Serial Killer Z: Sanctuary

by Philip Harris

  Even if I hadn’t been able to see the zombie, I’d have smelled him. A musty tang, laced with blood and the stench of curdled milk, hung like a wall in the air a couple of feet away from him. My throat clenched as I hit it, and I had to fight down the urge to cough.

  The zombie moved. It was subtle, just a slight turn of his head toward me, but it was there. I lifted the knife away from my body and pointed it at the zombie. He moved again. This time, he turned completely in my direction. His feet shuffled across the rock. He groaned.

  Again, I had to resist the urge to attack. I was sure I could kill this one zombie, even in the darkness, but who knew how many others I’d bring down on top of me in the process?

  The zombie let out another moan, softer this time. I waited for a slow count of sixteen before I took another step. The ground was noticeably rougher in this part of the tunnel. I had to raise my feet more and be more careful as I put them down. Each time I did so, I was convinced debris would crunch beneath my feet or I’d stumble on a loose chunk of rock, but I didn’t. Slowly, carefully, I moved past the zombie.

  I didn’t look behind me this time. If the zombie came after me, I’d hear him. Instead, I focused on the path ahead. I fell into a steady rhythm. Step by step, I made my way through the darkness. There were more boulders, more outcrops in the wall, but if there were other zombies, I passed them without noticing.

  Slowly but surely, the light that marked my route to safety grew clearer. And with it came the sound of the zombies. They’d calmed down since being disturbed by the rope, but every now and again, one would utter a low-pitched moan or shuffle their feet. It was impossible to tell how many there were. I silently berated myself for not thinking to count them when I was up top—although four would be more than enough to stop me from reaching the rope.

  The air inside the tunnel had grown dense and cloying. That combined with my attempt to keep my breaths shallow and quiet was starting to make me dizzy. A wave of light-headedness rolled over me. My foot caught a chunk of rock, and it skipped noisily across the ground. The sound echoed through the tunnel. A low-pitched groan answered back from in front of me, frighteningly close.

  I tensed and raised my knife. Shuffling footsteps drifted through the darkness. I couldn’t see the zombie, but maybe if I was lucky, he’d walk straight into the knife. I held my breath as I stood there, peering into the black, waiting for decaying fingers to wrap around my throat.

  A shadow loomed up out of the darkness to my right. I almost slashed with the knife but just about managed to hold back. The zombie was moving past me.

  I twisted my shoulders and leaned back to give him a few inches of extra space. He was close enough that I could make out his face, the tattered flesh hanging from a shattered shoulder bone.

  The zombie was almost past when he caught his foot on mine. He moaned again and stumbled forward. Out of reflex, I pulled my foot away. The sole of my boot scraped across the ground, but the noise was drowned out by the zombie’s rattling groan.

  I waited until the zombie’s outline merged into the darkness before I started moving again. The droning of the creatures ahead of me had grown stronger. The noise didn’t tell me anything I didn’t already know, but in a way, it was a welcome alternative to the oppressive silence.

  My foot touched something. I had a second to dismiss it as a branch or tree root, and then a hand clamped around my ankle. I yanked my leg. The hand was locked tight, and the zombie came with me. He let out a high-pitched, disjointed cry that seemed almost excited. I drove my free foot at where I hoped his head would be. It connected with something hard, and there was a crack. Then a mouth clamped around my calf, and I screamed.

  Chapter 8

  Rope

  My leg gave way, and I pitched backward, screaming. As I fell, I swung the torch. It caught the zombie in the side of the head. There was a dull crack, and he released his grip on me.

  I landed on my elbows, and sharp pain zigzagged up my arm. The zombie’s groans filled the air as I scrambled backward, flailing with the torch. My back hit the cave wall. I jabbed the torch at where I thought the zombie would be, but there was nothing there.

  A hand gripped my calf. I could just about make out the zombie’s head. With visions of the ragged wound he’d torn in my leg flashing through my mind, I lunged at him and drove my knife into his skull. The zombie bucked and twisted, and I almost dropped the knife before I could pull it free. Pushing the convulsing zombie off me, I stood. His movements slowed then stopped.

