by Jacob Rayne
A trail of blood led up the path in front of them. They wondered if it was from the old man they’d seen or from someone else.
The question was answered when the chef burst from around the next corner, flailing his knives. The tip of the butcher’s knife sunk into Paul’s shoulder, sending white hot pain pulsing through his body.
Paul somehow gained the foresight to duck as the cleaver in the chef’s other hand tore the air where his throat had previously been.
Paul’s knees hit the floor, and he shoved hard from his crouched position. The chef spun back, off-balance from his over-zealous swing. The cleaver stuck into the wooden wall of one of the apartments.
While the chef tried to pull the blade free, Billy picked up a loose stone from the floor and ran in.
‘Have this, ya fucker,’ he grunted, crashing the stone into the chef’s face. Blood ran down from his forehead. The chef roared and lashed out with the free knife. Billy bobbed and weaved like a champion boxer and slammed his knee into the chef’s leg.
The chef drooped a little, giving Billy enough space to slam the stone onto the top of his head.
‘Billy,’ Paul said, pointing down the corridor to where a group of lunatics had already set off running towards them.
‘I’ll fucking see you later,’ Billy said, punctuating his threat with another blow from the stone.
The chef swung the free knife again, cutting a thin line across Billy’s chest. Billy went to lunge at the chef again, but Paul pulled him away and shoved him up the corridor.
Behind them they heard the noise of the chasing crowd, and then the triumphant shout of the chef as he freed his cleaver and joined the chase.
‘These fuckers are relentless,’ Billy said.
‘They just don’t seem to get tired,’ Janet agreed.
‘We’ve got to get out of here, and hope there’s still something out there for us,’ Paul said.
‘Thanks for that valuable insight, darling,’ Janet scoffed.
Paul opened his mouth to reply, but Billy silenced both of them with a glare. ‘Any more of this shit and you two are on your own. I mean it, I’ve fucking had enough.’
Paul and Janet glared at each other for a second then looked away.
‘Come on, let’s get the fuck outta here,’ Billy said.
They ran through the complex until they reached the outer perimeter.
Bloody handprints adorned most of the doors around here.
The windows were either caved in or slick with blood.
Either way, it was clear there were going to be no allies inside.
Janet saw a large band of crazies fanning out from the complex’s main entrance. She ducked into one of the rooms with a bloody handprint on the door.
All four of the survivors slipped in the blood that drenched the floor. Paul went to shut the door, but Janet talked him out of it, reasoning that the lunatics would find a closed door unusual and would investigate.
Billy told Janet and Sam to hide in the bathroom. He and Paul would wait in the bedroom and let them know when they were able to make their escape.
Janet almost pointed out that her or Sam would make a better sentry than Paul, but remembered what Billy had threatened. Without him they’d really be venturing paddle-less up shit creek.
Billy hid behind the door to the room. Paul crouched behind one of the beds, peering over the top. Three tanned men ran past, screeching. A larger group followed them.
He ducked instinctively when the larger group passed the window, then came up to check if they’d gone. Cursing, he saw a teenaged boy peering in through the red-tinted glass.
He ducked out of sight, hoping and praying that he hadn’t been spotted.
A shadow from the doorway fell into the room and Paul knew his prayer had been in vain. The teenager came in. His breathing was loud and ragged. Paul realised that this was on account of his nose being flattened against his face.
The boy stood, staring at the floor. Paul wondered what he was waiting for, until, with dread, he eyed the trails of footprints that they had all made in the blood. The trails showed clearly where all four of them had gone.
The boy looked up and saw Paul, who stood up, waiting for the inevitable attack. The boy instead turned to face the door and heaved it away from the wall, exposing Billy.
When he saw the bouncer, the boy let out a shrill cry and sprang forward, his arms outstretched. Billy was stunned by the turn of events and his inaction allowed the boy to grab hold of his throat and start sinking his thumbs into his trachea.
The boy’s grip was much stronger than he’d anticipated and already Billy began to wheeze for breath. Paul edged closer and picked up an ornate letter opener from the TV cabinet near the door. It didn’t look very sharp, but it would have to do.
Billy started to panic and pulled weakly at the boy’s claw-like hands which seemed to be welded to his throat.
Paul took a deep breath, raised the letter opener and brought it down in an ice-pick grip. The blade bounced off the back of the boy’s neck, drawing only a few pinpricks of blood and bending the makeshift weapon out of shape.
The boy screeched and turned to face Paul, releasing his grip on Billy’s throat. Billy coughed and spluttered then shoved the kid’s head back into the wall.
‘Janet, put the taps on in the bath,’ he shouted.
Water hurtled through the pipes and into the bath.
‘What are you doing?’ Paul said.
‘Drowning the little fucker so he can’t call his crazy friends,’ Billy said. His voice was strained because his breathing was yet to return to normal.
The boy thrashed in Billy’s arms. Once again, he was much stronger than he looked. Billy struggled with him, despite being strong and having at least three stone on the skinny kid.
‘Give me a hand then, mate,’ Billy snapped at Paul.
