BESIEGED (HUNGRY Series Book 2)

by Lawrence Herbert Tide

  Looking in the right mirror, Red and Johnny saw that the two men on the motorcycle had stopped near a group of standing armed men…

  And the latter were shooting at their van!

  Its rear window, protected by a grid, was crossed by bullets as broken glass sounds were heard.

  "Oh no!" shouted the young black man, giving a violent blow to the left while jamming on the gas pedal.

  They saw the world swing to the side while the shots continued and glass breaks were still heard.

  Johnny shouted, "Aaarrgh, the van rolls on its left wheels, brace yourselves!"

  ***

  Destiny

  "They know too much, shoot them down before they approach the outskirts of the Community!" cried Adams, continuing to point with a fat finger to the unbalanced van, his voice hard to hear because of the gunshots.

  "Don't worry, even if they approach it, instructions have been given to shooters on the ramparts," said one of the men, who stood near the Administrator and Vlad, still seated on the saddle of the motorbike. The other two men, near him, were firing, completely concentrated on the van, which was zigzagging away.

  "Look at them!" exclaimed, mockingly, one of the men, a fat bearded man with scanty red hair, who had just lowered his rifle. "They've lost control of their vehicle and are going to overturn in the mud. What a bunch of clowns!"

  The old Administrator gave him a bad look and then shouted at him, "Shut up and don't stop shooting, or they'll escape!"

  The man made a grimace and, shrugging, raised the rifle and aimed carefully. From where he was, he was able to shoot the van's tank, telling himself while smiling, There's going to be a helluva of a bonfire...

  He was snapped back and shot in the air, while with his gun he was knocked down. The same applied to his companion next to him who shouted, having fallen in the grass, feeling that he was being grasped.

  Then the man shouted, terrified, as he saw a crowd of zombies gathered around him, pressing him to the ground. He tried to grab the rifle but it had slipped away from his hands. As he felt the amount of hands with bony, sharp fingers lacerating his stomach, pain made him shuffle his head right and left. This gave him a glimpse of his bearded and bald fellow who was also struggling with numerous undead. They, too, had come out of the bushes behind them, and had caught him by surprise.

  He saw and heard his companion shouting as jaws opened around his head. He also heard the cracking sound as they crunched the bones of his skull, and greedily plunged their teeth into the bloody scalp.

  The man who had witnessed the end of his companion felt a bunch of hands pierce his exposed belly and solar plexus like so many knives cutting butter.

  He shouted when his heart and lungs were unceremoniously torn away, together with his intestines, in which the undead plunged their rotting teeth.

  "Let's go!" squeaked Adams, looking at the scene with horrified eyes.

  He stroked Vlad's back, who, with his head bent forward, seemed to be falling asleep.

  The henchman, startled, caught up, however, and started the bike.

  That's when a zombie put a hand on his shoulder.

  The man reacted by striking the creature's temple with the back of his fist.

  The creature coped with the blow with its head bent back and perched to one side, while the rider and his fat, panicked passenger behind, whizzed away.

  Its hand still resting on Vlad's shoulder, the undead was dragged with them before falling, carried away in an uncontrollable rotation.

  The zombie fell on the ground as more zombies arrived at its level, clumsily walking behind the Administrator and his henchman, who were heading toward the Community and its immense dome.

  "We're going to get home!" shouted the old man, clinging to Vlad with all his strength. He noticed that watchmen on the ramparts had noticed them, pointing index fingers toward them.

  Adams heaved a sigh of relief as he saw the two gigantic doors beginning to slowly open.

  Vlad stopped the motorcycle just in front of the opening, which was widening from second to second.

  Two men with guns slipped through the opening and approached them, while the old Administrator waved at them. They saw Adams and one of them said to his colleague, "The Boss's come back."

  As they reached their level, their attitude changed completely.

  They opened wide-eyed eyes, and Adams realized that they were looking at Vlad.

