The Dead Walk The Earth (Book 4)

by Luke Duffy

Their arms and legs screamed at them with the build-up of lactic acid, and their lungs burned. They were just twenty metres away now, a carpet of sprawled bodies covering the ground behind them as they continued to drive forward. The mass ahead of them was thinning, unable to keep up with the advance of the living humans. Al, sensing safety only a short distance away, gritted his teeth and drew on the last of his reserves. Bodies toppled and skulls cracked beneath his powerful blows as he continued towards the buildings, growling aggressively and refusing to slacken in his thrust.

  The man above them began waving his arms frantically in an attempt to tell them something, but neither Al nor Tommy were paying much attention at that moment in time. They were still having to fight their way through a huge crowd, pushing and thrashing as they struggled for every metre of ground.

  They fired their rifles, the low snap of their shots echoing through the streets as the frenzied cries of the dead swallowed them up.

  Finally, they emerged from the fringes of the swarm, lunged for the building, and hurled themselves towards the door.

  “No. Go somewhere else,” a panicked voice hollered from above them. “Not here. Fuck off. Not in here.”

  Neither of them paid any attention to the angered voice. They wanted to get off the street and allow themselves at least a few seconds of breathing space. Getting a barrier between them and the thousands of infected dead was their primary focus, and following instructions or demands from a total stranger was not particularly concerning to them at that moment.

  They would not last much longer in the open, that much was certain. It appeared that every one of the infected were now moving towards them, forgetting the distraction of the music that could no longer be heard. The swarm was too big, and they were both beginning to slow and weaken from exhaustion.

  Drawing on the last of his strength and determination, Al charged for the doorway and threw out his boot, catching the door beneath the lock and sending it crashing open with a loud crunch followed by a shuddering bang as it thumped into the interior wall. They chased after it, falling into a short, narrow hallway containing two doors. The door on the right opened out into a wide room filled with dust covered chairs and tables. The door directly ahead of them at the end of the hallway remained shut.

  Tommy turned and slammed the main entrance shut, quickly sliding a rusted bolt into place at the top as the first of the dead began to batter its hands against the barrier from the opposite side. He knew it would not hold for long, but it would allow them enough time to make a quick assessment, and hopefully, find another way out of the building.

  “Where to?” he yelled, helping his friend to his feet.

  Al climbed from the dust covered floor, steadying himself against the wall beside him. He was gasping for air and coughing up phlegm that trickled down over his stubble covered chin. He wiped the mucus from his face and changed out his magazines. The door behind them was already beginning to creak loudly as the weight of the crowd pushed against it. He looked around, searching for an exit.

  The room to their right was cast in shadow. The rear windows had been heavily boarded, allowing very little light to penetrate into the short corridor. Tommy stepped forward, gingerly poking his head around the corner and instantly seeing that another barricade had been erected to cover the windows at the front of the building that was facing out on to the street. It was not the usual style of furniture hastily piled up against the windows. This structure had been carefully thought out and built to withstand a sustained assault. Thick iron support beams had been fitted into the walls, criss-crossing the room, and reinforced with wooden boards and metal sheeting. He turned and looked back towards the door. It made no sense to him. He could not understand why someone had gone to so much effort to secure the windows, but leave the main door in its flimsy state.

  “You planning on keeping this?” Tommy asked.

  Al turned around and saw him standing there holding a skeletal arm that he had pulled from the overlapping armour that covered Al’s back.

  “Might make a nice souvenir to someone,” Al shrugged with a forced grin while he continued to sputter. “I tell you what though… if we get out of this, I’m going to work a little harder on my fitness, mate. I’m blowing out of my arse here.”

  “You wankers. You pair of complete, fucking wankers,” an infuriated voice suddenly called out to them from the doorway at the end of the hallway.