Paul moved in, trying to get a grip on the youth’s flailing legs. One of them caught him in the face, setting the throbbing in his eye off anew. He stumbled back, his vision blurred. He moved in cautiously, eager to avoid the flying limbs.
The boy’s heel sunk into his gut and made the air burst out of him. After pulling in a couple of pained breaths, he gritted his teeth and moved in again. This time he caught both of the youth’s ankles. He gripped them as hard as he could and helped Billy to drag their assailant towards the bathroom.
They bundled him into the bathroom while Janet and Sam watched from next to the toilet.
‘Drop him in headfirst,’ Billy said.
He and Paul threw the youth into the bath. His head bounced off the bath edge, momentarily diminishing his struggles. Billy punched him in the face and shoved his head beneath the water.
Bubbles exploded out of the bath as the teenager figured out what was going on. Desperation adding to his strength, he bucked and managed to pull his head out of the water.
Paul knew that Billy was going to have a hell of a time holding the fucker down, so he moved in next to him and held the lad’s head below the surface.
Again the youth pulled his head out of the water just when they had begun to think his struggles were weakening.
Billy hauled him on to the edge of the bath, holding his neck with his left hand. His right hand shot out like a piston, striking the intruder in the face and the gut so many times that Billy’s companions lost count. When he was battered and bleeding, they dunked him for a third time.
Though the boy still struggled, it was obvious that he was weakened by the beating he’d taken. Paul and Billy held on for grim death, keeping the bastard’s head beneath the rising tide of the bathwater.
After what seemed to be hours, the boy let out a final cloud of bubbles and went limp. They held him beneath the surface for another minute, just to be on the safe side, then let go of him.
He bobbed up and down in the water, clouds of red billowing from the wounds that Billy’s knuckles had made in his face.
No one in the bathroom spoke for a few minutes.
There were no words that could sum up the experience they had all just endured. In silence, they took their weapons and checked to see if their escape route was clear.
When they saw no one approaching, they left the room and moved along the row of apartments, heading for the entrance which was almost in sight.
For a second time they were forced to duck into one of the rooms as a large group of the insane ran past. This time no one followed them inside. They left the room, still in an uneasy silence.
The gates that led from the hotel grounds to potential freedom were guarded by a large group of crazies.
Bodies were strewn around the paving stones that led to the gates.
Blood streaked the walls, running down and linking together large pools which had gathered on the floor. A severed head sat on the ground between them and the crazies, obviously meant as a warning.
‘How are we going to do this?’ Billy said, pulling each of his companions into a shadowy stairway. Above them running feet pounded the floor. A shrill scream rang out from one of the rooms upstairs, bringing home to them the price of failure.
‘I think we should split up,’ Paul said. ‘I’ll take the boy. Billy, you take Janet. We’ll set off towards the gate then lead them away. You two get out and go for help.’
‘What about you two?’ Janet asked.
‘We’ll be fine,’ Paul said. ‘If necessary we can hide in the complex until you get back with help.’
‘What if there’s no one to bring back?’ Billy said, voicing the unspoken thought they’d all had.
‘We’ll deal with that as and when we need to,’ Paul said.
Billy thought about it for a second and nodded. ‘Ok, we’ll go. If we don’t see you again—’
‘Please let’s not go there,’ Janet said. ‘I can’t be thinking about that.’
‘She’s right,’ Paul said. ‘We need to stay positive.’
They all nodded. Paul hugged Billy and thanked him for all of his help. He then held his wife, whispering reassuring words in her ear.
Janet knew he had told her to go with Billy as that would be her best chance of survival. In that instant, his affair was forgiven. She just hoped they’d both live long enough to meet again and rebuild their marriage.
Paul held the embrace for a minute then gave her a passionate kiss. Then he and Sam set off across the flagstones towards the gates.
Janet winced when she heard the bloodthirsty cries from the crowd gathered at the gate. Every one of them was covered in blood and wore an ominous grin. The thought of them getting their hands on Paul was unbearable. Even if they got the kid, as long as Paul got away that’d be—
She shook her head in an attempt to clear it. She had no desire for Sam to get hurt either. The first of the crazies had already started running towards Paul and Sam. He held a bloody hockey stick in his hands.
Paul stood for a moment, unable to move. The spell broke when the rest of the group started towards him. He found it hard not to look over to where Billy and Janet hid, but he didn’t want to give away their position. When the man with the hockey stick got to within twenty feet, Paul ran to the left. Sam matched his pace.
The heavy footfalls of the man with the hockey stick came from behind them. Paul couldn’t help but look back. The man wore a crazed expression and was gaining on them.
The rest of the group were a good way behind. If they could just outrun the man with the hockey stick they’d be okay.
Paul wished he really had been playing football three nights a week instead of seeing his secretary, as the improved fitness would have come in handy. He cursed himself for this and for his decision to leave it so long before running.
It looked like it was going to cost him dearly.
FOUR
Billy and Janet waited until the band of crazies were out of sight, then they broke cover and headed for the gates. A lone man guarded the entrance. Billy pulled Janet into a doorway just as the crazy looked over towards them. A bone-chilling scream came from their left.