  A chorus of moans rose up from my left. Shadows lumbered toward me, barely visible in the blackness. My leg ached, and when I put my weight on it, a sharp pain shot through my calf. A zombie let out a low, wheezing breath from right beside me. By reflex, I swung the knife. I caught the side of his face and sliced through his cheek. I jabbed the knife blindly in his direction. It slid through empty air.

  A zombie—maybe the one I’d cut, maybe another one—grabbed me. Fingers grasped my shoulder. Pain lanced down my arm, and I screamed again. Fighting to stay on my feet, I swung the torch. There was a grunt. The zombie’s grip loosened enough for me to pull myself free. I jabbed with the knife, caught the edge of something solid, then jabbed again. The blade sank into flesh, and the zombie let out a jagged croak.

  Movement caught my eye, another shadow off to my right. I swept the knife in that direction, but it sailed through open air. I could sense the zombies, and smell them, but they were barely visible. If I stayed where I was, it would only be a matter of time before my luck ran out. My only chance was to make a break for it.

  There seemed no point in trying to outwit the zombies. If they could even see me, I doubted they’d fall for a feint. Instead, I ran.

  I collided with a zombie almost immediately. My right shoulder hit him, and he grunted. I slashed the knife in his general direction. It sliced through cloth but nothing else.

  I swept the torch from side to side as I ran in some post-apocalyptic parody of a blind person’s cane. It caught another zombie coming at me from my left, and I dodged around it. This time, I didn’t bother trying to injure him—I was just focused on the patch of light. I could see the rope clearly now, a literal lifeline hanging in a cylinder of heavenly light.

  The thought that Ling and Co. might inflict some sort of time limit on me sprang into my mind. Lawson hadn’t warned me, but he hadn’t relit my torch either. Visions of the rope disappearing back up into the sky flashed through my mind. I pushed harder.

  And collided with a boulder. It caught me on the hip, and the impact knocked me off balance. I dropped the torch as I clutched at my leg. Numbness spread through my thigh. I struggled to stay upright, stay moving toward the light.

  Some base instinct made me raise the knife. A moment later I ran into another zombie. The light was better now, enough for me to see the blade sink into his throat. I twisted and pulled, shredding his neck. I spun sideways in an awkward pirouette to avoid him as he fell forward. He hit the ground with a dull slap.

  Still hobbling, I stumbled toward the rope. Two more zombies stood between me and salvation, and there was finally enough light to see them. The nearest was a man that looked even frailer than the woman who’d come at me outside. He was naked, too, his body so emaciated I could clearly see the outline of his ribs and pelvis. A second zombie stood just behind him, like backup.

  The zombies behind me hadn’t given up, and I thought I saw the shadow of another up ahead, just beyond the circle of light and the rope. So, I charged toward the naked zombie.

  He raised his arms as I reached him, but the movements were ponderously slow. Even with my injured leg, I easily ducked beneath them and drove the knife up through his jaw and into his skull. The blade sank easily into the flesh. There was no blood, no fluids of any kind. He simply collapsed to the ground as I pulled the knife free again.

  As the emaciated zombie fell, his backup and the last obstacle between me and the rope reared up in front of me. She looked fresher than the oth
ers, and she moved quicker. She lunged at my face, her mouth drawn open, revealing blackened teeth and a thick purple tongue. I forced the knife into her chest. Bone cracked, and I leaned into her. The blow pushed her back. I swung my elbow into the side of her head. Her skull was like a solid rock, and the impact sent sharp pain racing up my arm but had little effect on her.

  I pulled the knife free and took a step back to give myself a little breathing room. She came at me again. I responded with an attack of my own, and the knife’s tip caught her just beside her eye. It met resistance for a moment, then there was a sharp pop, and the blade sank into her skull. I pulled the handle toward me like a lever then twisted it free. The zombie’s black eyes rolled up, and she fell back, her head cracking hard against the rock wall.

