The Nightmare Man: A Russian Zombie Novel

by Mick Franklin

  He watched as The Bear made his rounds, checking on each of the men, making sure each man had adequate provisions and was ready to bed down for the night. The hunters had their rifles out, checking they had survived the trek intact and were in good order. There were three guards on watch, each one leaning over the lip of the trench, a rifle pointed at the wilderness, all facing different directions. The plan was for each man to spend one hour guarding the camp. Anton wondered if he would have to take a turn. Although military service was compulsory for Russian males, Anton had never learned to fire a gun; his mother had helped him dodge the army by finding a doctor that swore Anton’s lungs were too bad for him to ever join the military. He had been grateful at the time, convinced that his talents were meant for another road in life, but now he wished he had at least some basic survival skills and experience with firearms.

  He decided then that he would get too cold during the night. The jacket was keeping him warm now, but the night would only grow colder. The other men all had campfires before them. He could try to join them, but he wanted to try and get his own campfire going. There was a mound of damp firewood nearby that had been gathered from the trees. There was also moss which could function as kindling to get the larger pieces of wood burning.

  Gathering up some sticks, he felt self-conscious, aware that Karl was watching him, aware that he was truly out of his element. He returned to his seat which was nothing more than compacted snow, crouching down and setting up his campfire. The moss, at least, was dry; it was spongy and springy in his fingers. He lay this at the base, building a latticework of sticks over the top. Later, he would add some bigger pieces, once the wood was burning properly. He was proud of the wood structure, which supported itself without falling down. His only experience with campfires as what he could remember from TV shows.

  Then he had a problem; he had no way of lighting the fire. He felt a rush of embarrassment, looking about him for something to get the fire going. Searching about him, he saw the only option was to go and ask someone else if he could take a lit piece of wood from their fire and use that to ignite the little structure he had built. The closest person to him was Karl. Carefully, he looked over to the KGB agent. Karl held up a silver lighter, amused. He had been watching everything.

  Mercifully, The Bear arrived.

  “Ah, I see you are making a fire. That is good. You just need to get it lit somehow.”

  “Yeah, about that …”

  The Bear offered him a cheap disposable lighter. Anton took it from The Bear’s giant hand and felt a surge of gratitude, thankful that he didn’t have to go and speak to Karl.

  “Thank you,” he said, trying to bring the lighter to life. The lighter sparked a few times before it would light, the flame fragile, caged in his hands. He held it to the moss, its soft texture accepting the flame. The campfire burned with a low fire.

  “I never leave home without half a dozen cheap lighters,” said The Bear. “They are so useful.”

  Anton watched with some satisfaction as the flames spread from the moss to the smaller sticks.

  “Is there anything else you take with you, survival stuff I mean?”

  “Yes, there are a few things.” The Bear extracted a bulky pocketknife from a pouch on his belt. “Something to cut with. I also carry strong cord, and a flask. Those are the basics. You can remember it this way; you need combustion, a cutter, cord, a container, and you need to find cover, something that will protect you from the weather. As long as you have those elements, you can’t go too far wrong.”

  “Hey, thanks, I will remember that.”

  “Not a problem, my young friend.” The Bear crouched beside him.

  Anton smiled at the campfire for a moment.

  “What time will we leave tomorrow?”

  “Dawn. We’ll have a light breakfast and hit the road. We’ve got everyone we can looking for Kirill, but I’m really hoping to get a grip on him first.”

  Anton added some wood to the fire. “You’re not playing games. You really hate this guy.”

  “He ended up in my care for a reason, don’t forget.”

  Anton was about to pursue the matter further when one of the men set to guard the camp suddenly called out, “Halt!”

  Anton’s blood froze. He couldn’t move. His heart leapt into his throat. The fear was a crippling thing; it always had been. He struggled to turn his neck towards the guard who had shouted.

