“Come on, man, we got to get out of here,” Sasha said.
Kirill said nothing for a moment, studying the street outside. Several zombies were spread out on the street, some of them sitting down leaning against parked cars amid old newspapers, a few more shuffling aimlessly. Kirill said, “There’s zombies out there, but we should be able to move between them. When we move, stay close to me. Make as little noise as possible. We need to keep moving.”
“Wait, wait, man, maybe we should just go back to the apartment. You know what happened last time we were outside.”
“There’re zombies coming from upstairs. We need to do this now.”
The Nightmare Man was right; Sasha could hear them. The zombies that had followed them from the apartment were howling, and in response, more howls were coming from the apartments. More heavy apartment doors were pushed open. More steps gathered on the staircase.
The bodies on the floor began to growl, slowly sitting up.
Kirill was startled, ready to start killing every one of them.
Sasha was breathing rapidly, unsure what to do.
“Come on,” said Kirill, flinging open the heavy steel door. The light from outside was blinding. Sasha retreated for a moment, but Kirill had seized his shirt, dragging him with shocking strength out into the street.
Several zombies paused to investigate the sound of the heavy door opening. Kirill was moving instantly, running for the main road. It would lead them to the city centre. They ran fast, fueled by adrenalin. Behind them, zombies began pouring out of the apartment building they had left.
The street was dirty. Cars were left askew in the road, sometimes with their windows smashed and trails of blood leading out. There was garbage in the road. They passed a skeleton beside a burned car, both of them blackened. There was the shell of a baby basket in the back seat. Moving around the car, Kirill avoided a reaching hand from a zombie lying on the road, turning to kick the creature in the face.
“God dammit! We need to get off the road,” said Kirill.
There was a faint explosion and a chip of road burst apart beside Kirill. Sasha looked down at his own leg. It was bleeding, fierce. His eyes widened, hands going to this new wound.
“Get down!” hissed Kirill, pulling Sasha to the road and behind the car.
“What just happened?”
“Someone’s shooting at us.”
“I … I’ve been shot?”
“Yes, but I don’t think it’s serious. We need to get out from the open; we can use the buildings for cover and get the hell out of here.”
“You mean like the apartment? We were safe there.” Sasha was smiling. Blood ran through his fingers.
Kirill edged around the car and retrieved a broken side mirror from the road. He held it around the side of the car, scanning the buildings.
“Some girl is shooting at us. She’s set up in a building across the road.”
“Some girl wants us dead? Maybe we should talk to her, tell her were not … not like them … we’re human …” Sasha was going pale.
“I don’t think she wants to listen.”
Suddenly, another shot rang out and a nearby car was hit. Then another car was struck. And another. On the fourth shot, the car’s alarm screeched into life. The noise was enormous in the street. All the nearby zombies looked their way. The zombies that were sitting rose to their feet. Holding the small mirror, Kirill was sure he saw the shooter smile.
“Shit! Now all the zombies know we’re here.” Kirill kept low, seeing zombies approaching from all around them.
“Don’t leave me here, man, don’t leave me,” Sasha said, but Kirill did exactly that, fleeing and using the cover of the cars as best he could while the zombies closed in from the surrounding streets. Some of the ghouls gave chase to Kirill, but most of them zeroed in on Sasha, as if sensing he was the vulnerable one. The sniper made several attempts to shoot Kirill, but he moved in a zigzag irregular pattern, moving from car to car so he was difficult to shoot. Bullets smashed the road around him as he ran.
Sasha realised, bitterly, that he had been a fool. With a name like the Nightmare Man, there was no way he should have had anything to do with Kirill, let alone trust him with his life. Of course, Kirill would do anything to complete his mission to find his brother. Including leaving Sasha to die.