  Behind them, the man who had been watching and then screaming at them stood glowering at the foot of a set of stairs leading up to the flats above. The part of his face that was visible beneath his long, thick beard was glowing crimson. His eyes, wild and fearsome, burned right through them with rage. Al and Tommy tensed, raising their weapons a little higher as the door behind them continued to rattle and steadily disintegrate.

  The man stepped forward towards them, becoming more visible as he moved out from the shadowy doorway. He was dressed in layers of thick homemade leather and denim armour covering his arms and shoulders and was similar to what Al and Tommy were wearing. He stomped passed them and reached for a lever that was jutting out from the wall above their heads. With a heave, he turned it downwards and quickly jumped back, his shoulder colliding with Tommy as an ear-splitting grinding noise from above them filled the hallway. With a heavy crash, an iron gate dropped from a recess that had been cut into the ceiling. It slammed into place with a shuddering rattle, and completely blocked off the main door from the corridor. On the other side of the heavy iron bars, the entrance began to give.

  Al and Tommy looked at one another in astonishment, and then turned to the bars that appeared like the gate of a jail cell. The man stormed passed them, mumbling something to himself, and heading for the door where he had appeared from. He stopped and turned back towards them, the anger in his eyes still burning brightly.

  “Are you two clowns coming or what?” he snarled.

  Neither of them needed to be asked a second time. They turned and followed after him, passing through the door that led into the stairway for the flats above. As they entered, the man slammed the heavy door shut behind them, lowering a number of thick bars into place from the wall beside the door, and completely securing the entrance into the stairwell. He glanced at the two soldiers and shook his head as he pushed by them.

  “Don’t look too impressed. It won’t stop them from getting in; just delay them.”

  “Looks pretty hard-core to me,” Al said, looking back at the thick steel rods that appeared like the interior locking mechanism of a bank vault.

  “That’s because you’re a wanker.”

  There was once a time when Al would have jumped on the man for speaking to him in that way. He would have punched his lights out without hesitation, but now he just looked back at Tommy and shrugged.

  Rather than walking up the stairs, the angry man reached down and pulled a rope towards himself. The bottom six steps opened up like a trapdoor, revealing a dark chasm beneath the stairway. Without another word, he stepped in and disappeared into the gloom. Al and Tommy quickly followed.

  “Close the stairs behind you. Make sure you hear the click,” the man’s voice called up to them from the darkness below.

  They descended the steps and entered into a dimly lit subterranean lair. The room was about five by seven metres in size, but they could not be certain due to the low light. The walls were bare, showing damp and discoloured brickwork coated with mildew in some places and adorned with framed pictures and graffiti in others. The ground beneath their feet seemed to be awash with foul smelling water that trickled out from the walls and into a grid in the centre of the slightly sloping floor.

  The furniture had seen far better days, too. Armchairs, stools, and even a couch were pushed into various corners, and were surrounded with piles of books and magazines. In front of the sofa, a rickety looking coffee table held a Chess board with the pieces arranged in a way that made it appear as though a game was in progress. There were no windows, and the only light
came from a number of candles that were scattered about the room. Tommy nudged Al and nodded to the wall that was directly opposite from where they were standing.

  ‘Darwin was right; the world is full of wankers!’ had been spray painted in huge white letters that covered a large portion of the wall. Both of them raised an eyebrow to one another but said nothing.

  Above them, it sounded as though the whole building was being torn apart. It was hard to tell where the dead were, but from the sound of things, they were through the main door and probably the windows, too. The barricades were strong, but nothing could hold back the dead indefinitely. Their host had disappeared into the shadows at the far end of the room. They could hear him rummaging around through cupboards and drawers, grumbling to himself and still sounding extremely agitated. They kept their weapons ready, unsure if the man was about to come charging towards them from the darkness, brandishing an axe, or maybe even a gun, because so far he had shown no other emotion apart from aggression. It seemed that Al and Tommy had severely upset him by choosing his hiding place as their refuge.

  “You’ve caused more excitement in this town during the last few hours than the gay pride festival did the year before everything went to shit. And now you’ve fucked everything up for me, too. Wankers.”

