The undergrowth was denser here and harder to get through. As I looked for a way around, I spotted two more zombies trailing through the trees. Between them, the three zombies blocked my route forward. I could either backtrack, hide, or take them on. The lone zombie would be easy enough to handle, if I was careful. The other two were much bigger and were close enough together that it would be hard to pick them off one by one.
Deciding discretion was the better part of valor, I moved sideways, heading toward the female zombie. She was thin, probably a teenager, and moving slowly. Once I was closer, I could see that something had torn off half her left arm, and the ragged stump hung limply at her side. Her throat had a deep vertical cut in it. Black blood stained the front of her canvas jacket. A breeze cut through the trees, bringing with it the rancid stench of blood and rot.
My knife was out and in my hand before I realized it was there. The girl saw me and let out a moan. Air whistled through the slit in her throat, giving the sound a husky edge. Fresh blood bubbled from the wound.
I’d almost reached her when she stumbled. I twisted out of her way as she fell to the ground, dropped to my knees and slammed the knife into the back of her skull. It must have already been damaged because there was barely any resistance as the knife sank to its hilt. She fell still without making a sound.
I stood immediately, alert for signs that the girl hadn’t been alone. The other two zombies had seen me and were trying to head in my direction. The bramble-choked undergrowth was proving more than a match for them, and they were struggling to make any headway. Part of me, the part under the shadow’s influence, wanted to kill them, too. They were right there for the taking. They were trapped. I could take my time, savor the moment. I felt the world’s edges soften as the shadow made its presence felt. Black wisps of guilt drifted about the zombies’ heads like smoke.
Blocking out the shadow’s insistent voice, I picked out a route that would take me around the zombies. I moved quickly through the trees, staying well out of their reach. They muttered as I passed, their movements becoming more frenzied as they saw their prey escaping. One of them managed to break free of the brambles, but I was already too far away for him to catch me.
The gray band of the highway cut through the forest a hundred yards or so ahead of me. The clouds had grown thicker. The gloom made it hard to see if there were any zombies, but the road looked clear. Still, I hesitated when I reached the edge of the trees and checked up and down the hill.
I needed to cross over the road eventually, but ideally I’d be able to follow it south for a while. The going would be a lot quicker, and I’d be able to see any zombies well before they got their hands on me. I’d also be exposed. When it came to traveling in the open, Harwood’s paranoia was well placed.
I didn’t recognize the stretch of highway. I thought I could see the outline of a solitary zombie way off to the north, but otherwise, it was clear of the living dead.
Thunder rumbled again, much closer this time. As heavy spots of rain pattered the ground around me, I walked out onto the highway and headed south.
Chapter 20
Refuge
Call it a sixth sense or killer’s intuition or whatever you like, but I knew something was wrong as soon as I reached the cave. I just couldn’t put my finger on exactly what had changed.
The closer I got to the entrance, the faster my heart beat. A thin film of sweat formed across the palms of my hands. The wind seemed to pick up, too, and it brought waves of cold water with it. I could barely feel my face. Not that it mattered. All my attention was on the cave entrance.
I’d almost reached it when I heard a noise. It was quiet, just a soft scraping sound, but I recognized it as shuffling footsteps on rock.
I knew I should run or at least hide and wait out whoever was inside. But anger at the thought that someone had violated my sanctuary overwhelmed me. I ran into the cave. It was dark inside; none of the lanterns were lit. I charged straight into the arms of a zombie. We both went down in a tangle of limbs.
The zombie’s flesh was rancid and slick. As we hit the ground, I felt something soft give way, and a foul stench surrounded me. He grunted. Bony fingers gripped my shoulder.
Blind in the darkness, I pushed against him, trying to stand. His ribs gave way, and my hands plunged into the rotting cavity of his chest. I fell forward again, my face just inches from his snapping teeth. I twisted away as he tried to clamp down on my chin, and another wave of foul air wafted over me.