  The latter grabbed one of the men by the throat and pulled him forcefully toward himself. Under the violence of the action the man lost his rifle, which fell to the ground.

  The henchman brought the guard's face to his level and snatched his jugular with one big bite.

  "Close, quickly!" shouted the other armed man, who, shrinking back, fear on his face after having seen the scene, repassed quickly between the half-open gates.

  With his heart beating violently in his chest with fear, Adams stretched out his right leg to try to touch the ground, while he saw Vlad, from the back, literally plunging his face into the half-open throat of the look-out man he had just killed. Still sitting behind the henchman who kept the bike in balance, Adams wanted only one thing: To not draw attention to himself.

  With his chubby legs which were too short, the Administrator could only touch the floor with the tips of his beautiful white shoes.

  In desperation, he dropped to the side.

  Thus he fell into a puddle of mud. This made the color of his costume, once pristine white, change to a brownish-dirty one.

  A groan came out of what had replaced Vlad. The old man in the mud was startled by the sound, realizing that this new zombie had heard the sound of his fall. Pulling his saliva, he saw that the ex-henchman had stopped, looking in front of it. Several seconds passed, which seemed to last for centuries to the man lying on the ground.

  Suddenly the thing sitting on the motorcycle plunged again its jaws into its poor victim's neck, while the prone Administrator was looking the bloody scene with disgust.

  He became even tenser, when he saw what had been Vlad in the past stand up, while lifting from the ground what remained of his prey, as if it was a little doll.

  No longer held back, the motorcycle, carried away by its weight, began to fall on its right side and leaned towards the inside of the right thigh of the zombie, pressing it. Grumbling because of the weight of the two-wheeler, the Vlad-zombie spread its right leg and began to fall.

  The ex-hit man then fell to the ground on its side, with what was left of its slaughtered prey, the motorcycle falling brutally on Adams' chubby legs.

  The latter uttered a muffled cry from the shock, biting on his lips so as not to be noticed by the ex-Vlad, that he observed with burgeoning eyes, his heart pounding in his plump chest.

  The latter didn't react to the sound, to the great relief of the old man, who was sweating abundantly inside his now heavily tainted white suit.

  Still looking away from him, the new living dead was only trying to get out from under the heavy two-wheeled vehicle. While at the same time as it was finishing eating some bloody meat extracted from the poor guard's body, the thing was pushing back the heavy saddle on which it had been sitting. That way, slowly but surely, it was extracting itself from under the vehicle. It groaned as it struggled once more to get out.

  The living dead was finally able to stand up, its very slow motion while it was rising seeming to last centuries, for Adams, who was observing it. The Administrator noticed that the Vlad-zombie had stood up while lifting again the dead guard's corpse.

  The undead then stopped masticating and became motionless like a statue.

  It drew back its head, pulling its mouth from the dead man's throat with another piece of bleeding meat. The poor guy, with his eyes wide opened as if he was still surprised, was manipulated like a toy while being sustained by the creature's tight grip.

  Adams was at the same time horrified and impressed by the enormous gaping wound left in the poor lad's throat. A bloody gulf more t
han a single wound, while the dead man's head leaned back, drawn back by its own weight. It was as if the neck was going to stretch even more, and the head was going to fall off.

  Suddenly, without warning, the zombie violently threw the body away, as if it were an empty package of cigarettes.

  The inanimate and seemingly thwarted body fell on its back, and due to the shock the head, which no longer held to the body except by a piece of skin, detached itself, and went on rolling.

  The former thug turned around and looked behind, toward the back of the motorcycle.

  It saw nothing other than the bike which had fallen on its side, its big saddle partly soiled by dust.

  The creature, spreading its right leg even more, finally disengaged it completely from the motorcycle, and then walked awkwardly towards the back of the motorcycle.

  Adams, hiding behind the other side of the big bike, did not move a bit, lying closely against the collapsed two-wheel vehicle.

  He heard the ex-Vlad make a grunting noise, as it approached the back of the two-wheeler.

