by Luke Duffy
Carefully, taking slow and deliberately placed steps, the soldiers turned into the next street. They hugged the wall as they moved, avoiding detection from the swarm in the road behind them as they clung to the dark shadows of the buildings that flanked the road. Every fibre in their bodies urged them to run, but their experience and discipline prevented them from doing so. The infected were attracted to sound and movement, and two fast moving objects, possibly making noise as they sprinted along the street, would surely draw the attention of all the dead eyes in the vicinity. They were in the heart of enemy territory, and they needed their nerves to be as tough as steel. Al always compared it to placing their feet inside a bear trap, hovering just above the pressure pad, and taunting it with their boldness.
Further along, out of sight from the throng of frozen corpses, Al suddenly stopped and stared at the open door of a building on the left side of the street. He stooped, squinting into the gloomy doorway and wrecked windows while attempting to penetrate the thick blanket of blackness that glared back at him from inside.
“Wait,” he whispered, gesturing to Tommy and nodding towards the entrance. “We should take a quick look.”
Above the doorway a faded and weather beaten sign stubbornly clung to its brackets. Tommy took a step closer, struggling to identify the building.
“Are you fucking serious?” he hissed back at Al when he was finally able to recognise the lettering. He was standing in the middle of the street and suddenly feeling exposed. “We can’t be fucking about right now, dickhead. We’ve got more important things to do.”
Al turned to him, his face clearly showing that he had no intention of continuing with their mission at that moment. He shook his head and began to step away towards the gaping doorway.
“It’ll only take a minute,” he reasoned, beckoning for his friend to follow him. “We’ll be done before you know it.”
Without another word he turned and headed towards the dark, cavernous entrance leading into the store.
“For fuck sake,” Tommy grumbled, falling into line behind his partner, knowing that he could not convince his friend to continue until he was satisfied and ready to do so on his own accord. “You’ll get us both killed one of these days.”
“Shut up, you big girl’s bra.”
He followed Al towards the building and paused at the gaping doorway, glancing to his left and right, peering along the street in both directions. Suddenly, he could feel the cold, damp air penetrating through his clothing, seeping through his flesh and into his bones, and causing him to shiver. The area was still and silent, but he felt unnerved. He knew all too well that it would not take much to change the current state, and he cursed his friend under his breath for forcing him into a situation that could very easily go wrong. Another shudder coursed through his body, causing his spine to twitch and his skin to form goose-bumps.
“Fuck sake,” he grumbled again, and stepped through the door.
Once inside, they treaded carefully through the almost pitch-black interior of the shop. They stood side by side staring into the darkness and focussing all their senses as they watched and listened for any sign of movement from within. They stepped forward, the soles of their heavy boots lightly crushing the carpet of broken glass that was scattered across the pale linoleum floor. The sound of the small glass cubes shifting and breaking under their weight was deafening in the otherwise silent air and seemed to echo loudly through the small supermarket they had entered in to.
Slowly, their eyes adjusted to the gloom and more of the shop’s interior came into view. Two rows of shelving ran along the centre of the spacious room, dividing the store into three separate aisles. Close to the door where the two men lingered, they could see a number of bulky objects lying on the ground. Overturned shopping baskets, boxes, and crates cluttered the aisles, creating obstacles that would cause a racket if disturbed.
Then there were the dead bodies. Dozens of them. All mixed together and rotted away to nothing but bone and tattered clothing, illuminated in the faint moonlight that filtered in through the shop front. The building reeked with the familiar must of old decay and rotting wood from the years of exposure to the elements, but there seemed to be no indication that the living dead were inside.
Deeper into the store along the aisles the ambient light failed to penetrate far enough for them to be able to see, so they reached for their lights. The tiny narrow beams, giving off just enough light to see the immediate area around where they were aimed, swept from left to right as the soldiers checked for any unseen dangers. They carefully walked along the aisles, checking the shelves for anything of use, and headed towards the checkout counter at the far end. They periodically glanced back over their shoulders to confirm that the street beyond the entrance remained empty.
“Bingo,” Al finally grunted into the murky shadows. “It’s an Aladdin’s cave in here. They’ve got the lot.”
Tommy stepped out from the aisle, and ignoring his comrade, continued on towards the door that led into the rear of the building. Shining his torch into the small storeroom, and satisfied that it held no surprises for them, he turned his attention to the area where his friend stood rooted to the spot and lustfully gazing upon the delights he had discovered. The shaft of light from Al’s torch passed over the shelves by the side of the counter, revealing rows of bottles in all manner of colours and shapes.
“We’re risking getting our arses bitten off so that you can swipe some booze? You’re a prick at times, do you know that?”
Al remained facing the wall and continued to ogle the stacks of bottles and cans that stretched from the floor to the ceiling.
“Hey, this stuff is as rare as rocking horse shit,” he spoke softly, unable to tear his eyes away from the dusty labels. “You’ve tasted that crap that they make back at base? It’s like piss mixed with aviation fuel. With a few decent bottles of scotch and vodka, we’ll be the most popular blokes in town.”