  The guard was pointing his rifle over the trench, aiming at someone Anton couldn’t see. The Bear suddenly stood up, scanning left to right, growling. Anton watched fearfully, hating himself, wishing The Bear would protect him. The Bear’s eyes narrowed, his teeth bared.

  “Surrounded! Everyone, pick up a gun.”

  The men all scrambled for their weapons, splashing through the snow, safety catches fumbled away and guns loaded. Karl looked up with what seemed to be mild interest, slowly unbuckling his jacket and removing a handgun, checking it with calm efficiency and then getting to his feet. His two men actually seemed delighted at the prospect of there being trouble.

  The guard who had called out for the trespassers to halt did so again, then fired. The noise was terrifying to Anton’s ears, and above all, real. Several more shots rang out, making him flinch each time. Anton was petrified to the spot, sitting with his knees to his chest. He heard the guard call out, “It isn’t working! They must have body armour on! I shot that guy in the chest and he just got up again.”

  “Fuck, same here,” another guard yelled.

  The men were all leaning over the trench now, guns pointed into the night. Everyone except Anton, that is. The camp was protected on all sides.

  The Bear roared, “Fire!” blazing away over the trench.

  Anton saw the troops firing into the night, knowing he should do something to help, but only able to sink further into his spot. The shooting intensified, becoming closer together, presumably because the strangers had almost reached them and the men were beginning to panic.

  “They won’t fucking stay down!” roared The Bear.

  16.

  They were inside the city. The wall had been just over two metres at its lowest point, so Kirill had placed his jacket over the razor wire and they had scrambled over. Now they moved through the streets, once familiar to both of them, but now it was like they were on an alien planet. Nothing moved. Cars sat empty in the road. Apartment buildings showed no sign of life. They couldn’t even hear distant traffic. It was like the city was deserted.

  “What do you think happened?” asked Sasha. “Where is everyone?”

  “I have no idea. Maybe some kind of plague did this. Maybe after the meteor storm, there was an evacuation and everybody left.”

  “Hey, if either of those things is the case, then we probably shouldn’t be here.”

  Kirill held the hunting rifle in front of him as he walked. “You could be right, kid.”

  They walked through a quiet intersection and to the left of them a man sat in the road with his back to them.

  “Let’s ask this guy what’s going on.” Sasha began walking towards the stranger.

  “Wait,” said Kirill. “There’s something wrong with him.”

  Sasha froze and then nodded in agreement. He had a lot of trust in Kirill’s abilities.

  The man on the street turned to see them and slowly stood up. He looked like a homeless person and wasn’t even suitably dressed for the cold weather.

  “Excuse me, sir,” Kirill asked him. “We’d like to ask you what’s happened to the city.”

  As the man approached, it became clear this was no ordinary person. He had dried blood from a wound on his neck that had covered his shirt, making it black. His eyes were disturbing, a bright white fixed in an intense stare.

  “Shit, he isn’t right …” said Sasha.

  As the man got closer, he changed from a relaxed gait to suddenly launching into motion, running at Kirill. The Nightmare Man used the rifle to fend him off, shouting, “Stay ba
ck! I don’t want to shoot you!”

  The man seized the rifle with astonishing force. Kirill found he could not shake free. Instead, he was able to bring the rifle to bear at the man’s chest. The shot was loud.

  There was a hole through the man’s chest, and yet it didn’t even slow him down. He was leaning forward savagely, trying to bite Kirill.

  Kirill spun around to avoid the teeth, the strange man refusing to let go of the gun. Quickly loading another round, Kirill fired again, this time destroying the man’s left hip. Still, he didn’t react. He was entirely focused on attacking Kirill.

  Another round tore through the man’s left shoulder. This finally made him let go of the gun, but he still surged forward immediately, only to be caught in the jaw with the stock of the rifle. The man’s jaw was clearly shattered, having also become detached from his face, but it only slowed him down for a moment. He seized hold of the gun again.