He lay on the road, watching Kirill go. Looking frantically around him, he saw the zombies were almost on him. He used his good leg to kick away, scooting across the road breathlessly, pressing his back into the burned car, trying as best he could to hide. His breath came ragged and fast, worst now that death was near. Everywhere dark shapes loomed closer. Even through his fear, he noticed the girl in the building across the road. She had stood up now at the smashed window, obviously aware that Kirill and Sasha were little danger to her. She seemed to have the gun aimed at Sasha, and he thought it would be far more merciful if she did shoot him; it would be a much better way to go then being eaten alive by the crowd of zombies. But she seemed content just to watch events unfold, leaving Sasha to his fate as the noise of the car alarm drew even more zombies.
Sasha glanced about him desperately for a weapon of some kind. His intention was not to try and fight off the horde. He was long past believing there was any escape here. The reason he was searching for a weapon was to end his own life before the zombies reached him. There was nothing nearby that could be used to end this. He released his hands from his leg wound, letting the blood flow free.
The first of the zombies crept around the side of the car; she was an old woman, literally skin and bone, pulling herself along the car and cautious at first, but then hissing when she seemed to realise Sasha wasn’t going anywhere. Now there were more ghouls to the opposite side of him, two men now, they might have been businessmen in their former lives. Sasha’s head sank onto his chest, a pool of blood gathering around him. He prayed the end was quick, and that the blood loss would kill him before the zombies did.
“Fuck you, Nightmare Man.”
The zombies had reached his feet now, excited that they were going to tear him apart. He heard a car in the distance, over the sound of the nearby car alarm. He didn’t associate any significance with the car engine sound.
The old woman growled into his face, now just inches away. He was frozen in terror, the cords in his neck threatening to snap.
Suddenly, a car was roaring towards him, hitting some of the other cars left on the road but definitely destined to run Sasha over. This car seemed to have zombies lashed to the roof of it. He watched with interest, actually relieved that he would be run over instead of eaten alive. The car swerved moments before hitting him, smashing into the zombies instead. The driver side door opened.
“Give me your hand!” shouted Kirill. Sasha reached out, and Kirill yanked him into the car with one arm. The car was a taxi, no seat belts, the left-hand side had two destroyed zombies broken and stacked together on it. They were seat-belted into place. When the sniper started shooting, Sasha could see why; the corpses blocked the view of the sniper. Shots smashed into the zombies tied to the roof, others going wide and hitting the road. Kirill drove in a haphazard fashion, trying to be unpredictable, trying also to avoid the zombies that were now approaching. Sasha crawled to the backseat, watching as Kirill was trying to drive and keep his head down.
“Sorry I left you back there,” Kirill shouted, “but we needed some way to get out. I hope you can forgive me.”
Sasha clamped down on his leg wound again. Moments earlier, he had been prepared to die. Now, he was desperate to live.
“Thanks for coming back for me.”
One of the front tires exploded, destroyed by a sniper shot. The car turned to the side violently, smashing into three zombies who were sent flying. They landed in the street and immediately got up again. Kirill fought for control of the car, struggling to keep from crashing. He hit another zombie who was knocked over the roof of the car before landing in the road. It was on its feet again in
seconds, howling and pursuing the escaping vehicle.
“Russia’s worst drivers,” said Sasha. “I think I saw this on TV.”
The car fishtailed around the corner, one final bullet smashing through the driver-side window. They were now, temporarily at least, away from the sniper.
“We can’t go far in this thing,” said Kirill “We just need to put some distance between us and the sniper. Then we can find something else to travel in.”
Sasha lay back down on the floor of the car. Everything had a detached feel to it, as if he was disconnecting from reality. He remembered it was important to keep pressure on his leg and he did, fading into darkness.
25.
Less than two blocks away, Kirill crashed into another car. He had been driving on a steel rim anyway. There were zombies in the street but most of them were being drawn towards the car alarm from the car the sniper had shot. Kirill lifted Sasha from the back seat, carrying him almost effortlessly. As he got out of the car, a nearby zombie’s head exploded, almost instantly followed by another. Kirill flinched, keeping his head down, understanding that the sniper was toying with him. He ran for a nearby restaurant, taking him out of the line of sight of the sniper for now.