  Al and Tommy turned to see the man emerge from the gloom, a pack slung over his shoulder and holding a long, shining machete. They eyed the blade and thumbed their safety catches. Beside the man was a dog. It looked to be a cross between a collie and a German shepherd. Its long snout sniffed in their direction, and its lips curled back a little, baring its teeth in a silent growl.

  “Okay, Jeff. It’s okay,” the man whispered soothingly while patting the dog on its head. The animal turned to him and licked his fingers, cringing and letting out a high-pitched whimper as a loud crash resounded from above them.

  “Did you just call that dog ‘Jeff’?” Tommy asked with surprise and bewilderment.

  The man looked back at him, narrowing his eyes suspiciously, and suddenly appearing defensive towards his companion.

  “Yeah, ‘Jeff’. Is there a problem with that?”

  “Not at all, mate.”

  “What else am I going to call her?”

  “Her?”

  “Yeah, her.”

  Tommy turned to Al.

  “Come on, mate,” he said with pleading eyes. “We need to get out of here. This guy’s completely lost the plot.”

  “I’ve lost the plot?” the man snapped, raising his long blade and pointing it towards the ceiling. “Listen to that. You’ve just stirred up the entire city. What are you, a pair of amateurs out for an adventure? Have you both been in a coma for the last twelve years and only just woken up? Do you know what’s going on out there?” He shook his head and turned away, continuing to search through a chest of drawers. “Utter fucking wankers.”

  “Look, mate,” Al began, trying to be diplomatic, but considering shooting the man before he attacked them. “We’re sorry for ruining your hideout. We had nowhere else to go, and we’d be fucked if you hadn’t helped us. So, thanks.”

  “Thanks? I didn’t want you in here. You could’ve been eaten by those things for all I care. All I’m bothered about is my own skin and Jeff.”

  “So why were you playing music if you didn’t want to help and bring us in here?” Al asked, turning to Tommy in confusion.

  “Music?” the man scoffed. He stopped what he was doing and turned to face them, his brow furrowed. “I wasn’t playing any music. I was just watching you two fuckwits. The telly isn’t working these days and there isn’t much in the way of entertainment, you see. You two dick-heads, acting like a couple of clueless school kids was the most entertaining thing I’ve seen in a while. I just didn’t expect to end up with you in here with me.”

  “You didn’t hear the music that was playing out there?” Tommy asked.

  “I think you must’ve been imagining things, mate. Everyone out there is dead. Why would there be music?”

  He stepped to the side and dropped himself down onto an armchair that was threadbare and covered in dust. A faint cloud rose up around him as he shifted in his seat, letting out a loud sigh and placing his machete down on a table beside him.

  “Here,” the man grunted, reaching into his pack and producing a bottle of water. He slung it across to Al. “You look like you need it.”

  Tommy watched as Al glugged at the fluid, his tongue running over his cracked lips in anticipation.

  “Cheers,” Al gasped, wiping his chin and passing the bottle over to Tommy. “It’s much appreciated.”

  “Yeah, thanks,” Tommy added.

  The man grunted.

  “How long have you been here?” Al asked, looking around at the basement hideout.

  “I’ve been here since the very beginning. For years I’ve kept myself to myself and hidden away from all that shite out there. You two show up, and it’s all knackered within minutes.” He snorted and then spat a wad of phlegm towards the grid in the centre of the room. “I saw this coming, you know. Even before the virus spread, I knew there was something brewing on the horizon.”

  Al and Tommy relaxed a little. They lowered their weapons and stepped across into the middle of the room. All sat down on a small stool, savouring the much needed respite to his back and aching legs. Tommy made himself comfortable on the edge of an ancient looking dining table in the far corner. Both of them watched the man in front of them as their ears took in the racket above them. The infected were battering their way through the building, tearing at the barricades and walls while searching for the living men.

  Tommy greedily drained the last of the water from the bottle.