  As the creature slowly went around, Adams crawled, taking advantage of his small size to continue to be well hidden by the mass of the big motorcycle, while he silently turned around it.

  This little deadly game lasted for a moment, the old man continuing to crawl in the dust, feeling more and more panicked.

  Finally, the Vlad-zombie stopped.

  It raised its head, as it slowly turned to the right, then to the left.

  Still coiled behind the bike, trembling with fear, Joshua Adams ventured briefly to glance over the edge of the saddle.

  He found Vlad's face unrecognizable.

  The creature's features had become gray, and its empty eyes, which were deep red, had a dead look. It had its lips reddened with the blood of the victim, blood that had flowed over its bare chest. The visible veins of its athletic body had assumed a somber color. Dark veins were also visible on its face.

  Suddenly the gruesome head turned in the direction of Adams.

  The thing that had stood up, a little shaky, didn't see him.

  Adams had squatted in time.

  It was then that the old man heard a snort.

  Looking at the ex-Vlad, Adams understood that the noise had come from him.

  It was the nostrils of the zombie, which, alternatively, opened and closed.

  Adams swallowed his saliva and shivered.

  He knew that the undead had an excellent sense of smell, and that this one had felt his presence... The old administrator was all at once frightened and demoralized. Would he have to drag around the bike, like he had done, for a long time?

  Vlad, or at least what was left of him, still looked at the motorcycle on the ground behind which Adams literally buried himself in the mud, on which it was lying.

  Then the creature turned its head slightly, towards the surrounding woods.

  A little noise of rustled leaves made both the old Administrator and the undead become tense.

  The latter looked in the direction of the woods whence the noise had come. A hind that had been eating grass was hiding behind a bush, but it was too late for it.

  The animal had been seen. Its fate is sealed, Adams said to himself, still hidden, as he contemplated the scene, relieved to not be the hunted one.

  It was with relief that he actually saw the ex-Vlad moving towards the bush, with heavy but firm steps. The old man knew that this new undead, like all the others, would follow the deer's scent. This day and night, for hours, days, weeks, if necessary, until, finally, exhausted, the wild animal would fall on the ground, and be eaten alive...

  He knew very well that the zombies were relentless: whereas the "normal" human being was a slow runner compared to many other animals, some of them being the cheetah and the ostrich, they had a great gift: they were much more gifted than others at marathon-type jogging.

  No animal was able to outpace a sufficiently young and trained human being runner.

  And the living dead, who normally only walked, despite being slower, had a hundredfold the endurance capacity as humans.

  The doe, never finding rest, never finding tranquility, leaving on its way its scent that the undead would follow, it would one day be caught, and then devoured...

  Its fate was sealed.

  While the Vlad-zombie had disappeared among the trees, farther behind the bush, Adams, having struggled from under the motorcycle and, his legs aching because of the weight of the motorcycle they had to support, walked awkwardly towards the double door. Hoping that his slow walk wouldn't make the guards confuse him with one of the zombies, he approached cautiously the Community's doors, trying uselessly to see a guard on the ramparts.

  Arriving in front of one the two cyclopean doors, he began to dab it with his fists.

  "Open the gates, I'm Adams!" exclaimed, not too loudly, the old man, hopeful, sweat running down one of his cheeks, tormented by the fear.

  He seemed to hear some verbal exchanges behind the door, exchanges which came to an end.

  Seconds passed by, seeming like a long enough time to the old man. As he was impatiently waiting, doubts and nagging worries began to invade his mind. Have they decided to get rid of me, to leave me out? Has he decided to get rid of me? But… I was so useful to him…

  The time was passing ever more slowly now.

  The old Administrator turned red with anger and began to shout with all his might, "Open these damned doors to me, or it's going to cost plenty to some!"

  A few more seconds elapsed, during which he had the impression of hearing a conversation coming from the other side of the huge doors and walls. He couldn't understand what was said, but from this distance, he could estimate that there was an edgy conversation.