  Another zombie came out of the gloom. This one was a man with thick folds of skin sagging around his throat. He was still a few feet away when my hands closed around the rope. The knife made it hard to get a grip, and I had to waste a few precious seconds tucking it into my belt. I jumped, grabbing hold of the rope as far up as I could, and climbed.

  The rope was thick and old. It reminded me of a school climbing rope and brought to mind humiliating memories of me in school trying and failing to climb the ropes hanging from the gym ceiling. I was older now, probably lighter and definitely stronger, but still my arms quickly started aching as I pulled myself up toward the light.

  “Almost there,” called a voice from somewhere above me.

  I lost my grip for a fraction of a second and slipped slightly. Something bumped against my foot. I kicked out, my boot connecting with soft flesh.

  “Twenty bucks says he doesn’t make it.” It was Lawson from somewhere above me. There was vicious optimism in his voice.

  Anger flared deep inside my gut, stoking the shadow’s fires. I hooked my leg around the rope and pulled, grunting as I dragged myself steadily upward. The skin was gradually being torn from my hands. Smears of blood and skin marked my progress up the rope.

  Hungry moans drifted up from below. I couldn’t help but look down. Four zombies stared back at me, including the emaciated woman. Her skull was cracked and broken and leaking dark fluid. They clawed fruitlessly at the air. I was too high up for them to reach me, but if I slipped, and if the fall didn’t kill me, they quickly would.

  My arms shook from the effort of supporting my weight. The cave’s roof was still a good seven or eight feet away. I gritted my teeth and pulled. My calf spasmed, cramps shooting through it and reminding me I’d been bitten. Faces peered down at me. A patch of blue sky had opened up, and the sunlight formed a halo around their heads. Angels indeed.

  Four more feet, and I’d be out. I counted down the distance out loud, focusing on the cold, hard simplicity of the words instead of the weakness spreading through my limbs.

  “Four.”

  “Three.”

  “Two.”

  “One.”

  I screamed and lunged for the lip of the opening. Hands grabbed my arms, and Green dragged me back onto solid ground.

  I lay on my back, arms and legs shuddering, nerves jangling, adrenaline pulsing through my system, and stared up at the patch of blue sky. Against all odds, I’d survived.

  “Shit! He’s been bit.”

  The others backed away. I heard the click of a gun.

  I held up a hand. “Wait!”

  I reached down and grabbed my calf. It was slick with black blood and drool, but when I pressed my fingers into it I felt nothing more than the dull ache of a bruise. I scraped away the gunk. A half-black tooth had caught in my jeans. I flinched as I flicked it away.

  “Look, it didn’t get through my jeans,” I said, a hint of desperate relief creeping into my voice. “I’m okay. I’m okay.” I let out a deep breath.

  Ling and Green stared down at me with suspicion in their eyes.

  “Trust me,” I said, “if I’d been bitten, I’d want you to kill me.”

  It was an easy enough lie. Believable. Normal.

  Ling and I looked at each other. If he decided I wasn’t worth the trouble, there wasn’t going to be anything I could do. I’d have fought my way out of the nest for nothing.

  Ling gave the barest of nods and reached out to me. I grabbed his forearm, and he helped me up.

  “Well done,” he said. His voice was calm and almost sounded impressed, but I doubted it was anything other than a show. “I guess you’re part of the team now.”

  Team. He made it sound like we were on some sort of corporate retreat. I nodded and smiled as though it was a good thing.

  Lawson stood just behind Ling. Hatred burned in his eyes.

  “So,” I said, “what now?”

  “Come on,” Ling said, “I’ll show you.”

  Chapter 9

  Blood on the Road

  The adrenaline that had fueled my rope climb wore off as we trailed through the forest, leaving behind an all-pervasive weakness. I briefly considered breaking off into the trees and running, but I dismissed it just as quickly. My legs were too tired, and although I had my knife, I was otherwise unarmed. I didn’t even have any water. Green carried it in his backpack and passed it out only at strictly controlled breaks.

