Using another of the blades on his penknife, he then tried forced the tip into the thin gap surrounding the Perspex panel and its frame.
‘Shit,’ he said, the small blade suddenly snapping in two, ‘I think there’s some type of resin holding the panel in place. Grimes, I need more leverage.’
‘Here, use this,’ suggested Grimes, picking up Sinclair’s machete.
Turning to take the sharp weapon, Sinclair’s gaze flicked over Grimes’ shoulders to see something emerging from the shrubbery.
‘Down!’ he shouted, snatching the machete from Grimes’ hand.
Panicked, Grimes threw himself forward, instantly bringing the rifle up as he twisted and fired blindly. Unfortunately, before his mind could even register the startled mangy looking cat as it darted back into the undergrowth, he fired again.
‘Shit!’ said Grimes, his heart hammering in his chest. ‘It was just a cat, just a fucking cat.’
‘Sorry,’ said Sinclair, helping Grimes off of his lap, ‘I thought it was one of them, you know.’
‘Yeah, I know, it’s alright,’ replied Grimes, taking deep breaths to calm his beating heart, ‘let’s just get the hell out of here, shall we?’
‘No argument here,’ Sinclair muttered, forcing the tip of the machete into the gap.
With a grunt of effort, the broken section of the panel suddenly popped free, and a wave of cooler spring air blew in to greet the two grinning men looking at a hole that could now save their lives.
‘You go first, Grimes,’ said Sinclair, chucking aside the broken panel, ‘if you don’t fit, I certainly won’t.’
‘Okay,’ he replied, getting down on his stomach to crawl through.
‘Oh, here, take this,’ Grimes said as an afterthought, passing Sinclair the rifle, ‘you can hand it to me when I’m through.’
Sinclair nodded as he took the weapon and watched Grimes begin to wriggle through the hole. Once he had pushed aside the tall grass that had grown along the base of the dome, Grimes found that despite the outer hole being noticeably smaller, he could indeed fit through, and just hoped Sinclair would too.
‘Right, hand me the rifle,’ Grimes whispered, crouching down in case hungry eyes were on the lookout for some warm bloody flesh.
Silently, as to keep Grimes’ presence out in the open unknown, Sinclair got down on his belly and passed the rifle through to the anxiously unarmed man.
‘Here goes nothing,’ Sinclair said under his breath, as he began to move his muscular bulk along the ground.
He barely had his head through when he realised that, like some sort of contortionist, he would need to manoeuvre his shoulders and arms through one at a time. Pulling his head back out of the hole, he started again, this time putting his left arm and shoulder through first. Once these were through, his head went next. Then it started to get a bit tricky. By stretching out his left arm and snaking his right up along his chest, he finally managed to get his second arm out. With the metal frame digging into the flesh under his armpits, and the sharp edge of what remained of the Perspex panel digging into his back, Sinclair knew he would have to take it slowly if he wanted to reach the outside with all the skin on his body.
‘Almost there,’ whispered Grimes encouragingly.
It was then that Grimes caught the flicker of a shadow on the inside of the dome a few metres down from Sinclair. Leaning back on his ankles to get a better look, Grimes was horrified to see the shape of a man shambling along the inside of the dome wall towards Sinclair.
‘You’ve got to hurry,’ Grimes said quietly, knowing it would not go well if Sinclair panicked.
‘What?’ Sinclair replied, craning his head to look at Grimes, his brow creasing in concern.
‘Just hurry, okay.’ Grimes continued, unable to prevent his eyes flicking to the approaching shadow.
‘Oh, shit, there’s one of those pus-bags isn’t there,’ Sinclair cried, trying to look past his own bulk to see behind him. ‘Get me out of here, Grimes! Get me the fuck out!’
Then Sinclair did just what Grimes had feared, he started to panic.
‘Get me the fuck out!’ he shouted, starting to claw at the grass, earth, anything to pull himself through.
Nervously looking around in case any cadavers had been attracted by his cries, Grimes put one foot either side of the hole, took hold of Sinclair’s hands, and started to pull.
‘Pull!’ cried Sinclair, fear of what was behind him transforming his face into a mask of hysterical horror. ‘Pull, fucking Pull!’