He tightened his grip on my shoulder and moaned again. I echoed the sound, grimacing in pain and fear as I fought to get enough leverage to pull myself free. My hand caught on his ribs, and splintered bone sliced across the back of it. He grabbed my shoulder with his other hand, his ragged fingernails digging into my jacket. Another of his ribs snapped. I yanked my hands free, dragging fragments of bone and lumps of rotting intestine along with them.
His fingers clamped around my throat and sank into my flesh. I brought my arm down on his wrist and knocked the zombie away. His fingers raked across my skin, and I cried out in pain. I brought my elbow down where I hoped his face was, and there was a wet crack as it sank into his skull.
The blow gave me enough time to get out my knife, but he was on me again before I could get ready to strike. He clawed at my face. I swung the knife, and it sliced across his cheek. He clutched my shoulder again, the fingers digging so deep I thought they might reach bone. This one was strong.
I slashed at his arm, slicing it open and loosening his grip. Then I drove the knife toward his face. I hit him, but the blade skidded sideways. I attacked again, aiming for what I hoped was the side of his head. The impact almost jarred it from my grip, but the blade cracked the zombie’s skull. I struck again, and it broke through, sinking into his brain.
The zombie screamed. It’s the only way I can describe it—he tipped his head back, opened his mouth, and let out a high-pitched, inhuman scream. He flicked his head back and forth as though he was trying to dislodge the knife, and I had to let go. He screamed again, the sound almost unbearably loud in the enclosed space. I scrambled away. He grabbed at me anyway, still halfheartedly trying to pursue his prey. His screams grew quieter and his movements less frenzied.
I stood, leaning against the wall, breathing hard. There was a crack of bone on rock. Then he let out one last moan and fell silent.
I tipped my head back. My heart was beating so fast and my breath was so tight, I felt as though I was about to pass out. The blood pounding in my ears was deafening. The cave was filled with the stench of decay, so strong I could taste it. The zombie must have been in there for hours, but how had he gotten there? Surely, the chances of him just wandering mindlessly in were slim at best—the entrance was far too small.
Panic gripped me. What if there were more? What if there was another way into the cave that I hadn’t found and the dead were swarming through it right now to devour me?
I pressed my hand against the wall and felt my way around until I reached the entrance. There was a lantern hanging just inside. I found it and switched it on, bathing the cave in white light.
The zombie was lying on the ground. My knife still protruded from the side of his skull. His face was slashed where I’d attacked him. Fresh blood and pus oozed from the wound.
He twitched. I lunged at the body and grabbed the knife, yanking it out, and then drove it down into the top of his head. I stood again and stared at the corpse lying there, mouth gaping, shark-like eyes staring blankly.
And then I noticed the bright-yellow climbing rope, stark in the gloom of the cave. One end was tied around the zombie’s right ankle; the other was attached to my cage.
Someone had brought the zombie here and left him as a trap.
Chapter 21
Violated
The entire cave was a mess. The cage had been pulled from the wall and smashed into a twisted mass of metal. My belongings had been strewn across the floor. Anything that could be broken had be
en.
Panic gripped my throat as firmly as the zombie had. The sensation was so strong I clutched at my neck, trying to pry the invisible fingers loose as I looked desperately for the wooden storage crate.
It was lying against a wall. The lid had been torn from its hinges and the contents dumped onto the floor. My hands shook as I dug through the scraps of metal and cloth. I threw them aside, fear gnawing at my stomach—the leather case was missing. My tools were missing.
I tipped over the crate, dumping the last few pieces of cloth and plastic bottles onto the ground. I dug through everything again, desperately hoping that I’d somehow missed my precious tool kit in my haste.
When that proved fruitless, I searched the rest of the cave. A lantern in my hand, I ran from corner to corner, hoping the case had simply been thrown aside and was waiting patiently for me in the shadows. I pulled apart the cage’s remains and dragged the zombie aside. I even checked the zombie himself, searching through the pockets of his jacket in the desperate hope that whoever had brought him here had simply hidden my kit.