  “What do you mean, ‘you saw it coming’?” Al asked.

  “People. They’re all wankers. They’re no different now than they were before they all died. Yes, they’re a little less intelligent, but they’re still the same mindless wankers that were infesting the cities from twelve years ago. Just because they can’t work their iPods or login to social media anymore doesn’t make them any less dumb. We brought this on ourselves, you know.”

  “You’re talking about nature?”

  The man shook his head and let out a chuckle.

  “If this is Mother Nature, then I reckon she’s suffering with the menopause. No, I’m talking about us. We’ve tinkered with too much shit, and this is a by-product of our stupidity and arrogance.”

  “Ah,” Al replied, understanding where the man was leading them.

  He had met a few people over the years who were adamant that the plague was mankind’s unintentional punishment to themselves for their overconfidence in their abilities and disrespect for the planet.

  “Why have you stayed here?”

  “Why not stay here? Yeah, it’s a little more dangerous than it used to be, but even before it all turned into this, I avoided most of humanity. Like I said, they’re still the same, just a little hungrier and less fussy these days. The world is still full of wankers, and they’re all out there. Still wankers, but more manageable. I actually prefer them that way. They’re not really all that different from how they were to begin with, just no longer deluded with their notions of greatness and their socially fuelled desire to become fucking celebrities.

  “I lived in the flat upstairs with her mother and father. They’re both dead now, of course,” he continued, nodding towards Jeff who was now sitting beside his knee. He raised his hand and rubbed his fingers over the fur on her brow. “Everyone was running out, but I decided to stay. I barricaded this place up, moved what I needed down here, and I’ve been happy ever since. Until you two clowns showed up, that is. You also wrecked my bottle shop, by the way.”

  “Your bottle shop?” Tommy asked, looking across at Al with a raised eyebrow. “You mean the store?”

  “Yeah. That’s where I used to go for my booze once a week. I used to go to the library, too. Got a bit too sporty in that district, though, for my liking, so I loaded up
and brought what I needed back to here. The weekly booze shop was part of my routine, and I liked the adventure. You two blew the fucking place up, didn’t you?”

  “Sorry about that, but we weren’t to know,” Al offered, but wondering why he needed to justify what they had done. “Those things were all over us, and we were trapped. It was the only thing we could do to escape.”

  “Yeah, well you should’ve been more considerate.”

  “What’s your name?”

  “Frank.”

  “I’m Al, and this is Tommy.” He cringed as a mighty thud threatened to cave the ceiling in on their heads. All three of them turned their attention upwards. “Jesus, listen to that.”

  “You should’ve stayed behind your walls, Al and Tommy.”

  “You know about the base?”

  “Of course I do,” Frank shrugged. “I know everything about this city and who’s in it. I even knew about the lesbian couple who boarded themselves up in one of the flats on Stanley Street. They weren’t the attractive porn movie sort, but I did enjoy watching them on occasion.”

  “Lesbians?” Tommy repeated.

  “Yeah. They’re dead now, I think. Or they buggered off. Not seen or heard from them in years. And I also know about your tunnel. The one you spent years building and now use to sneak in and out from.”

  “Why did you never come to the FOB? It’s a lot safer there.”

  “Maybe it’s safer, but I prefer it out here. I like how things are now.”

  “You like it?”

  “Yeah. Did it never occur to you how all this got so out of hand in the first place and so easily? Those things are dead, stupid, and slow. It should’ve been a pinch of piss for us to deal with them and stop the spread of the infection. But no, they got the better of us and took over the whole frigging planet. Do you know how?”

  He paused for a few seconds as he watched them both.

  “The simple answer is ‘scum’. The vast majority of the human race is, was, scum. When this thing hit, most people went nuts. The big cities, they were overrun in no time. Why? Because ‘scum’ went on the rampage, looting, rioting, raping, and murdering. Following their baser instincts and having a great time of it. That’s why I stayed here. For all I know, your base might be overflowing with scummy wankers.”