The Dead Walk The Earth (Book 4)

by Luke Duffy

  “Come on, let’s see if we can sneak out of here. I say we scrub the bus station phase and head straight for home.”

  “Agreed. Sack it, and leg it for the tunnel,” Tommy whispered enthusiastically. “I’ve had a bellyful of this circus for one day.”

  Al turned to move away, but then stopped abruptly. Something had caught his eye in the streets below. He stepped back up to the wall and looked out to the rows of buildings on their left that overlooked the open area in front of the multi-storey car park. He paused and squinted, trying to identify what it was that had registered in the back of his mind. Finally he saw it. There, at the broken window of what had once been a row of small, first floor flats with shops and businesses beneath, he saw a figure looking back at him. Al reached into his vest and grabbed a small set of binoculars. The man was doing the same thing and or a few seconds, they stood and stared at one another, adjusting their focus dials.

  “There’s someone down there,” Al hissed, nudging Tommy with his elbow. “A bloke standing in one of the windows above that shop. He’s alive.”

  Tommy leaned out over the ledge of the wall and looked for himself. Al was right, there was definitely a living man down there. It had been a long time since anyone had been seen alive within the city, but that did not mean that there was no one surviving there. Unsure of what else to do, Tommy raised his hand and waved. The man hesitated, lowered his binoculars, looked towards the crowd beneath him, and then returned the gesture.

  “You think he’s the one playing the music?”

  “Must be. I can’t see it being anyone else.”

  “What should we do? There’s still a lot of them down there.”

  “We don’t have any choice, mate. We need to get moving.”

  They headed for the door, avoiding the urge to run while weaving their way through the infected that seemed to aimlessly wander around through the parking level. There appeared to be more of them around than Al had initially estimated, and the door suddenly seemed further away. One behind the other, with Al in front and his pistol raised in both hands, they carefully stepped over the weeds and around the multitude of inert bodies that littered the floor. A few bony hands reached out towards them as they passed some of the vehicles, but they were easy to negotiate, their clumsy movements and rasping grunts giving the men plenty of warning. At the door they stopped and looked back. It seemed that some of the dead still had enough hearing and sight to identify the living at close range. Many of the corpses had turned in their direction and were following slowly.

  Tommy pulled the door open and peered into the stairwell. The smell made him recoil for a second before stepping through, holding his breath, and squinting into the darkness. The floor was sodden with a foul smelling, viscous liquid that churned his stomach. The dark steps were cluttered with bits of clothing and body parts that had fallen from their owners during the mass pushing and shoving as the infected had swarmed through the building. Just a short while ago, there had been thousands of them trampling their way up towards the rooftop. Now all that remained were discarded limbs along with a few bodies that had been too fragile and were crushed in the melee.

  He turned and signalled for Al to follow him into the darkened stairwell. They waited and listened for a moment, their feet squelching in the fetid fluids of the dead. Above them they could hear footsteps, and below them was the din of the swarm at street level. In the dark, with only their hearing to lead them and the sounds being amplified through the shaft containing the staircase, it was more nerve wracking than being faced with thousands of the dead in broad day light. They had faced similar situations before, but it never got any easier to cope with. Their nerves were stretched close to breaking point, and it was down to their experience and determination for them to remain focussed and calm.

  “What do you think? Wait for a while, or do we go for it now?” Tommy asked, listening to the haunting wails of the infected drifting up through the building.

  There was a thud to their right. They turned to see the faces of several corpses pressed up against the narrow, reinforced pane of glass that was set into the door leading onto the level that they had just come from. Within seconds the window was nothing but a collage of grey faces and grinning skulls, vacant eye sockets, and yellowed, broken teeth. They chomped at the glass and scraped their clawed hands against the thick wood.

  “I think you’ve got your answer, mate.”

  “If this goes wrong, we’ll be well and truly in the shit,” Tommy whispered, staring up between the bannisters leading to the upper floors. “Sounds like there’s still a lot of them up there. We’ll be the filling in a serious shit sandwich.”

  “We can go and sit in the van again if you want?”

  “Fuck that.”

  Moving down through each flight of stairs, the pair of them covered one another as they pushed through the darkness in bounds. The sounds of the dead above them continued, but that was no real concern to them as they descended. The roar of the mass of bodies below was what forced them to hesitate as they finally reached the top of the second level. They stopped by the door leading into the parking bays. The glass was murky, but they could make out the faint shapes of figures moving around on the other side. Beneath them the sound of scraping feet, the incessant clangs as bodies bumped into vehicles, and the mind curdling howl of the thousands of walking dead clawed its way up towards the living men. They glanced at one another, unsure of what lay around the next turning in the staircase.

  “They’re coming down,” Al said as he looked up towards the upper floors.

  He could see faint shadows flitting from one wall to the next as the bodies broke the low ambient light that filtered in from between the levels. Their footsteps were getting louder.

  “I know.”

  They continued down through another level, taking the steps slowly, and hugging the wall as they pointed their pistols out into the darkness ahead of them. By the time they were on the first floor, they could almost feel the dead within close proximity. The mass of moving bodies seemed to cause the foundations to vibrate, and their voices endlessly lamenting together clawed along the walls like a creeping fungus.