Slowly, reality sank in.
Someone had been here, and they’d taken my scalpels.
My brain felt like it was going to burst out of my skull. I kicked at the zombie, and his ribs cracked. I kicked again then slammed the heel of my boot onto his sternum. Again and again, I kicked him until all that remained of his chest was a bloody pile of cloth and meat.
I grabbed my hair and pulled, screaming in frustration.
The air in the cave was suddenly cloying. It was too much to bear. I ran outside, grazing my face as I forced my way out of the cave and into the open. I stumbled and fell to my knees. Even here the air felt thick and heavy. I clutched my throat. I couldn’t breathe.
Laughter came from somewhere in the trees, and I froze. Whoever had stolen the case was still nearby. I could get it back.
“Come out!” I said, my voice shrill.
The laughter came again, and I grabbed a rock and hurled it into the forest. “Come out!”
Shadows moved through the trees, and a man stepped into the clearing. It was Ling.
He grinned as he walked toward me. He’d been the one laughing. Bailey and Lawson followed behind him, spreading out in a semicircle, trapping me. Ling was unarmed, but the others held baseball bats. They carried them casually like kids on their way to the park to play ball. They were smiling like kids, too, kids about to have the time of their lives.
“Where’s my case?” I screamed, flecks of spittle flying from my mouth.
Ling gave a derisive snort. “What case?”
My face burned as rage welled up inside me. I’d had that case for over twenty years. It was as much a part of me as my leg or my heart.
“The case you bastards took from my home!” I jabbed my finger at Ling as I spoke.
He shook his head and looked over at Lawson. “The zees won’t want this one… no brains!”
All three of them burst out laughing. The sound bounced around the trees, pressing in on me, boring into my skull.
Ling looked at me again, and when he spoke there was laughter in his voice. “We don’t have your case, little m—”
I charged at him.
A flicker of surprise flashed across his face, just for a moment, but he recovered before I got to him. My anger had made me reckless. He stepped sideways, grabbing my shoulders and using my own momentum to trip me over an outstretched leg. I sprawled across the ground and let out a shout of anger and frustration.
In seconds, I was back on my feet and running toward him again. This time, he didn’t avoid the attack. Instead, he grabbed one of my flailing arms and pulled, twisting sideways and sweeping my legs from beneath me. Again, my momentum carried me to the ground. The impact knocked the air from my lungs. He let go of my arm at the last moment, wrenching it as he did. Pain shot through my shoulder.
Laughter echoed around the clearing again.
The shadow twisted inside me, wrapping itself around the rage. I got to my feet. Something hard slammed into the back of my knee, and I went down again. I rolled over and raised my arms to protect my head as Bailey swung her bat at me. It hit me on the forearm just below my elbow. Fresh pain raced through my arm, and I lost the feeling in my hand. I screamed, my anger turned to agony.
Lawson kicked me, a solid blow at the base of my spine. I let out another cry. Bailey swung her bat again, this time hitting my stomach. I curled up into a ball and waited to die.
Again and again, the blows came, boots and bats united in their quest to break me.
I retreated inside myself.
I focused on the grass beneath my cheek, the smell of the earth.
The blood in my mouth was not mine.
The bruised and battered body wasn’t mine.
After a while, the blows became distant. I could feel them connecting, but the pain was muffled as though I were insulated by a dozen layers of padding, not a thin T-shirt and a hunting jacket. I felt like an observer, not the victim. I wondered if I’d already died and was departing the earthly realm.
And then they stopped.
The forest was silent apart from the heavy breathing of my attackers. I could feel Ling standing over me, poised for the killing blow. Before I could even think about moving, someone grabbed my leg. Even in my half-conscious state I knew what they were going to do. They’d twist it, snapping the ankle or maybe cut my Achilles—something to stop me getting away.
But they didn’t.