  “Fuck you,” said the Nightmare Man and shot him through the head. The top of the man’s head disappeared. He fell immediately, but was still clutching the gun in a death grip. Kirill stood on the man’s chest, trying to yank the gun away, “Give it back, bastard!”

  All around, the apartments were suddenly turning to life. Sasha could see people, similar to the strange man, hitting the windows, trying to break out. A few more of these strange people staggered around a corner, instantly focusing on Sasha and Kirill.

  “Kirill, man, we gotta leave.”

  Kirill was still trying to retrieve the gun. “I’ve seen this before. I was out in the snow and I thought I was hallucinating. I saw one of them follow me, he fell and he shouldn’t have lived, but he got up again as if nothing happened. It looks like these people are all over the city.”

  “We need to get away. There’s more of them coming. Shit, they’re fucking everywhere!”

  “Remain calm. I need this gun. It’s our best chance to survive.”

  “There isn’t time!”

  The urgency in Sasha’s voice caught his attention. Kirill looked up to see they were almost completely surrounded, and as these strange people got closer, they seemed to speed up, running towards them.

  “Fuck! Alright, let’s go that way.”

  They ran, closely pursued by the horde. The streets were deserted, but their pursuers were howling at them, a sound which seemed to wake up and draw more people to the gathering crowd.

  “This is fucked, man!” said Sasha.

  “We need to get off the street. And find some way of defending ourselves.”

  “The apartments have got steel doors out front. No way we’re getting inside. Not before these people fucking get us.”

  “You’re right. Is there something else, some other way we can escape them?”

  Sasha pointed. “A fire escape over there. It will take us up and over that building.”

  “Let’s do it.”

  They were on the fire escape, taking the steps three at a time and launching themselves upwards. Kirill looked back as the first of the horde reached the steps. They were congested, clashing with each other in their desperation to reach their prey. That would buy them some time.

  “Keep moving,” Kirill said. “We’ve got to outrun them.”

  He had a good look at the faces of the people chasing them. They all had a crazed look in their eyes, teeth bared. Behind them moved a larger crowd of much slower people, less aggressive than the group that was now climbing the fire escape.

  Kirill kicked the closest pursuer back, the man flying back into the crowd and making those behind him stumble and fall on the stairs. In their desperate attempt to scramble to their feet, they obstructed each other, giving Kirill some much-needed time. He fled up the stairs to the top of the building where Sasha waited.

  “This way,” said Sasha. “There’s a walkway made out of ladders that will take us across the street. Someone uses this place to keep off the streets.”

  Kirill saw the walkway Sasha intended to use. It was literally three ladders bound together to form one very long ladder that stretched to a rooftop next door.

  “It doesn’t look safe …”

  Behind them, the first of the horde emerged from the stairs. They screamed their aggression and charged at Sasha and Kirill.

  “Then again,” said Kirill, and they made their way onto the ladders, walking at first but then crawling when it became obvious that falling was a real risk. It was a long way down.

  The horde reached the edge of the rooftop, some of the people screaming in rage and frustration and falling off the edge onto the street. Some of the other ones regarded the ladder walkway and scrambled onto it. Its awkward shape meant that they also slipped and fell.

  On the other side, Kirill and Sasha watched.

  “I think we’re safe,” said Sasha, out of breath. Kirill watched calmly. When the creatures fell onto the street, they didn’t move at all … as if they had hit their head. If anything else was injured, they just got right back up again and kept moving. There were now at least twenty smashed bodies on street level.

  “Alright, I’m pretty sure they can’t follow us, but we still shouldn’t stay here.”

  They got up and crept along the rooftop. There was a stairway leading down into the dark building below.

  17.

  Inside the apartment block, Kirill and Sasha crept along a dark corridor. The doors to each apartment were more like bank vaults – made of solid steel – but it was the case in Russia that although there wasn’t a lot of violent crime, theft and burglary were common. They were ready to run for the relative safety of the rooftop at the slightest hint of danger, but the building remained quiet. Eventually, they found an apartment with the door left open. They ran inside, Kirill doing a security sweep before bolting the door.