  They moved slowly, studying every corner and every shadow, their eyes darting wildly as they perceived threat from every quarter. At the top of the first flight of stairs they stopped again, steeling themselves for what lay ahead. It would have been easy for them both to turn back and find a new hiding place, but the thought of ending up like Harry and the others continued to spur them on.

  Tommy covered the rear as Al led the way down the steps and towards the door leading out on to the ground level. He kept an ear out behind them, staying fully aware of the progress of the dead that were descending above them. He felt the cool air from below brush against his bare head, and he suddenly felt vulnerable, regretting his tantrum on the roof when he slung his helmet away. He knew that they were about to come into close proximity with the infected, and the thought of having an ear ripped off refused to be dislodged from his mind. Without realising that he was doing it, he sunk his head deep into his shoulders.

  Al reached for the handle and peered out through the narrow gap he created between the door and its frame. He blinked against the sudden change in light, and grimaced at the overpowering stench of rotting corpses, but kept his attention on what was beyond. He was immediately tempted to close the door again and head back up the stairs. There were thousands of them still lurching through the ground floor parking bays. Not all of them had made it out on to the streets, and with the din of the crowd, they could no longer hear the music. He could see the wrecked barricade roughly thirty metres away, but with the amount of dead in the area he doubted that they would make it that far. Using the ramp as their escape route was going to be extremely difficult. He looked around, searching for an alternative, but everywhere he looked he could see nothing but the gaunt and horrific faces of the dead.

  He turned to Tommy to warn him.

  Before
he could speak the light coming through the gap was suddenly distorted as a huge figure slammed into the door, instantly pushing its way through the opening. It moved fast, despite the years of decomposition that had ravaged its body and catching Al completely by surprise and off balance.

  Al turned as the snapping teeth of the thing lunged towards his face. He threw up his right forearm and thrust it up against the gaping mouth, feeling the pressure against his arm as the dead man bit down against his thick leather vambrace that protected him from the wrist to the elbow. Raising his other hand, he wedged his palm beneath his attacker’s chin, his fingers breaking the paper-thin flesh around its windpipe, and reaching in as far as its spinal column. The jaw flexed, and the stench of its rotting insides oozed from its mouth and over Al’s armour as it snarled and gurgled above him. Al fell back with a gasp as the body lunged again and dropped on top of him, the pair of them landing on the cold, damp floor. Despite his advantage in strength and speed, Al was unable to push the corpse off him. It was too heavy, and his arm carrying his pistol remained trapped between its teeth.

  Tommy jumped to his aid, throwing a kick that caught the creature on the side of its head. It was launched from Al and into the doorframe, its skull thumping loudly against the wood with a dull crack. It slid to the floor, and Tommy reached down to pull his friend free. Al scurried back and jumped to his feet, quickly checking that the corpse’s teeth had not managed to puncture the thick leather that protected his arm.

  The stairwell above them echoed with the sounds of feet pounding down along the hard steps. The moans of the dead were growing louder. Out on the ground level, a large number of the horde had detected the two living men in the stairwell during the struggle and began to converge on the door. The corpse of the large man was still lying over the threshold, wedging the door open and giving the dead an unobstructed view of Al and Tommy. It was too late to head back. They were hemmed in and needed to think fast.

  “Fuck it,” Al cried, holstering his pistol and unslinging his rifle from over his shoulder. “Put your head down and go for it.”

  He ripped the door fully open, presenting himself to the mass of bodies outside. All of them turned towards him, their eyes widening and reflecting their lust as they fell upon the living flesh that was headed towards them. Al raised his rifle and began to fire, the sharp pop of the suppressor sounding like a hydraulic piston as he began picking off the nearest of the infected, hoping to give themselves enough space for a running start. As another corpse hit the floor, its head splayed open from the high-velocity bullet, the weapon ceased firing.

  “Magazine,” he cried, ripping the empty from the housing and jumping through the doorway. He reached for more ammunition from his vest, changing out his magazines on the move. “Go, Tommy. Go, go, fucking go.”

  Al ran forward, aiming for the bright light that spilled in through the large gaps between the support pillars around the outer walls of the building. Dipping his head and using his helmet to smash his way through the first of the infected that reached out for him, he became a human battering ram. The weakened and ill coordinated dead were thrown back by the impacts as he crashed against them, sending them reeling into one another, and creating a space for Al and Tommy to increase their momentum.

  “Go for it, Tommy,” Al was screaming, as he charged forward. “Don’t fucking stop. Just keep going. Flatten the bastards.”

  Tommy was right behind him, growling, punching, and ploughing his way through, and hoping that they could clear a path before too many of them converged. If they slowed at all, the crowd would instantly become too tightly packed for them to force a way through.