It was dark inside. Kirill lay Sasha on the table. “Keep pressure on your leg, comrade. I will search for medical supplies.”
Kirill moved into the nearby kitchen, scanning for enemies from the doorway as he went. Normally, this type of room clearance would be carried out with a machine gun, but all he had now was a knife. The kitchen seemed safe enough so he went inside. There were open cupboards full of dishes and shelves stacked high with food. At least they wouldn’t go hungry. Nearby, he found a green first aid box. He removed it from the wall and put it on the bench. Inside, the contents were basic. He closed the lid again and returned to Sasha with the plastic first aid box.
“We need to keep the pressure on your leg, my friend.” Kirill was taking fresh gauze from thin plastic packets.
“Aren’t you going to try and remove the bullet like Rambo or somebody?”
“No, safer to leave it in there. If we get out of this mess, I’ll take you to a doctor. In the meantime, you’ve got me.”
Kirill took his belt off and measured Sasha’s leg with it, using his knife to make a new hole for the belt buckle. He carefully moved Sasha’s hands aside, quickly placing the gauze on the wound and then wrapping the belt around and pulling it tight, a crude but effective tourniquet. Kirill disappeared for a minute, rummaging around the kitchen and returning with two water bottles. He unscrewed one and gave it to Sasha.
“Thanks,” Sasha took a big gulp, “but I thought it was bad to drink water when you have an injury?”
“Probably, yes. But as we will most likely be dead soon, I thought you would not like to do thirsty. Am I right?”
“I guess so.”
They could see out on the street and see the zombies walking passed. The relative darkness of the restaurant meant it would be more difficult for anyone else to see in.
Two of the zombies outside were expertly shot through the head and fell in the street. Kirill ducked behind the counter, watching carefully. Where Sasha lay on the counter, he could not be seen from the street. Another zombie fell, close to the car they had used to escape the sniper. Kirill drew his knife.
He crept as quietly as he could to the main window, being careful to remain hidden from the side the shots had come from. Leaning forward slowly, he peered out onto the street.
The sniper walked boldly down the middle of the road, clearly expecting she would not be shot. She cradled the rifle like a beloved child. Any time a zombie got too close, she shot them through the face with her handgun, almost as though they were unworthy of being killed by her rifle.
She had noticed the crashed getaway car with the zombies strapped to the roof and was moving towards it. She stopped suddenly mere metres away from where Kirill lay hidden in the dark. If he had a gun, he would have made the ambush now. Instead, he had his knife brandished. He knew she was a decent shot with the rifle and an experienced killer. Better to wait for her to move a little closer to the restaurant, or better yet for her to have her back to him.
The sniper removed a compact CB radio from her jacket. “Masha here. I’m chasing two people on foot. One’s wounded, badly. The other one will be slowed down by him. I’ll search for a few more minutes then I’m coming home. There’re zombies approaching from everywhere.”
Kirill waited while she put the radio away, her jacket sleeve moving up to reveal tattoos. His eyes widened. He was almost certain they were Russian Mafia tattoos.
When the radio was back in its pocket, Kirill inhaled sharply, ready for the kill. The moment she took one more step, she was dead. Suddenly, she turned around, there was someone watching them from a nearby rooftop. Masha had the rifle ready in an instant, but the young man was already fleeing. Masha began approaching the building that the observer had fled from, walking away from the restaurant. Kirill sank back into the shadows, still able to see her.
She stood in the street as zombies shuffled forward, drawn toward the car alarm that still sounded. Masha scanned the buildings as if trying to work out where Kirill and Sasha were hiding. She used the scope of her gun to scan the windows of the surrounding buildings but found nothing. Eventually, she took off her small backpack and flung open the straps. She took out a Mickey Mouse alarm clock. She wound it, then tossed it casually in the street, very close to the restaurant where Kirill watched.