‘I’m trying,’ huffed Grimes, quickly moving his hold to the shoulders of Sinclair’s jacket.
Already, he could see blood seeping through the fabric where the sharp Perspex panel had gouged deep into his skin, such was Sinclair’s need to be through the hole.
‘Please!’ Sinclair began to weep. ‘Please, I don’t want to fucking die, Grimes, please! Please help me!’
‘I’ll get you through,’ Grimes replied, straining to get more of the man through the hole, ‘I won’t let you go!’
Unable to help himself, Grimes glanced up at the horrific figure already bending down with its arms outstretched, reaching for Sinclair’s kicking legs.
‘I won’t let you go,’ he repeated, ‘I won’t let…’
Then as a cold hand suddenly clamped onto his calf, Sinclair was swallowed in a wave of pure terror, screaming his way to a welcomed oblivion.
***
‘Jesus!’ said Phil, automatically swinging his club toward a Dead man with one hand, while holding a screaming Charlie against his chest with the other.
The club connected violently with the side of the Dead man’s skull, shattering an already loose jaw bone, and tearing free what little flesh was left on his putrid face. Stumbling from the force of the blow, the Dead man that had suddenly appeared in front of Phil fell back into a second cadaverous comrade, knocking it to the ground. Seeing her chance, Liz darted forward to deal with the creature scrabbling on the ground to right itself.
‘Got it,’ she said, her blade flashing through the air to separate the gaunt head from its withered shoulders with a single blow.
In the time it took for the head to roll to a stop under a large flowering bush, Phil had despite cradling his precious cargo out of harm’s way, reduced the Dead man’s skull to little more than a pulpy mass.
‘Head’s up,’ called Imran, already pulling back the string of his bow.
Spinning to see what Imran was warning her about, Liz saw a third and fourth member of the Dead horde pulling themselves through the bushes a few metres along the path.
‘Oh, for Fuck’s sake,’ she grumbled, disappointed that the Dead were also ahead of them.
She had hoped that with the bulk of the horde behind them, spilling through the door poor Lucy had opened, that their path forward through the Mediterranean dome to its Tropical sister would be relatively clear of their Dead adversary. This was not proving to be the case though, and already, they had been forced to deal with six dead men, four women, and five children, all eager to rip them apart and feast on their bloody organs.
‘Does this mean the Dead are in the other dome too?’ asked Andrews, glancing back from his rear guard position to watch Liz stalk and dispatch one of the Dead, while Imran’s arrow finished off the second. ‘I mean, how come they’re ahead of us?’
‘God knows,’ replied Patrick, urgently waving the others forward now that the way was clear again, ‘let’s just pray there’s a way out in there somewhere, and that we’re not just walking into more trouble.’
‘The tunnel to the Tropical dome should be just round this corner,’ said Liz, jogging ahead with Steve and Imran only a few paces behind her.
‘Good, because we’ve got company,’ called Karen to her from the rear of the group, quickly backing up as the bulk of the horde began to emerge along the surrounding pathways and through the dense shrubbery. ‘A fucking lot of company.’
They had decided Phil and Charlie should try to s
tay in the centre of the advancing group, with Karen and their new addition, Private Andrews, covering their backs with what was left of the ammo, but with the Dead seemingly appearing at random through the greenery surrounding them, this plan was quickly starting to fall apart.
‘Don’t fire unless they get too close,’ Patrick warned Karen and Andrews, ‘we may need the ammo for later.’
‘But how close is too close?’ asked Andrews, anxiously walking backwards with Karen by his side, their rifles sweeping back and forth along the line of approaching Dead.
‘While we can still go forwards and keep a step ahead of most of them, we’re okay,’ replied Patrick, trying to reassure the young soldier. ‘If we have to try to double back on ourselves, that’s when we’ll need every bullet we’ve got and…’
Patrick was about to say more, but the corpse of a woman at the front of the crowd caught his eye. It wasn’t the fact that she was missing most of the contents of her torn open body cavity that had caught his attention, or the fact that what was left of her greasy, lank blonde hair had been put up into age inappropriate bunches, but that she had stopped advancing altogether, and that had piqued his interest. For some reason, her Dead family was suddenly leaving her behind. They now pushed past her slightly shaking body, jostling her back and forth, as if she was just another object annoyingly in their way as they compulsively closed in on the living.