  Kirill stood on the balcony and observed the street. He was armed with the only weapon he could find – a kitchen knife. There was no electricity, but the water still worked. Sasha was running some tap water through a filter, as he knew from experience the water in Chelyabinsk was not safe to drink.

  Sasha joined Kirill to look out on the street below. “So what the hell are they?”

  “Good question. From what we’ve seen, there seems to be two kinds of them. Those that ran after us, and were falling off the building –”

  “And the slow ones like from Dawn of the Dead.”

  “What’s that?”

  Sasha smiled. “A zombie movie! You do watch movies, right?”

  Kirill looked blank.

  “Oh, that’s right, you’re Spetsnaz. You don’t have any hobbies or interests at all, do you? You just train all the time and live to serve Mother Russia, am I right?”

  Kirill did laugh at that. It was the first time Sasha had seen him laugh.

  “I see you’ve read the propaganda! Well, I do have some interests outside of my work. So tell me, what do we know about these things?”

  “Zombies, man.”

  “Alright, zombies, then. What have we learned?”

  Sasha thought for a moment. “The slow ones are a lot less aggressive. But it seems like there’s more of them.”

  “Yes. And both kinds have extremely limited intelligence, and no sense of self-preservation. On the rooftop, those things were so angry they literally didn’t mind falling to their deaths. They just wanted to kill us.”

  “Yeah, maybe that’s something we can use against them, somehow.”

  Kirill nodded. “Another thing is that they are incredibly strong. That one that grabbed the rifle – I’m sure I broke his arms. But he still wouldn’t let go.”

  “You shot him in the head.”

  “Yes, that seems to be the way to stop them. I noticed the ones that fell from the rooftop didn’t get up if they hit their head on the ground. If they get injured anywhere else, it doesn’t seem to matter. They just ignore it and keep on chasing you.”

  “What do you think they do when they catch someone?”

  Kirill turned from the street. “Some
of the zombies had bite wounds on them, and also looked like they had been torn open. Maybe this disease or virus or whatever it is gets spread by bites.”

  “Yes, that’s how it usually worked in the movies.”

  “Okay, so we have a basic idea of what we’re dealing with. We can’t afford to make any assumptions, however. There may be another type of zombie out there. And they are not the only thing we need to worry about.”

  “What could be worse than a city full of zombies?” Sasha asked.

  “For a start, whoever built that walkway between the two buildings. Someone else is obviously surviving here. Even worse, it seems like someone has covered all this up – the Spetsnaz men outside the city are there for a reason.”

  “You’re sure they would tell you everything?”

  “They would not lie to me. If they knew what was happening in the city, they would have told me. Someone has managed to keep all this quiet. Have you heard anything at all about a thing like this?”

  Sasha shook his head. “No, never.”

  “Well, I’m sure I saw one of those zombies in Siberia. This thing may not be contained here. And who knows how many other places this outbreak is affecting.”

  Sasha lowered his eyes. “I’m going to check if there’s any food here.”

  18.

  The lounge room was lit by candles.

  “Here’s all the food I could find, man.” Sasha offered Kirill a plate of caviar and biscuits. “Ikra and biscuits. Not bad at all. I even found a bottle of vodka to go with it. This is almost like old times; the electricity is out for the night and I’m in Chelyabinsk with my cousin. Would you like some vodka?”

  “No, I don’t drink.”

  “More for me then. How long do you want to stay here?”

  “We are safer moving at night. Harder for them to see us. I want to get to the city centre. My brother has an apartment there. And if there is any major group alive, that’s probably where they’ll be.”

  “Have you seen any other people since we got here?”

  “No,” Kirill took a biscuit with caviar on it, “but I have seen evidence of them. Someone is using the rooftops to avoid the zombies. I’ve seen a few of those bridges around. I have no idea if these people will mean trouble for us or not.”