The Demon Dead (Book 2): Troubled Waters

by Arthur M Wyatt

  “Help me!” he said weakly and collapsed at her feet.

  “Go home now!” the man behind the counter said urgently. “And stay inside.”

  She ran for the door and out into the street. She turned to run back to her apartment but was tackled hard to the ground. She scraped her head on the pavement leaving road rash on her forehead.

  She staggered to her feet only to be grabbed and pulled down again. She looked into the cold dead eyes of her attacker. Now she understood.

  The zombie had her arm and pulled it towards its mouth. She felt teeth sinking into her flesh. She jerked her arm away from the grip of the monster. Looking down she saw a huge chunk of flesh missing from her forearm. She cried out in pain.

  Kicking as hard as she could she knocked the thing back causing it to fall over backwards.

  The man from the cafe rushed up and hit the walking corpse over the head with a crow bar smashing its skull and killing it instantly. The zombie fell to the ground.

  “Run!” he screamed. “Run!”

  Crying, Lydia ran as fast as she could back to the apartment building and to her room where she locked the door. She washed the wound and wrapped it. The pain was excruciating. She curled up in the corner of the room and cried herself to sleep.

  Hours later she woke sweating profusely. Blood ran from her ears and nose. Her head throbbed. She staggered to the sink and tried to drink some water. It was instantly rejected by her stomach and regurgitated. The room started to spin. The vertigo was so bad she could barely stand.

  She stumbled back to the blanket in the corner and collapsed. Her breathing was labored. She thought of the family and home she would never see again.

  Ten minutes later there was a knock at her door.

  “Is anybody in there?” Mike, one of the armed security guards shouted.

  There was no answer.

  “Break it down,” Jane, another security guard said.

  Mike rammed the door with his shoulder two times before it gave way. They entered the room guns drawn. Mike saw a body on the floor.

  “There in the corner,” he said.

  He knelt down beside her and felt her pulse. “Nothing,” he said. “She’s still warm but she’s dead.”

  “Leave her,” Jane said. “We’ve got to get out of here.”

  “Ok. Lets head for the battery and set up shop there.” Mike said. “There’s no use trying to get out of the city. The roads are blocked.”

  “Ok,” Jane said. “We need to make a stop on the way.”

  “Where,” Mike asked.

  “You remember old man Turner on Kings Street?” Jane said.

  “Yeah,” Mike said. “The Christmas party last year.”

  “He showed us his gun collection,” Jane said. “I want those ARs...”

  “Now you’re talking,” Mike said. “These pistols won’t do us much good if we run into a lot of those zombie things.”

  They left the room and headed for Kings Street.

  Thirty minutes later, Lydia’s body began to move. Finally it rose to a sitting position, looked around the room, got to its feet and stumbled out into the hallway.

  After several hours of wandering, Lydia’s zombie managed to stumble into the main entrance and walked through the broken glass doors and out into the street.

  A pack of the dead were passing as she emerged. She fell in line and shuffled along with them. Unthinking, acting on instinct alone she followed them blindly wherever they went for the next five days.

  Her zombie mind was incapable of complex thought. Consumed only with feeding. She reacted without thinking. Her memory lasting only minutes.

  She followed the pack taking part in the hunt, sometimes the kill, and feasting whenever she could. At times just the act of killing would satisfied the hunger. Without swallowing a single bite of flesh she would back off and let the others dine. And at other times she would fight furiously for her share of the kill.

  Sometimes the hunger could not be satisfied. She would gorge herself only to regurgitate the flesh and feel the ravenous hunger return immediately.

  For days they walked. Lydia’s zombie focusing on the walking corpse in front of her. Waiting for the alarm to be sounded if prey was spotted.

  On the fifth day she moved slowly on the outer edge of the pack. As they neared the corner of Church and Queens Street, the mob shifted to the right knocking Lydia’s zombie into the open door of a green two story building on the corner. She turned to try and rejoin the pack but instead bumped the door causing it to slam shut.