‘And what?’ Andrews asked, glancing over his shoulder at Patrick.
‘What?’ Patrick replied, his attention snapping back Andrews. ‘Oh, yes, I was going to say, I hope you’re a good shot, because if the shit hits the fan, every bullet needs to count.’
As they turned the corner running after Liz, Imran, and Steve, Patrick looked back to see if he could still find the standing Dead woman somewhere in the crowd of corpses. But she must have finally been knocked to the ground, for there was no sign of her.
‘Patrick!’ called Liz, waiting by a wide set of clear double doors for the rest of the group to catch up with her.
‘Can we get through?’ he asked, running the last few metres to the set of doors where Andrews and Karen had already both dropped to one knee to cover the group.
‘Oh, we can get through alright,’ she said, gently giving one of the doors a slight push to show it was open, ‘but look…’
Looking through the grime streaked glass; Patrick could see the clear arched tunnel beyond, leading to a second set of doors and the ‘Tropical’ biome. The tunnel may have only been twenty or thirty metres long, but half way along, was the rusting crumpled wreck of a 4x4, where at some point, it had ploughed through the tunnel wall, leaving a huge gaping hole. This in itself wouldn’t have been so bad, with the tunnel being three metres wide, they could easily pass the wreckage, but the Dead that lined the outside of the tunnel wall, which were already starting to push past the rear of the vehicle, would definitely be a problem.
‘Crap!’ Patrick snapped, nervously looking back to the approaching throng of dead behind them. ‘Well, we’ll just have to keep going forward.’
‘Lesser of two evils?’ suggested Imran, watching a Dead man using the smashed bonnet of the 4x4 to pull himself upright.
‘Something like that, yeah,’ mumbled Patrick. ‘Right, if we keep to the far side of the tunnel wall, we should be able to get through, but as soon as those corpses catch sight of us, they’re going to go shit crazy to get in past that 4x4. There’ll be no time to hang about, just keep them at bay as we pass. I don’t want to lose anybody so…’
At that point, Karen and Andrews began to fire on the Dead that were dangerously close behind them.
‘Whatever we’re doing, we need to do it now!’ shouted Karen over Andrews’ shooting, pausing to take aim on a Dead man with only the tattered remains of blackened flesh and skin where his left arm should be.
‘On the count of three?’ said Patrick, looking from one face set with grim determination to the next.
‘Let’s just do this,’ said Phil, trying to comfort a screaming Charlie in his arms.
Patrick nodded, pushed open the door, and let Imran, Liz, and Steve, dart past him. Immediately stepping through the doorway, Imran let an arrow fly, taking out a Dead woman who had excitedly turned to face them. Running forward, Steve began to fire upon the twenty or so Dead that stood between them and the end of the tunnel. As the Dead began to fall under the hail of Steve’s bullets, and Imran’s arrows, Liz took out the few stragglers who managed to get too close.
‘Now!’ she shouted to the others behind her, once a path had been cleared into the tunnel.
Not waiting to be told twice, Patrick and Phil started to run, keeping close to the far side of the tunnel wall, and after only a few more desperately needed shots behind them, Andrews and Karen followed swiftly on their heels. As the group approached the crumpled 4x4 and the huge hole it had created, the Dead beyond the clear wall doubled their efforts to push past each other, and get to the living flesh that had suddenly presented itself in front of them.
‘Hurry!’ shouted Steve, firing at the Dead as they urgently pulled themselves past the wreck.
Buying the group some desperately needed time, Andrews and Karen joined Steve in his slaughter of the Dead, but with more and more of the creatures appearing along the other side of the wall all the time, they knew their efforts were but a drop on the ocean.
‘Fuck! That’s it!’ cried Karen, as her rifle clicked empty. ‘I’m out!’
‘Go!’ shouted Andrews, pushing the woman to follow the others who had just reached the far door.
Knowing she could do no more, Karen turned to flee, but caught movement in the corner of her eye.
‘Fuck! They’re coming!’ she yelled over the gunfire, seeing the Dead horde now flooding through the doorway behind them. ‘We’ve got to go! Steve! Andrews! We’ve got to go!’
