The Dead Walk The Earth (Book 4)

by Luke Duffy

  It groped him, its hands searching for a better hold as it snarled into Taff’s face. He could smell the rancid stench of the creature’s insides as its mouth opened wide and snapped shut on thin air just centimetres away from his neck. Taff suddenly screamed loudly as one of its clutching hands, grasping at anything it could, clenched around his groin, squeezing his penis and testicles tightly. Feeling the soft flesh between its fingers and sensing victory as Taff howled in pain and terror, the growling monster increased its grip and began to pull.

  Taff began to kick and punch, hoping to break the vice like hold that the infected body had upon him before his own flesh was torn. He was growling with rage while at the same time groaning with pain. Finally, he was able to force his forearm beneath the body’s chin and push himself up.

  “Cunt,” he roared.

  He felt the fingers around his groin slacken their grip for a moment, and that was all the chance Taff needed. He shifted his position so that his lower body was clear of the mauling hands, and pushed his elbow down onto the corpse’s throat with all of his weight. The flesh split, and the bones creaked as Taff pushed against it.

  “Cunt. You fucking cunt.”

  With his free hand, he began to beat at the face beneath him, landing blow after blow with enough strength and force to break the skull. The infected man went limp and released its grip on him. Taff pulled himself free and scurried back from the body, one hand checking his testicles while the other reached for his rifle. He jumped to his feet and turned, checking his immediate surroundings, and firing three rounds into a face that appeared from around the front of the vehicle.

  More gunfire blasted from all around him as Kyle and Stan attempted to provide Bull the time he needed to complete the task. The racket was attracting more of the infected to the area. They came from every direction, suddenly appearing as though they had been waiting in the shadows for such an event.

  “Done,” Bull’s voice cried out, quickly followed by a volley of rapid fire as he joined in with the defence.

  Taff jumped into his seat and gunned the engine, pushing the stick into first gear with his foot resting just below the bite of the clutch.

  “In, get in!” he yelled out to Stan and Bull through the open passenger door.

  Having lost the benefit of stealth, there was no point in trying to remain undetected now. He flicked on the headlights and saw that there were dozens of the infected in the road ahead of them headed towards the team with outstretched arms.

  “Move.”

  Taff released the clutch before Stan had even managed to slam the door shut. The wheels screeched, fighting for traction against the wet and vine covered tarmac, until the tyres gripped and the SUV suddenly and violently shot forward, smashing into three of the dead and sending them hurtling through the air. With screaming engines, the team made their getaway from the scene and the crowd of dead that now filled the road.

  “That’s us complete, Stan,” Kyle informed them through the radio.

  Stan took in a deep breath and changed his magazine, making a mental note of his remaining ammunition. There were still more of the infected along the road ahead of them, but they were fewer in number, and more spread out. He knew from experience that the next few kilometres of their journey would be the same, with the walking dead being attracted by the gunfire from over a vast distance.

  Taff swerved his way through, dodging the wandering infected as best he could while resisting the urge to press his foot down hard against the pedal. He kept his cool, but the pain in his groin would not let him forget how close he had been to losing something very dear to him.

  “Bastards,” he muttered, his glaring eyes fixed upon the road ahead of them.

  “You okay?” Stan asked, looking him up and down.

  “Yeah,” Taff replied, keeping his eyes on the road. “I’m okay.”

  A few kilometres further along, Taff was forced to brake hard when the road ahead of them abruptly disappeared. They had reached a junction that was shrouded in almost complete blackness, surrounded by overhanging trees and thick bushes. By now they were back to travelling without the aid of their lights and relying more upon the NVGs. However, very little detail was ever visible through the night vision equipment, and depth perception was even more difficult to judge.

  Taff brought them to a halt and leaned forward over the wheel. Directly in front of them, partially visible through the thick foliage, was a road sign. It was impossible to read, covered with grime and crawling vines that threatened to completely smother it. Taff turned to Stan and shrugged.

  “Don’t look at me, mate. I’m the driver. I need to stay behind the wheel.”

  Stan hesitated. They were still too close to the area where they had needed to change the tyre. They had made so much noise during the incident that it was impossible for any cadaver that was still in possession of its senses not to hear them. He looked around them, turning in his seat, and attempting to see deeper into their surroundings.

  “Come on, numbnuts,” Stan eventually grunted over his shoulder as he lifted his weapon from the foot well and prepared to exit the vehicle. He clicked his radio. “Kyle, we have a junction ahead and need to push forward on foot. Watch our six.”

  “Roger that.”

  Bull and Stan stepped out onto the road. The cold air against their exposed skin slapped them into instant alertness. They waited for a moment while listening to the oppressive night. The second vehicle with Mark and Kyle had come to a halt a few metres further back. Even from such a short distance, it was hard to make them out in the darkness. Bull heard the faint creak of the door opening and a pair of boots stepping onto the rough tarmac of the road. It was Kyle taking up a covering position for them as they prepared to approach the junction.

  “Got you visual, Stan,” the veteran’s voice whispered through the radio. “Our six o’clock is clear.”