  At first Lydia’s zombie beat at the door weakly trying to get out but soon, as the sound of the pack receded into the distance, it could not remember them or how she came to be trapped inside the building.

  She passed the next forty-eight hours standing in the corner of a hallway. Her zombie mind unable to solve the problem of finding her way out. Each second, each minute, each hour no different from the last. She had no sense of time at all. In her mind the forty-eight hours were mere seconds.

  One morning a breeze wafted in from the next room through a partially broken window facing the Street. She sniffed hard sampling the air. The breeze picked up. Her eyes widened as the scent of living flesh met her undead nostrils. She raised her nose and breathed in deeply. She could sense the living were close. Her hunger awakened, she was at full attention now.

  Voices floated in through the broken window in the next room. Lydia’s zombie shuffled toward the sound. She stopped near the door to sample the air again. The smell of warm flesh and blood overwhelming her senses. The ravenous hunger stabbed at her gut.

  She tried several times to enter the room from which the scent came. Each time she bumped into the door jam only to be thrown back into the hallway. Finally after several minutes she gained entrance.

  Shuffling to the window, she positioned herself a few feet away. Broken glass cut into her bare cold dead feet. She felt no pain. Thick dark blood oozed from the wounds.

  The small group of survivors were now visible through the window. Rage overtook her mindless brain. Instinctively her teeth snapped together. Her instinct to kill kicking in. She sprung into action and lunged at the survivors on the other side. The window frame broke, shattering the remaining glass and sending it flying out onto the survivors and the sidewalk. Unable to advance she clawed and groped at the air as she growled through clenched teeth.

  So close. She could almost taste the flesh. Her mouth watering with bloody drool. She was so focused on the closest survivor, she didn’t notice as one of them stepped closer and raised his weapon. Shots rang out. Bullets tore into her chest causing her to shake violently. She felt no danger or sense of self preservation. Her focus on killing and feeding only.

  With the impact of each round she became more and more angry. Barking at them like a ravenous hyena. Two rounds found their mark in the center of her forehead. Blood and brains spewed from the back of her skull as the slugs exited. She collapsed. Half of her body hung out of the window. A pool of blood forming underneath her head.

  6

  Hells Bells

  -------------------------------------------悪魔死--------------------------Derek cautiously approached the corpse. Blood ran down the zombie’s arm and dripped to the sidewalk. He stuck the barrel of his rifle under the zombie’s chin and lifted its head. They examined her face closely.

  “She was just a young girl,” Amy said sadly. “Probably a teenager.”

  Derek shoved the zombie’s body back into the room. It fell to the floor with a thud. Careful not to step in the puddle of thick blood he closed the window’s shutters.

  “Nice shooting Rambo...” he said turning to John.

  John dropped the empty clip and inserted a full one. “Nine shots one kill...” he said smiling.

  “Fire discipline there brother...” Derek said.

  “Right...”

  Screams echoed through the street lasting for thirty seconds and trailing off. They couldn’t tell from w
hich direction the screams came. The sound bounced off the surrounding buildings and seem to come from all directions.

  “Demons?” Shanna asked.

  “Yep” John said.

  A church bell rang in the distance.

  The group looked around nervously. The sound of the bell adding to the eerie, surreal atmosphere. Every time it rang Amy felt as if the air was being sucked out of her lungs. She gasped. It rang several more times and stopped.

  “What is that?” Shanna asked.

  “Hells bells...” Derek commented.

  “I think it’s coming from Saint Michaels,” John said.

  Jimmy raised his arm to point. “Look,” he said retreating behind Amy again.

  “Oh, my, God...” Amy said.

  “Shit!” Derek said. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  A large group of the dead were coming around the corner at Chalmers Street and heading directly for them.

  “So how do we handle that many stiffs at once?” Shanna asked.

  Amy shrugged her shoulders in a I don’t know kind of way.