Ling shouted something, his words distant. Then whoever was holding my leg began dragging me away.
The pain returned with a vengeance, reawakened as I bounced and bumped across the ground. Every impact sent fresh waves of agony through the battered husk I called a body. I tried to find Ling, to beg him either to let me go or kill me, but the bouncing and the pain made it hard to focus. My head hit a rock, and the world blurred. Blood trickled into my eye.
“This’ll do.” It was Ling.
Whoever was dragging me let go of my leg. My foot hit something hard, sending a spear of pain up my leg. I lay back and let it flow through me—willing my body to pass out for this final part.
“He dead?” said a voice. It might have been Lawson.
Ling’s face appeared in front of me. He peered into my eyes, halitosis washing over me.
“Nah, he’s st—”
I lunged at him and sank my teeth into his nose. Blood filled my mouth. I flicked my head sideways, ripping a chunk of flesh away and spitting it onto the ground. Ling, his broken nose now ragged and torn, staggered back. Blood poured down his face. He screamed and clutched at the remains of his nose.
I staggered to my feet and ran. At least, I tried to run. It was more a wild, flailing stumble. Every step sent jagged pain rushing up my right leg. Every breath I took felt laced with glass. I careened into a tree and screamed as my arm took the brunt of the impact.
Behind me, the gang was laughing again.
“Run, little piggy! Squeak! Squeak!”
“We’re right behind you!”
I ducked right, toward a part of the forest where the trees were sparser. At least that way I wouldn’t break my own neck trying to escape. Although that might not be such a bad thing.
Ling screamed in fury. “No more games! Kill him!”
I caught sight of an open space through the trees and ran toward it. A few seconds later, I broke through the edge of the forest onto the ridge. I realized my mistake almost immediately, but it was too late. The gang stepped out of the trees behind me.
Ling smiled at me, but there was rage burning in his eyes. He’d stopped holding his nose, and his shirt and the lower half of his face were covered in blood.
I backed away, toward the ridge’s edge.
Lawson took a sudden step toward me. I started, shuffling backward a couple more steps, and he laughed. The dislike I’d seen earlier was full-on hatred now.
The three of them walked onto the ridge, fanning out to cut off what little
opportunity I had to escape. I glanced backward. I’d reached the cliff edge. I had nowhere to go.
Ling picked up a rock. He tossed it in his hand and walked toward me. I spat blood from my mouth, stood up straight. He stopped just in front of me. I could see the exposed flesh of his savaged nose. It must have been agony.
He stared at me for what seemed like an age. Then he raised his hand and gently threw the stone at my forehead. It bounced away and rattled across the ground.
Ling began to laugh—a great big roaring guffaw. He grabbed his belly as his shoulders shook and juddered. Blood sprayed from his nose. The rest of his gang joined him, their wild cackling echoing through the forest.
And then Ling slammed the palms of his hands into my chest and sent me backward over the cliff.
Chapter 22
Falling
I seemed to hang in the air for several minutes before I hit the slope, but it could only have been a few seconds. The base of my spine smashed into the rock first. I screamed as pain rocketed up my back. My head snapped backward and slammed into the cliff wall. My teeth clacked together. Blood filled my mouth.
Then my shoulder hit something—a scrubby tree, I think—and I tumbled over backward. I left the ground, hovering mid-flight for what felt like another couple of minutes before the brown rock of the cliff face rushed at my face.
I put my arms out in front of me just as I hit the ground. My hands skidded across the loose surface, ripping the skin from my palms. A thin tree, barely more than a branch really, slid past. I grabbed at it. My fingers slipped, then caught, then slipped again, but I’d managed to slow my descent slightly. Debris bounced up into my face. I hit a rocky outcrop. I was airborne once more. I landed on my shoulder this time and managed to tuck and roll. I tumbled down the slope, each impact sending piercing bolts of pain through my already injured body.
Serial Killer Z: Sanctuary Page 12