The ringing of the alarm was noisy and it drew more zombies. Masha walked away. She didn’t look back.
26.
His name was Semyon. He sat on the counter beside Sasha, who was still unconscious. The Nightmare Man still had his knife drawn.
“You were lucky not to be shot,” he said to Semyon. “That woman knows how to kill.”
“I’m an experienced runner,” said the young man. “I’ve grown good at hiding and avoiding danger.”
“So what the hell’s going on in this city?”
Semyon smiled grimly, taking a water flask from his slim backpack. “Zombies, man. I don’t know what else to tell you. One day, they were just there. And everybody began dying. Only problem is, they got right back up again.”
Kirill waited impatiently, expecting a thorough debriefing, when that wasn’t forthcoming, he said, “Why was the woman after us? She clearly saw that we were human.”
“That’s the New Mafia, man. They’ve got loads of guns. They take new recruits sometimes. But you got to be real tough to join them.”
“So nothing’s changed there, at least.”
“Ha! You got that right.”
“Why didn’t you leave?” Kirill glanced out onto the street. He had disabled the Mickey Mouse alarm clock, but there were still about ten zombies outside the restaurant.
“Couldn’t. There’s a wall around the city.”
“So that was just there overnight? The zombies were here instantly, and so was the wall?”
Semyon thought for a moment. “I don’t know if the wall was there right from the start. But it was certainly impossible to leave. I heard reports of people getting shot if they tried to leave the city. There was no internet and no radios or television working. Anything we heard was just from other people on the street.”
“Are you part of a group?” Kirill asked, but Semyon laughed nervously and looked away.
“You said you were a runner. Does that mean that you transport important items? Or that you have to distract and draw the zombies away?”
“All that and more, man!”
“Okay. Do you have access to any guns?”
“They are out there; the problem is getting into people’s homes to get the guns out. You practically need safecracking equipment to get into an apartment. But if you can do that, you might find a machine gun or something.”
“I’m better with a gun.”
“Well, I’m better on my feet. I’m going to get some
supplies. There’re hungry mouths to feed.”
Semyon got off the counter in a fluid movement and went into the kitchen, plucking food stores from the shelves and putting them into his backpack.
Kirill checked on Sasha. He seemed to be stable, a little pale, but the bleeding was under control. The zombies on the street were reluctant to disperse; they had been drawn by the sound of the alarm clock, and it was as though they expected humans to return soon.
“Do you just run?” Kirill said quietly, but in the relative stillness of the restaurant, Semyon was able to hear him.
“That’s my specialty, man. But I do a good job of climbing, too.” Semyon came back with his backpack full of food items. “I set up some of those ladders, you see. Most buildings are pretty spread out, so there wasn’t much point even trying to connect them. But some of them are close enough together that all they need is ladder between them. Makes running from the zombi a lot easier.”
“I agree.”
Semyon held up a packet of dried seafood. “This is a good find.”
“Do you know where the Mafia are held up?”
“The New Mafia are based in the Tank Academy. You can’t miss it. They have wild parties every night. The noise and all the music draws a lot of zombies so they tend to have a crowd around them. Doesn’t stop them from doing what they like, though. They’re doing very well through all this.”
Semyon shouldered the backpack, testing the weight to make sure he wasn’t overburdened.
“This restaurant still has a lot of food I could use. I’ll come back here every morning at four for the next few days. If I see any sign of your sniper friend, I’ll run away. Otherwise, you and me can chat some more.”
Semyon walked directly to the entrance of the restaurant, tightening the straps of his backpack as he went. Incredibly, he walked out onto the street in front of the zombies and was too fast to be caught. He ducked under their reaching hands and was away, fleetly disappearing with the zombies staggering clumsily after him. The Nightmare Man watched him go.
The Nightmare Man: A Russian Zombie Novel Page 8