  The dead continued to come at them as more turned the corner. Jimmy stood behind Amy counting quietly. He counted thirty five before giving up.

  The sound of the growling hoard grew. Teeth could be heard snapping together.

  “If we don’t get moving quick,” Derek said, “these zombies, stiffs or whatever you want to call them are gonna be all over us.”

  A lone figure emerged from the center of the group, stepped ahead of the others and stopped.

  “Uh oh...” Jimmy said pointing.

  “And the screaming demon shows itself...” Derek said.

  “Get your weapon down range,” John said gesturing to Derek while reaching in his bag for the binoculars.

  Instinctively Amy, Shanna and Jimmy backed up. Shanna’s eyes darted around looking for an escape route.

  Derek walked over to the street sign at the corner, leaned against it and raised the rifle to his shoulder.

  He took a deep breath and exhaled. “Say the word,” he said nodding at John.

  Before John could get the binoculars focused the figure raised its head and screamed. Leaning forward it broke into a sprint down Church Street charging directly at them. Derek held his fire. John focused the binoculars and had a clear view of the demon. Its red glaring eyes seemed to pierce the lenses and burn into his own.

  John felt the anger well up inside him. “Drop him,” he said through clenched teeth.

  Jimmy covered his ears. Amy put her arms around him. Shanna watched nervously. Her heart pounding. Derek stood still. The demon closing the distance quickly.

  “Derek...” Amy whispered as the zombie grew nearer. “You can shoot now.”

  John looked at her and shook his head no. With complete confidence in Derek’s abilities he didn’t even raise his own pistol.

  Finally with the demon fifty yards away, Derek took a deep breath, slowly exhaled, and at thirty yards squeezed the trigger. The round left the barrel and found its mark dead center of the demon’s forehead. The back of the demon’s skull flew apart showering the pavement behind it with puréed brains and blood.

  The demon zombie stumbled forward a few more steps and crashed to the ground face first. It slid to a stop on the hard pavement just in front of the French Huguenot Church. A pool of blood spread quickly under its shattered head.

  Amy and Shanna looked at each other. “Wait for it,” Amy whispered.

  “Great shot dude!” John said excitedly. “Awesome.”

  “Thanks man,” Derek said. “All in the breathing.”

  “Yep.”

  “And there it is,” Amy said.

  “Are they always like this?” Shanna asked.

  “Yep...” Amy said. “Get used to it. The mutual macho admiration society...”

  The church bell rang again three times and stopped. The ringing faded as the sound of guttural growling and teeth gnashing returned. The survivors stood listening as the zombies drew nearer.

  “What now?” Shanna asked.

  John looked around for a route to safety. “We turn right here on Queen, up to Meeting Street, take a left, go two blocks to Broad Street and we’ll be at Saint Michaels,” he said. “Simple...”

  Derek reached into one of the backpacks and removed a flare.

  “What are you going to do with that?” Shanna asked.

  “It’ll distract them.” Amy said.

  By this time the zombies had covered half the distance to them. Derek raced forward, lit the flare and threw it at the feet of the ones in front. The pungent smoke wafted into the air. The group of walking corpses stopped their advance, circled the flare and stood basking in the sulfur smoke. Each elbowing for position. Their advance halted. At least for now.

  “Weird,” Shanna said.

  “Alright guys,” Derek said heading down Queen Street. “Shows over lets go!”

  John gestured the others forward and took up the rear. He looked back one more time. The zombies were still occupied with the flare. He knew it would burn out soon.

  Half way to Meeting Street, just in front of Valentina’s Pottery, a man appeared. Derek raised his rifle but didn’t fire. The group halted.

  “Is it a stiff?” Shanna whispered.

  “Yeah I think so,” Derek said as the lone figure continued to stare at them.

  On closer examination it became clear to Amy that the man in front of them was definitely a zombie.

  “It is,” she said. “But what kind.”

  “I think it’s a gomer,” Derek said. “Just maybe a different kind. He walks more like us.”