“Bollocks to popularity.”
Al turned and grinned at him.
“Okay. Well maybe that pretty Lucy will give you a bit of action with a few glasses of ‘loud mouth soup’ in her?”
“Prick.”
Tommy shook his head and glanced around nervously. At that moment he had no interest in alcohol or Lucy, regardless of how pretty she was, and for how many years he had been working hard to win her over.
“Just grab a couple of bottles so we can get the fuck out of here.”
As his friend pondered on his choice, Tommy watched the area, nervously glancing into the corners and attempting to penetrate the black shadows. A sudden crack made him freeze in his tracks, his guts instantly twisting into knots, and an icy shiver racing along his spine and up over his scalp. He turned and saw his friend standing motionless with bulging eyes and holding the bottle of expensive whisky that he had just removed from one of the higher shelves. Their gazes turned upward towards the empty space where the bottle had been sitting.
Suddenly the shelf gave way, and like a tidal wave, the entire stack came crashing forward, raining down upon them and smashing against the hard floor. More bottles slipped from their perches, tumbling through the air and adding to the uproar of breaking glass as they fragmented into a thousand pieces and were scattered across the cold linoleum.
Both men stood stock still, their heads sinking into their shoulders as the air around them erupted. With each crash and ear splitting shatter they flinched, wincing with dread at the racket they had caused and wishing it to cease, but the ringing of the exploding bottles seemed to last an eternity.
Finally, with the stacks of shelves empty, and the shop floor awash with hundreds of litres of alcohol, the din began to subside. The two men, their minds echoing with the clatter of broken glass, turned to look at one another with their eyes protruding from their sockets and every muscle and fibre in their bodies taut and ready to snap with the strain.
“You dick.”
“How was I supposed to know that was goi
ng to happen?” Al protested, shrugging his shoulders.
“It was fucking obvious that was…”
A thud from the direction of the entrance made them turn. They had to step into the centre aisle to be able to see the doorway, and immediately their blood froze inside their veins. They saw what had made the noise, and they saw the others too. The vision was no surprise to either of them, but it still horrified the men as they stared back towards the entrance and the street beyond.
In the frame of the doorway, silhouetted against the pale light that filtered in from outside, a thin, tall figure stood. Its arms seemed longer than they were supposed to be, and its bony shoulders jutted out at sharp angles from the sides of its neck. The head, its features obscured by shadow, was cocked to the side while the thin wisps of hair that continued to stubbornly cling on to the scalp drifted upwards and outwards on the gentle breeze that blew in from the street behind.
It stood there, motionless, as though studying the darkness and searching for the source of the noise that had shattered the night. Behind the figure, a sea of dark and almost featureless faces stood pressed up against the broken windows and pushed against the frames as they peered into the store with curiosity. Their black eye sockets stared in through the jagged panes of glass, seeking out the living that they instinctively knew were somewhere nearby.
“Back,” Al whispered. “Move back.”
Quietly, Al and Tommy began to back up, their eyes remaining locked on the mass of bodies that blocked their exit. Their weapons were raised and their breathing had ceased as the calm before the storm gripped them with anticipation and terror.
A crunching scrape rang out through the eerie interior as a small shard of glass that was wedged into the sole of one of their boots was dragged along the floor. Both men cursed in silence, grimacing at the realisation that they no longer had any chance of remaining unnoticed and sneaking away from the inevitable attack.
The small sound that echoed like a church bell in the confines of the shop was like a signal to the swarm of reanimated corpses, forcing them into action. In harmony, the crowd erupted into a chorus of excited cries and rasping wails, raising their arms and launching themselves forward towards the interior of the store.
The figure at the door stumbled and let out a long searching moan as more bodies poured in from behind.
Al and Tommy raised their rifles.
2
It was cold up on the wall. The wind blew straight in across the expanse of open ground unobstructed, assaulting anyone who exposed themselves above the parapet. There were no buildings or trees to sap or channel the force of the wind, and the base took the full brunt of it. Whether it was the harsh freezing wind of winter, or the nauseating, stench filled breeze of summer, it was rare that the survivors found a happy medium. Autumn was gone and winter was rapidly taking hold, and no doubt another murderous cold would follow. They seemed to be growing harsher each year. As their supplies and resources steadily dwindled, the elements increased their efforts to root out the last of humanity from the planet. To those who pondered and thought on the matter, all the signs appeared to indicate that Mother Nature had truly had enough of mankind and truly wanted rid of them.
Tina wrinkled her nose. Even now she was unable to get used to the scent. The reek of corruption was thick in the air. The smell of the dead never left them and seemed to be drawn to the living. She shuddered against the cool air and arched her shoulders, covering her neck and lower face with the fur-lined collar of her jacket. She was standing on the raised platform above the northern gate, staring out towards the black ruins of the city. It was virtually impossible to see anything on the ground more than a few metres beyond the T-walls, but she could imagine what was out there. She had seen it all too often with her own eyes during daylight.