‘I hope that’s not Paul and Sam,’ Billy said.
Janet nodded. It wasn’t even worth thinking about.
The crazy looked down at one of the bodies on the floor. While he was distracted, Billy ran to the next doorway along, which was also cloaked in shadows. He raised his hand to stop Janet, who was about to run.
The crazy looked right at them.
Janet felt his eyes crawl over her. Then he looked away, resuming his inspection of the bodies at his feet.
Billy beckoned Janet forward. She arrived in the doorway just as the guard looked back towards them. She was out of breath despite the short distance of her run. Panic was exhausting, she discovered.
The crazy stared at their hiding place again, as if he could see them. They waited for their next chance to run. The next doorway was the last hiding place between them and the gate. After that they’d have to take the risk.
Paul’s legs burnt with lactic acid and he knew he couldn’t keep running for much longer. The man behind them kept up his relentless pace. A few seconds more and he would catch them. The others were gaining on them too.
Paul spun and threw a punch, reasoning that at least he’d have the advantage of surprise. The man with the hockey stick sure wouldn’t be expecting Paul to turn and plant him one.
The blow landed hard, helped by the man’s charging momentum. His legs wobbled, but after a second he seemed unfazed. Paul scanned the floor for a weapon, but saw only torn, mutilated bodies.
The man was recovered now and he wore a sadistic grin. He whacked the stick menacingly on the floor at his feet.
Paul didn’t want to know what a blow from the stick felt like. He picked up a handful of dirt and threw it into the man’s face. The man coughed and tried to wave the dust out of his eyes.
While he floundered, Paul threw his best punch. It landed flush on the man’s jaw. The man’s eyes, already rolled back most of the way into his skull, completed their journey. His legs betrayed him and dumped him on the paving stones. His head met the ground with a satisfying crack. Blood started to pool around his head.
The sight sickened Paul but he knew he was justified in his actions.
He wrenched the hockey stick from the man’s convulsing hands and ran before the group of crazies reached him.
Janet and Billy made it to the last doorway without the sentry seeing them. They took a minute to get their breath back. The man was looking towards them, but didn’t seem to be paying too much attention.
‘This is it,’ Billy said, a sad smile on his face. ‘Sink or swim.’
‘We should split up when we get to the gate. At least then one of us will make it.’
Billy nodded and put his arm around her shoulders. ‘Good luck. I’ll see you on the other side of that gate.’
Janet said, ‘I’ll go left.’
‘I was hoping you’d say that,’ Billy smiled. ‘After three.’ He counted to three on his fingers then they burst from the darkened doorway and sprinted towards the gate.
Paul and Sam moved into the abandoned bar. Bodies slumped over a few of the tables, blood pooling beneath their still forms. The shouts and jeers of the group who were chasing them had faded a little, which gave both Paul and his companion hope.
They weaved between the tables, trying not to disturb the dead.
‘Behind the bar,’ Paul muttered.
They ducked down behind the long wooden bar, wincing when their knees hit the patch of blood that soaked the floor. The barman laid facedown at the other end of the bar, his ruined head still pumping out blood.
They heard footsteps approaching, heard the insane screeching of the crowd and tried to stay calm. They were well hidden behind here; it was unlikely that the psychos would find them. Most of the footsteps and screams went past them and faded, but they weren’t too far away.
Just when they thought they were going to be alright the barman sat up and started to scream.
The crazy guarding the gat
e roared when he saw Janet and Billy. He picked up what looked like a hatchet from behind him, smiled a lunatic’s grin and waited for them to come.
Billy got there first and he went left then weaved right, a move he’d learnt as a youngster playing football. The crazy had clearly never seen it before as he stumbled, letting Billy round him. He swung the hatchet as Billy passed, but it was a clumsy, petulant attack which put the Scouser in no danger.
As Janet darted to the left, the crazy moved to block her. The hatchet missed her face by the narrowest margin. She felt the breeze from the blow.
The crazy rallied and went to swing again. Janet stamped on his right foot but the blow had no effect. The hatchet came through the air. The blunt end of the blade thudded into the right side of her head. Pain flared all over her body.
Billy ran in and kicked the crazy in the back of the knees, jolting him forward and sending the hatchet flying out of his hand.
He screeched then turned on Billy, who swung a punch that rocked the man’s head to the right.
‘Use the hatchet,’ Billy said.
The words seemed to come through a haze. For a few vital seconds Janet didn’t have a clue what he was saying. Then the blinding pain in her head returned and she understood.
She started moving towards the weapon which lay on the floor behind the crazy. As she knelt to pick it up, the pain intensified, made her swoon, but she kept on at the grim task until she had the hatchet.
The crazy wore a look of childlike glee as he slammed Billy’s head into the metal fencepost again and again.
Janet ran over and swung the hatchet with all of her might. It stuck into the crazy’s right clavicle at an angle. He gave up his frenzied assault on Billy and put his hand to the wound.