  “It’s not a regular zombie. That’s for sure,” John added. “It has to be a gomer.”

  The zombie continued to stare at them. He looked almost frightened. Amy felt sorry for it as Derek kept it in his sights just in case. The gomer looked around nervously.

  “I think it’s the same one that was watching us at the church,” John said.

  The church bell rang again and just as quickly as he appeared, the gomer raced down the driveway of the house across from the Pottery Shop and disappeared.

  “Why didn’t you kill it?” Shanna asked.

  Derek looked at her and shrugged. “We told you already. We don’t kill gomers.”

  “But you don’t know it was for sure.”

  “Nah. I’m pretty sure,” Derek said.

  “We have to keep moving guys,” John said. “Lets go.”

  They started out again and covered only a few steps when another large group of the dead appeared in front of them blocking their route.

  “We have to go back,” Amy said.

  “We can’t,” Shanna said pointing behind them to the other mob who had lost interest in the burned out flare.

  Screams came from both sides.

  “Oh shit!” Derek said. “This is not good.”

  The screams trailed off. Both mobs advanced on them. The noise growing more intense. The zombies sensing an easy kill.

  “It’s coming!” Amy exclaimed seeing a demon burst from the crowd in front of them.

  Head down, red eyes glaring it sprinted for them screaming as it came.

  “There’s another one!” Jimmy said pointing to the mob behind them.

  Derek advanced on the new threat and nodded for John to take the one behind. John ran several yards toward the demon and fired. He had fired only one round when the weapon jammed. Calmly he laid the rifle down and pulled out the M9 pistol. He walked forward as he fired at the zombie. The demon took several rounds in the chest and neck before taking one in the right eye and dropping quickly.

  Derek dropped to one knee and fired a single shot. The demon zombie crashed to the ground. Dead again.

  Jimmy began to cry. Amy pulled him closer. John and Derek backpedaled to the group.

  There was a grunt behind them. John turned to the see the gomer who ran away just seconds before standing in the driveway behind them.

  Shanna r
aised her weapon.

  “No,” Amy said. “Don’t shoot it.”

  The zombie grunted loudly again and turned to walk toward the back of the house stopping after a few paces to turn and look at them again.

  “He wants us to follow him,” Derek said.

  The zombie grunted a third time as if to urge them forward.

  John eyed the two packs of zombies again. They were closing fast.

  “Go,” he said pushing Amy and Jimmy forward.

  Shanna followed. Derek waited at the street until they were all behind the house safely. When he caught up with them they were standing just a few feet from the zombie. The dead man reached over and tapped on the gate.

  “There’s a lock but the key is still in it,” John said.

  The gate was seven feet high and made of wrought iron. It led to a courtyard and one car garage behind the house. John grabbed the lock and turned the key. The zombie stood nearby watching as John pulled the gate open.

  “Go,” John said motioning Amy, Jimmy and Shanna forward.

  They walked through to the other side. The gomer stayed where he was and didn’t follow.

  “Here they come,” Derek said as the two groups of zombies merged into one and shuffled up the driveway.

  Derek raised his rifle and took two zombies out with one shot each.

  “Why did you shoot at them?” Shanna asked. “I mean, what’s the point.”

  “Why?” Derek said. “Because, I’m pissed. The point? Because it feels good. Any more questions?”

  “What about him?” Shanna asked about the gomer.

  “There’s nothing we can do,” John said. “He’s on his on.”

  They watched the gomer turn away and head for the hungry mob.

  Derek closed the gate, locked it and stuck the key in his pocket.

  When the gomer zombie reached the crowd they parted to let him pass.

  “Wow,” John said. “What do you make of that?”

  “More weird shit,” Derek said. “You can’t make this stuff up.”

  It looked back at them one more time before disappearing into the crowd.

  They retreated to the back of the courtyard which was enclosed by a seven foot high rock and cement wall. On the right side of the yard was a parking lot for the business next door with a walk through gate.