  A figure jumped in front of him and clamped its arms around his neck, its long hair covering most of its face as its clawed hands pulled at the armour that covered his shoulders and attempted to drag him into her widening mouth. Through pure instinct, Tommy arched his head back and then launched it forward again, his neck acting as a catapult for the weight of his skull. His forehead smashed into the woman’s face, and he felt the bone of her nose and eye sockets collapse beneath the power of his head-butt. His head came away wet as black sludge burst from a large, jagged hole that suddenly appeared between her eyes. The dead woman’s fingers released their grip on him, and Tommy stomped over her body as she dropped to the floor.

  Another grasped his arm, pulling him off balance, and causing him to spin to the side. Its teeth sank into the armour that covered his shoulder, and its jaw bone shattered audibly as it bit down hard. Tommy ripped himself away, correcting his stride, punching another hard in the face, and turning to follow on behind Al, who had now cut a great swathe of destruction through the mass of bodies as he headed for the exit ramp.

  By now thousands of the dead had been attracted by the commotion. More and more of them were turning back, forgetting the sound of the swarm and the music outside, excited by the new events happening within the parking complex. They were rushing back in through the entrance, clawing at one another as they fought for position. They screamed and howled loud enough to drown out the rage and fear filled cries of the men as they continued to fight their way through the thickening mass.

  Al was running, punching, and kicking at anything that stood in his path. Dozens of the mutilated figures fell or were thrown back under the weight of his assault. However, his progress was beginning to slow. There were too many of them ahead of him. In desperation, as hands clutched at him from all sides, he turned and searched for an alternative.

  “Move left,” he yelled, grabbing the lunging cadaver of a man by the throat and flinging it back into the crowd. “We’re going over the wall.”

  A few metres to the side of the wrecked barricade the area was less densely packed. Al saw it as their only hope and changed his angle of attack. Again, he began to smash his way through, sending the bodies of the infected flying through the air as his powerful shoulders and legs worked like pistons. A hand reached for him, its fingers becoming trapped between the overlapping armour plates and the straps of the pack that covered his back and shoulders. The corpse, squealing loudly as it sensed triumph, was dragged along with its feet scuffing along the ground as it was swept away by Al’s momentum. Al felt its weight, but it was not enough to slow him. He could not stop to work it loose, and instead hauled it along in his wake. He needed to keep going.

  Tommy followed. The dead were so close and so numerous, he could not afford the time to change out his empty magazine. Instead, he resorted to using his rifle like a club, battering at the heads of the frenzied and howling mass. He could hear Al ahead of him growling and snarling as he thumped and kicked to clear them a path. Suddenly, they emerged into an area of relative calm. To their right was the remains of the barricades, twisted and pushed to the side. Directly ahead of them was a space with only a few lumbering and confused looking bodies that turned and looked back at the advancing men.

  Al reached out, grabbing the nearest and sending it hurtling into another like a bowling ball tearing along its lane and smashing into the pins. The two infected corpses collided and spun off in different directions as Al jumped for the wall, still dragging the body of a woman behind him, its hand remaining trapped in his equipment. He had no idea how things looked on the other side of the wall, but it could be no worse than how things already were. Without slowing, he placed his hands onto the ledge and vaulted his body over, swinging his huge legs out to the side of him with the grace of a gymnast.

  He dropped through the air, the trapped corpse tumbling with him, and hit the ground three metres below. His feet made contact first, but he was too heavy and moving too fast to keep his balance. His body fell forward and his shoulder slammed into the tarmac, sending a flash of pain through his torso as a loud crack rang out behind him. For a split-second he feared the worst, thinking that he had broken his back. However, he quickly realised that it was the infected woman that he had been dragging with him that had created the noise. It had broken almost into two pieces, its decompose
d flesh splitting along its abdomen and spilling out its dried and withered intestines. It lay there, flopping about like a fish out of water, its skeletal fingers grasping at the ground, and its near fleshless skull snarling back at Al.

  Tommy landed beside him with a sickening thud, his knees collapsing, and his back taking most of the impact as he fell backward.

  “Fuck.”

  He let out a loud huff, cursing through gritted teeth as the shock of the impact rippled through his body. Rolling to the side and grimacing from the pain, he slammed in a fresh magazine and raised his rifle, firing at a number of figures that were moving towards them from the street. The side of the ramp was relatively free of the infected, but that would soon change if they stayed there for much longer. He reached over and helped Al to his feet, and began dragging their pain-racked bodies into the open. They hobbled away from the building, firing their weapons at the nearest of the dead that were steadily building in number around them as they turned and staggered towards the two fleeing men.

  “There,” Al growled, pointing at the buildings to their left. They were only forty metres away, but the distance could easily have been forty kilometres. There were hundreds of lurching figures in their path. “Head for the yellow door.”

  Al glanced up at the window of the flat above. The man was still standing there and was watching them as they attempted to flee from the car park complex. Again, they began to battle their way through the thickening throng, heading for the building where the man stood gawking back at them in shocked disbelief.

  The hard fight was taking its toll on Al and Tommy. They were slowing; their punches and kicks becoming weaker, and their fire less accurate. They were no longer batting the infected away with one powerful strike, or taking them down with one shot. It was now taking a number of hits before their path was clear, and all the while, more of them were closing in and threatening to cut off their escape.