‘Christ!’ said Andrews, seeing the Dead moving almost as one towards them.
‘Come on,’ he shouted, urgently grabbing Steve’s shoulder, ‘they’re coming!’
Desperate to give them the best chance of escape they could hope for, Steve fired into the Dead twice more, forever stilling the corpse of a teenage girl, and a man wearing what looked to be some sort of security guard’s uniform. Then, knowing he too was running low on ammo, turned, and ran.
‘Come on!’ shouted Patrick at the far doorway, holding it open for Steve after Andrews and Karen darted through.
‘I need to reload,’ panted Steve, fishing his only remaining magazine from his jacket pocket as he ran up to Patrick, ‘I’m, I’m almost out.’
‘No time,’ he replied, roughly pulling Steve through the door.
‘Can we barricade the door somehow?’ asked Karen, the panic beginning to creep into her voice, as she looked upon the Dead now only five metres from the clear double doors.
‘There’s no time,’ shouted Patrick, shoving Karen forward, ‘we’ve got to find a way out of here!’
Sprinting away from the entrance, Patrick, Steve, Karen, and Private Andrews ran to where Phil, Liz, and Imran, were waiting by the vine covered remains of an information booth.
‘Well?’ asked Patrick, looking at Liz as she and Imran began to tear at the vines to reveal a printed map beneath.
With her fingers frantically tracing the squiggly lines back and forth, Liz barely took in the wonders that had been built in the Tropical biome. The waterfall, the banana plantation, the canopy balloon, or the rainforest lookout, all were skipped over as she looked for the only thing she needed, a way out.
‘Wow!’ said Steve, taking the few seconds respite after he had reloaded, to look up and actually take in his surroundings. ‘This is fucking amazing.’
What had been recreated inside the tropical biome, was surely a testament to man’s previous dominance over Nature. Within the fifty metre high curved walls, man had built a slice of tropical rainforest, exact in every detail. It seemed everywhere he looked; Steve saw life going on just as it had done for millions of
years. Huge palms, ferns, and exotic wide leaved creepers exploded beneath the tree canopy high above them, while below, what little was left of the cobbled pathway was being reclaimed by encroaching vines.
‘Got it!’ exclaimed Liz, her finger stabbing at a point on the map. ‘There’s a fire exit, it’s not far, we should…’
With a crash, the doors behind them suddenly flew open, and the Dead began to pour through, their film covered eyes instantly fixing on the flesh now only a few metres ahead of them.
‘Which way?’ shouted Phil, as Steve, snapping from his awe, began to fire into the wave of Death flooding toward them.
‘This way!’ Liz cried, pointing to their left as she jumped away from the sign and started to run. ‘Come on!’
‘Steve,’ Karen yelled, tugging briefly on the back of his jacket, ‘there’s too many, we’ve got to go!’
Steve knew he was going through what little ammunition he had left at an alarming rate, and despite his efforts, he seemed to be barely making a dent in the shambling horde. Already, the green earthy scent of the rainforest was being overpowered by the cloying stench of rotting flesh, as the Dead clambered desperately over each other to get to the living flesh that was trying to elude them.
‘Come on!’ Karen repeated, pausing to look back as Steve fired into the skull of a Dead man that had broken away from the throng, and had managed to get within arm’s reach.
Knowing he could buy the rest of the group no more time, Steve kicked out at the snapping face of a Dead woman, turned, and ran.
Seeing that he was now following, Karen also spun on her heels and fled along the twisting path that Liz and the others had taken. As she turned a corner, she pushed aside the wide glossy leaves of fan palm, the movement setting into flight a dozen jewel coloured butterflies. Through the flutter of their iridescent wings, Karen saw that Patrick had paused to make sure they were still following. The relief she briefly saw as their eyes locked, suddenly evaporated as Patrick’s eyes snapped to a tree line to her left. Almost instinctively, Karen knew something was about to emerge from the greenery, and dived to her right. But her instincts had been a fraction of a second too slow, and even as she began to move, the Dead woman shambled from the shadows of the forest, her claw like hands latching onto Karen’s shoulder. With a scream, Karen and the Dead woman fell to the ground in a tangle of limbs.
Last Days With The Dead (Lanherne Chronicles Book 3) Page 29