No-man’s-land was a patchwork quilt of death and carnage. Thousands of bodies were lying and steadily rotting away in the churned earth amongst the wreckage of battle and the endless jumbles of barbed wire that protruded from the mire like metallic weeds. Over the last twelve years, thousands upon thousands of the walking dead had converged on the area, swarming the walls and laying siege to the living people within. While work continued on the tunnel, the decaying cadavers battered their bodies against the concrete walls and steel gates, searching for a weakness and a way in.
Looking down from her elevated position, Tina could barely make out the tangles of black corpses below her. They were nothing but bones piled high and fused together from the fires that had been unleashed upon them five years ago. Even in the daylight, they appeared like a mass of thick, blackthorn bushes clambering at the foot of the walls. It had been a desperate move that had almost destroyed the base, but the survivors needed to somehow alleviate the pressure that the dead were creating on the T-walls.
Thousands of litres of precious fuel had been used, and the toxic smoke and raging flames had almost engulfed the fortress. However, the tactic was successful in forcing the legions of infected back, and to Tina’s astonishment, they never returned. Instead, the plague of festering corpses kept their distance, surrounding the compound and patiently watching as they continued to swell in numbers.
She could not see the masses, but she knew that they were there. Along with their odour, their sound drifted across the land like an invisible and evil filled mist. An electrified hum as hundreds of thousands of voices murmured together glided through the air. Even within the complex, their drone could be heard, almost felt. It never left them, and was a constant reminder to the living people that they were trapped, and that the dead would never give up.
Tina glanced to her left and right. She could not actually see the men and women who were manning the walls with their machine guns trained on the darkness that blanketed the world outside, but she could see the dark silhouettes of their gun towers jutting out above the base. From time to time, she was able to hear distant conversations being carried on the wind. Unintelligible words being muttered to one another as the sentries remained at their posts and did what they could to stave off the monotony and cold. Here and there, the faint red glow of a cigarette could be seen or the dim light of a lantern floating along the inner wall as the guard commanders moved from one position to the next, conducting their hourly checks on the guards of the night watch.
Tina sighed and blew out a long stream of misted air that clouded around her head. She was tired but restless. She had attempted to sleep, but the fact that Al and Tommy were out in the infested city alone consumed her every thought. She hated them for their insistence that she remain behind, but at the same time she understood their reasons.
Since taking command, her strength and character had been the main force holding the community within the walls together. They knew tactics and strategy better than she did, although she had learned a great deal over the years, but it was her leadership skills, her ability to rally people when their morale was failing, and her dogged determination and unflinching resolution that placed her at the top of the pyramid. She was the brains while Al and Tommy were the brawn. Yet she still felt as though she was not doing enough by standing around and waiting for them to return with the information she needed.
Unable to see or hear anything beyond the base, she turned and headed for the steps. Her feet clunked against the steel grates as she descended, sounding heavy and as though she was carrying a great burden. Her load was a mental and emotional one. For years, she had worked hard to appear strong and ruthless, doing what was necessary for the survival of the base’s occupants without allowing her emotions to get in the way. However, the long struggle was taking its toll on her. No one was there to witness the tears that she shed at night for the people she had lost along the way and the horror she had experienced. She felt detached, with nobody to share her feelings or comfort her. There was no one in her life that she could be intimate with and help to lighten her load. More than anything, and despite the community around her, she was lonely.
She reached the
bottom of the steps and headed towards the inner complex. Across to her left she could see Sebastian and his dogs in the area of the kennels. The two German Shepherds and one Border collie loved their master and he loved them. Sebastian, however, was an enigma. Very rarely did he speak to anyone unless it was with regard to his animals. He was an expert handler, and as the base’s primary warning system, his skill with the dogs was indispensable. She considered moving across to see how they were, but she knew that it would be pointless trying to strike up a conversation with Sebastian. He spoke in single syllables, and always gave the impression that he was uncomfortable around humans, wanting to get away from them and back to his dogs as quickly as possible.
With her feet squelching in the gloopy mud, she continued towards the decrepit and broken down Lynx helicopter. She paused for a moment and eyed its bulky fuselage, its rotors sagging low towards the wet ground as its body slowly crumbled away. It had been instrumental in their survival during the early days. They had used it to launch a counter attack against a large force of raiders who were pressing in from all sides, driving them back and breaking their will to fight. After that, the helicopter had helped with scavenging and rescue missions before being run into the ground and beyond repair during the survey phase of the tunnel construction.
For months, Michael, the civil engineer who designed and oversaw the building of the tunnel, went up on a daily basis, checking and double checking on the progress. By the time that the underground passage was completed, there was nothing left in the old aircraft. The mechanics toiled for months to fix it, but it was no use. The Lynx never flew again.
Placing her hand on the nose of the helicopter and feeling its cold and damp aluminium sheeting against her palm, Tina patted it lightly, thanking the machine and wishing it a happy and peaceful retirement. She smiled at the ludicrousness of her thoughts and then turned away, continuing towards the doors that led into the central complex.