  But for how long? Stan wondered. They had almost been overwhelmed fifteen minutes earlier in an area that had seemed remote and free of the infected. For all they knew, they could be surrounded by thousands more of them without knowing it. The infected, possibly a herd that was rampaging its way to nowhere, had fallen on the area within seconds of them going static and appearing from out of thin air. It could easily happen again now.

  Apart from the low murmur of the engines, there was absolutely no other sounds. Not even the usual hoots of owls or the rustle of animals scurrying through the underbrush. They listened for the dead; the unmistakable dragging of feet and grunts that always accompanied the infected. There was nothing but an unnatural silence blanketing the area, and it was assumed to be a bad sign.

  Stan began to edge forward, watching the dark and shifting foliage on either side of the intersection while Bull crept along behind him. Once in the centre of the junction, they paused and checked to their left and right, staring into the dark roads leading off. In both directions there was nothing but blackness as the lanes were swallowed up within the tunnels of high-reaching trees and scrub. Stan took a tentative step closer to the road sign.

  Close by and just off to their left there was a snap sounding like a branch being placed under too much strain. There was a rustle followed by a rasping grunt. Through the night vision goggles and just a few metres away amongst the bushes, Stan detected movement.

  Bull had also seen and heard the disturbance and stepped across, moving in a half crouch as he neared the source of the sound. He was nervous, the memory of their previous encounter fresh in his mind. His adrenaline had only just begun to dissipate from his system, and now he began to feel it resurge. The bushes rustled again, clearly not from the wind, and more groans came from amongst the swaying leaves.

  “Shit,” he whispered, feeling his muscles tense and his finger instinctively press against his safety catch. “Here we go again.”

  He squinted into the darkness and the area directly ahead of him as he reached the roadside. There was something there, right in front of him, but his eyes wer
e slow to adjust. He was not wearing NVGs, and it took him a few seconds to recognise what he was looking at. Eventually, a strange and intricate shape began to emerge, darker than its surroundings and moving in a different, more erratic manner compared to the rest of the greenery that gently oscillated from side to side in the wind.

  “What the fuck?” he gasped under his breath, unsure if his eyes were deceiving him.

  There, sitting at the side of the road, was one of the infected. However, this particular corpse was much different from what he was used to seeing. He had seen them in all kinds of states and predicaments from bloated, waddling cadavers dragging themselves from the water, to just a head and shoulders, hauling itself along with only one arm. There had been one in particular with no arms and only half a face that had become a walking sanctuary for birds that nestled inside its ribcage. Another was a virtual beehive. He had seen them in every manner possible, or at least he thought he had.

  Bull leaned in closer and watched it with curiosity. It must have been there for years while becoming overgrown with weeds and vines. He had seen how some of the dead became dormant after long periods, choosing to sit or stand in the same spot until something caught its attention. The one in front of him, fighting with its organic restraints, had probably been sitting there for the past decade, Bull guessed.

  Now, sensing movement close by, and seeing a living human being for the first time in many years, something stirred within it and awoke it from its inactivity. As Bull approached to get a closer look, the thing let out a gasping moan, its mouth stretching wide and releasing a colony of bugs that had been nesting in its throat. It was almost completely skeletal and was covered in green moss and brown mould. It would probably be incapable of standing even if it managed to work its way free from the weeds that ensnared it.

  Bull was able to see the plant life and insects that had made themselves a home within the creature’s decomposing flesh. Wilted dandelions sprouted from between its clavicle with more tangles of weeds and thin branches sprouting up from its abdomen. It was hard to distinguish where the corpse stopped and the trees began.

  “Have you seen this? Look at it. It looks like somebody’s sick idea of a flower-bed,” Bull grunted, unable to contain his macabre interest.

  At the sound of his words the dead body began to fight harder against the vines. It thrashed its head and snarled loudly. With a hollow pop, it wrenched its body away from the bushes, leaving behind one of its arms that had become fused with the bark of a tree. Bull jumped back as the upper torso fell forward and hit the ground with a crunch and a snap, its brittle spine breaking in two while its legs and lower abdomen remained embedded within the weed growth. It continued to writhe and claw at the road’s surface, gnawing at the tarmac with its shattered teeth, and reaching out towards Bull’s boots.

  “Shut it up, for fuck sake,” Stan snarled from the right.

  Bull snapped himself back from his morbid curiosity and pulled out his blade. Stepping to the side of the corpse, he lunged forward as the creature began to moan and wail. He stooped and drove the knife into the back of its skull and instantly withdrew. Complete silence was once again restored to the area.

  “You should’ve had a look,” Bull said to Stan as he joined him at his side. “Really fucking weird how it had turned into half-man, half-tree.”

  “Crack on with your botany interests on your own time,” Stan replied with disapproval. “Stay switched on.”

  Seconds later, after Stan had confirmed the directions from the sign post, the small convoy was moving again. Stan had been correct in his estimations of distance, and within an hour, after having to navigate around more blockages along their route, they were approaching the location of the intended rendezvous.