  Suddenly a click was heard and, reassured, Adams saw the cyclopean gates begin to move apart.

  He breathed in relief, beginning to catch a glimpse of what was happening inside through an expanding gap between the opening doors.

  The old man distinguished an eye watching him through the widening opening.

  It was a severe look, which was analyzing him from head to toe. After all, he just followed the normal procedure, in order to be sure to not let enter any newly transformed zombie inside the Community.

  Adams made an effort to not shout angrily, and just showed his most beautiful smile, saying to himself inwardly, You, you had better to let me in, otherwise I'll make you regret it!

  While Adams suddenly found a certain assurance, he saw with surprise the eye open wide… and perceived fear in it!

  "Quick, close those damned doors!" someone shouted from the other side of the door.

  "Wh... What?" murmured the old man, astonished, as he saw the opening movement of the two giant doors stop, emitting a rustling noise of metal.

  Then it was with horror that he saw the doors closing, and the eye which was watching him disappear from his sight when the gap was reduced.

  "Nooooooo!" Adams screamed, and he started knocking the closed gates with his fists, "Open, I am Joshua Adams, your Admin..."

  He fell silent and stopped, his closed little fists still leaning against the metal surface of one of the two doors, which had now completely closed and was again quiet.

  He heard, behind him, a groan, almost one which could come out from a beast.

  Adams swallowed his saliva and, slowly, turned around, his legs unsteady.

  Vlad - or rather what had been him - stood behind him, contemplating him with avidity.

  The creature opened a huge, exaggerated, distorted jaw; its blood-stained teeth were mixed with saliva, and the thing uttered a roar.

  "Vlad!" cried Adams, in reply.

  His ex-hit-man replied with a roar of fury, its breath fetid, smelling a mixture of flesh and blood, as the old administrator, wide-eyed, was overwhelmed.

  Trembling, the old man said, with a discreet voice, "Vlad, wake up... Let's go in together, there's a cure..."

  The zombie's hand grabbed the Adminis
trator's beautiful white and silver tie and began to lift the fat little man.

  "Vlad, put me down, for God’s sake!" cried Adams with all his might, his legs swinging over the ground, his voice reaching the treble, so great was his fear. Not more listening to him in the least, the ex-Vlad continued to lift him.

  Adams was now face to face with the zombie's chest covered with the blood of the guard; the brownish dots emitted a smell of putrefaction and of decay.

  The old man then panicked and his face became red, as he was goggling at the zombie.

  Adams was literally being slowly hanged, his soiled tie's good quality fabric supporting his weight. He started to choke, trying in vain to loosen his tie with his fat fingers, while kicking now the abdomen of the monster. The old administrator was seeing his end coming in the form of the blood-stained, nightmarish, distorted mouth of his ex-damned soul.

  "Vlaaaaad!" Joshua cried, using a stifled voice, as their glances crossed, and he was horrified by the blood-tainted eyes of the thing.

  ***

  Sacrifice

  Eyes shut, Red was completely motionless, lying on the ground at the feet of Johnny, who watched anxiously, not knowing whether to be more worried about her, or because of the mass of creatures descending toward them.

  "Red!" cried the young black man, desperate. "Wake up, come on!"

  The young red-haired girl turned her head slightly, coming out of her torpor. Her green eyes opened softly, dull, as if looking through the fog. Then she closed them again.

  "No, stay with me!"

  He squatted beside her and grabbed one of her arms.

  A clamor was heard and then he saw hundreds of undead joining them. They came toward them, dragging their feet, slowly but surely approaching.

  His hair standing up, Johnny kept Red’s arm in his hands, looking with a morbid fascination at the death approaching them during every second that passed by.

  "What are you doing?" thundered a voice which startled Johnny.

  Looking up he saw his father coming out of the van. The young man was surprised to see that he was carrying Hiroto under his arm, like a vulgar small package.