  In any case, they were watching me too closely. I might be one of the gang now, but the others kept a safe distance from me and never quite relaxed enough for me to think I could take them by surprise. So, I followed Ling and Bailey as we wound our way through the forest to a two-lane road. The pavement looked new—it must have been laid just before the outbreak. Maybe even during the first couple of weeks when the threat was still considered no more significant than SARS.

  When we reached the road, Green swung his gun onto his shoulder and headed right.

  Bailey watched him for a full thirty seconds before calling out, “Hey, dumbass!”

  He waved back at us. “I’ve gotta drain the snake.”

  Lawson shook his head as Green picked his way through the undergrowth and disappeared behind a tree. When he saw me watching him, his smile dropped away. Ignoring every instinct in my body, I turned, putting my back to him. I walked up the road to where Ling and Bailey were standing, checking a map. Lawson stayed where he was, watching our rear.

  “There’s a construction site about a mile up the road,” Ling said. “They were building some sort of resort for rich people. Sunrise Pines. It’s a rehab center or something. It’s mostly open frames and foundation work, but there’s some storage units and a trailer.”

  “So, why camp out in the forest?”

  Ling tossed a glance at Lawson as though he was making sure he was out of earshot. “Zees. Lots of them.”

  Bailey regarded Ling intently. “Lawson’s right. It’s too dangerous.”

  The anger that seemed to constantly circle just beneath the surface of Ling’s emotions flashed across his face for a moment. But then it was gone.

  He gave a slight nod. “We’ll just check it out. If there’s too many of them, we’ll find somewhere else.” He looked out across the forest at the thunderhead forming in the distance. “We don’t have long, though. The weather can turn quickly out here.”

  Branches snapped as Green reappeared out of the trees.

  “Feeling better?” Lawson said.

  “Much, thank you.”

  “Good, ’cause your fly is undone.”

  Green reached instinctively and looked down. A grin broke out on his face as he zipped his jeans back up. Bailey rolled her eyes.

  Behind Green, a zombie lumbered out of the forest. He was wearing a bright-yellow poncho, stark in the shadows despite the blood spattered across it. How we hadn’t seen him, I don’t know.

  Lawson let out a yell and raised his gun, but Green was in his line of fire. The zombie was quick. He was almost running, and despite the uneven ground, he didn’t stumble or fall, just made a beeline directly at Green.

  Green fumbled with his gun. The strap caught on his elbow, but he managed to get it up in time and get off a shot.
The bullet tore through the zombie’s shoulder. More blood spattered the poncho.

  Poncho Zombie collided with Green, and they both went down. Two more shots rang out, and the zombie’s body bucked.

  Lawson had his knife out. He covered the distance to Green in a matter of seconds. He grabbed the zombie’s long brown hair and yanked his head back before ramming the blade into his exposed neck.

  Green kicked and sputtered as black gore spattered his face. He pushed the zombie off him and rolled away. Lawson sliced the knife back and forth until the zombie’s head was almost completely removed, but a shout from Ling stopped him from finishing the job.

  Three more zombies, these less conspicuously dressed than the first, came out of the forest. They moved quickly, and their clothes—military fatigues and combat jackets—created the impression they were a crack military strike team moving to take out a target.

  They charged at Lawson and Green.

  Lawson switched to his gun. He got it up and aimed before the nearest zombie reached him. He fired twice, and the back of the zombie’s head exploded, and she fell to the ground.

  Green wasn’t so lucky.

  The two remaining zombies reached him before he could get a shot off. They fell on him, dragging him to the ground. He pulled the trigger on his rifle, and bullets sprayed randomly into the sky. The zombies tore at his face and throat. His arm fell limply to the ground. The gun fell silent.

  More shots filled the air. They came from Ling, and he was firing at more zombies. A group of them was advancing down the road toward us. They were slower than the ones in military gear, but there were more of them—seven at least—with still more appearing in the forest behind them.

  “It’s a herd!” Bailey yelled.

  “Everyone, fall back,” Ling said.

  Gunfire crackled around as Lawson backed toward Ling while he and Bailey provided cover. Instinctively, I started moving toward them, too.