  Charlie had chosen the location for them, having recced the area personally. It was just two kilometres from the suburbs; prominent but remote enough not to be particularly attractive or accessible for the roaming dead. It had once been a public park with a large hill jutting up in the centre and surrounded by relatively flat, low ground. It could be seen from a distance against the horizon, even in the dark, and the observatory placed on top of the high ground made it impossible to miss.

  Along a narrow track running up a short but steep hill, the vehicles approached the meeting point. From beyond the treetops they could see the observatory, its dome roof towering above the surrounding area. As Stan’s vehicle pushed through the trees that flanked the track and emerged into a flat open area, they saw a much smaller building a hundred metres to the left of the main structure, surrounded by a two-metre-high wire fence. A man was standing in the area between the buildings deliberately silhouetting himself against the dark grey sky.

  “There he is,” Taff announced, knowing that the others had already seen him.

  The lead vehicle stopped a few metres short, but Taff kept the engine running and remained seated behind the wheel. The second vehicle had gone static at the treeline, remaining tucked into the shadows on the crest of the hill. There, Kyle and Mark would cover the approaches and be ready to give support to Stan and the others if things were not as they should be at the rendezvous. Nothing was going to be taken for granted, and they needed to confirm the identity of the figure and ensure that the area was secure before moving in completely.

  Stan stepped out and walked towards the man. The ground beneath him was wet, and his boots squelched lightly through the muddy grass. He could see the large shape of Bull moving along to his right, his rifle trained on the figure standing before them.

  “It’s about time you old ladies decided to turn up,” the man grunted in a hushed, deep voice. “We were beginning to think that you were planning on leaving all the hard work to me and my boys.”

  Even without being able to see his face Stan could tell that Charlie was smiling. The man always smiled, and his displays of affection and friendship were never false. He had an aura about him that exuded warmth and affability. Even in pitch blackness, Stan could feel the man’s delight at seeing them arrive safely radiating out from his body.

  Sitting in the small maintenance building while two of Charlie’s men, Trevor and Bryn, remained outside to watch the area, Stan and his team were briefed on the situation. It was cramped inside, the small building never having been intended to be more than a storage shed for tools and equipment, and large enough to house a small portable generator and for two or three people to work inside with a degree of comfort. Now there were seven of them crammed into the tight space, breathing the same stuffy air, and in close proximity.

  “You smell ripe,” Bull grunted to Charlie who was crouched to the left of him.

  “Yup, I guessed as much. We haven’t been living in luxury the way that you fellows have for the past few weeks. One good thing about this place, though,” he continued, turning to Bull with a wide smile. “It has a chemical toilet that still works. Real toilet paper, too. We couldn’t believe our luck when we broke in here. All the looters in the early days must’ve forgotten about this place.”

  “Paradise,” Bull concurred sarcastically, but fully aware of how small victories and luxuries could make a hard task seem more bearable.

  He looked at Charlie and could see that the man’s delight for their fortunate discovery was genuine. He laughed and patted the older man on his shoulder.

  “How’s things with you, Taff? You brought me any fags?” Charlie asked, turning to the one man who always seemed to be well stocked with cigarettes. “We ran out a few days ago, and every place we’ve checked around here has been picked clean.”

  Taff grunted and pulled a fresh packet from his pocket. He tossed them over to Charlie without saying a word.

  Charlie turned to Bull and raised an eyebrow. It was not like Taff to be so sullen around him. They had been good friends for years, and their banter was usually relentless.

  “Ah, don’t mind him,” Bull reassured him. “He’s just being precious. He got felt up by a dead bloke earlier, and he hasn’t been t
he same since. I think it gave him a hard on, and he feels ashamed about it.”

  “Fuck off,” Taff grunted, running his fingers through his matted beard and grinning back at Charlie. “Just tired is all. Been a long day, mate.”

  Charlie nodded, glad to hear that his friend was just in need of some rest.

  “Any comms with the people inside?” Stan asked, wanting to get down to business and work out what their next move should be.

  “Nothing as yet. We helped a couple of them out earlier today, actually.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “Two of them got themselves trapped in the centre of town. I think they may have been looking for something specific, but they got spotted and were surrounded by thousands of those things. We played the old music box trick to distract the dead and help them escape. It worked a treat, mostly. They managed to get out, but we lost track of them.”

  “How’s things at their base? Any change?”

  “Yeah, some big changes,” Charlie replied gravely. “Thousands of the dead have launched an assault. They’ve closed in on the perimeter, and now the walls are thick with them. There was a fair bit of shooting earlier on, but things have gone quiet now. I don’t think the perimeter has been breached, but I can imagine that they’ll all be in a bit of a flap at the moment.”

  “Do you think the walls and gates will hold?” Taff asked.

  Charlie shrugged. During the hours of daylight, two of his men had kept a close eye on the fortress, watching as the dead advance grew in size and force. For hours they had been mercilessly battering away at the concrete walls and steel gates, and no one could be sure that the perimeter would hold, especially after all these years.

  “It’s hard to tell. I’d say that their weakest points will be the gates. Personally, I think it’s only a matter of time before one of them collapses.”

  “What about the two blokes you helped?” Kyle added. “Any idea how they got back, or if they got back?”