Dennis walked up to the group and asked, “Eddie?”
Tom shook his head. He then surveyed the people inside the OR. “How’s everyone here?”
A flash of sadness crossed Hank’s eyes. He looked down at the floor for a few seconds and then back up at Tom. “Rachael’s gone. Lincoln used her to get info...she hung on until last night.” Hank looked away, clearly choked up and holding back tears. “She’s better off now.” He finished.
This hit Tom hard. He had been through a lot with Rachael and she was always there for the group. She had a great heart and was one of the gutsiest people he had ever met. Losing people was the hard reality of these times, but that didn’t make it any easier. “Damn...I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Brad got banged up pretty good by Lincoln as well, but he’s doing all right.” Hank said.
Tom nodded his head and said, “First thing, we gotta find a way outta here. The main floor is infested with them. The basement isn’t as bad, but they’re there.”
“How’d you get in?” Dennis asked from behind Hank.
“They’ve swarmed the parking lots and all around the building. Eddie knew about some old tunnels that run under Newport. We took those and popped up in an old boiler room in the basement.”
Hank looked hopeful. “Can we get back out that way?”
“Definitely. The trouble is going to be getting down there.” Tom held up his revolver and said, “I have a few rounds left for this and maybe fifteen rounds for my 9mm. We can’t gun our way out.” He looked over Hank’s shoulder and added, “I’m not sure how we get all these people down.”
“Everyone here is alive because they’re fighters. I think we piece together whatever weapons we can, get to the basement, and gang rush out of here.” Hank said.
“That’s crazy enough it might just work.”
“I don’t see another way, we have to just barrel out.” Hank said with what looked like a grin on his face.
******
After several minutes of planning and nearly an hour of scavenging for makeshift weapons, the group now stood in a semi-circle listening to Tom. He stood in front of them with Hank at his side. “Stick together, we can’t wait or go back for anyone. Don’t waste time fighting. Defend yourself, but keep moving. If you stop they’ll swarm you and then you’re done.”
They all knew Tom had more experience surviving amongst the infected than any of them and they had a huge amount of respect for him. While he was away from the hospital Hank had told stories of what they had been through together, turning Tom into an instant legend. Then he returned from what many thought was certain death, only raising his status all the more. Most would now follow him into the pits of hell.
“Stay tight and watch yourself.” Tom finished.
Everyone began nodding their heads emphatically and talking amongst each other. Some shared hugs, knowing this could get ugly.
Tom turned to Kelly and said, “Stay right behind me. No matter what happens stick right behind me. We’re going to lose people...you can’t worry about that. Don’t stop for anyone, okay?”
Kelly nodded her head. Her eyes looked terrified.
“Promise me. Promise me you will stay with me.”
“I will, I promise.” She said.
Tom nodded his head and pulled her into his chest for a hug. They stood embracing each other for a few minutes, trying to imagine themselves somewhere better.
“Break it up or get a room you two.” Hank said from next to them. With a grin he added, “The gangs ready.”
“Let’s rock.” Tom said.
Dennis said he knew the best route down to the basement and would help lead the way, so out in front were Tom, Hank, and Dennis. The elevator would never hold them all and was not even an option. The back stairway was hopefully clear and would get them all the way down to the bottom of the hospital. Tom and Hank were the only two with guns, while the rest of the group had makeshift weapons. They looked like a group of thugs out of an action movie in the Bronx. Some carried bats made out of table legs. Others carried surgery tools like saws and scalpels.
Like a swarm of bees they all moved down the hall as one. Rather than turning down the hall toward the elevator and primary stairway, they made their way down the hall in the other direction. After a sharp turn the hall led to a nondescript metal door. There were no markings to notify anyone of where it led, but Dennis was confident it would get them where they needed to go.
Hank raised his pistol and pointed it at the center of the door.
Tom got ready to give the crash bar a push. “If there’s nothing, keep quite till it hits the fan.”
Hank nodded in agreement.
Tom raised his revolver and gave the crash bar a shove with his foot. The door swung wide open, revealing an empty cement stairwell. A single emergency light was mounted high on the wall, striking the space in a harsh light full of eerie shadows. The door made a loud bang as it slammed into the cement wall, echoing loudly in the enclosed chamber. There were no growls, foot falls, or other noises of the infected.
“Stairway’s clear, let’s move.” Tom whispered.
No matter how quiet people tried to be, they still made a lot of noise. The group sounded like a herd of elephants in the cement stairwell. It took lots of practice to truly be able to stay quiet and sneak. Most people thought they had it, but very few really did. Tom just hoped all the racket was not penetrating out into the basement.
After two flights of stairs they reached an unmarked metal door. Tom held his ear to the door listening, but could only pick up the distant thrum of the generator.
Dennis pointed at the door and said, “Goes to a narrow hall that runs between some offices. We’ll take it for fifty feet or so, jog right and then we’re in the main hall...close to the elevator.”
Tom looked back at the packed stairway. Scared white eyes stared back at him. He felt like this was the moment that a great leader would give a rousing speech about good triumphing over evil and the power of the human spirit. Instead he turned back to the door, a heavy lump weighing on his stomach. The churning acid almost made him heave. Some kind of leader I am.
Using the same door opening technique as earlier, Hank stepped back with his pistol pointed center mass at the door, while Tom stood, grabbed the door handle and pulled it open. Tom stepped back a bit allowing room for the door to open. Before it got all the way open a muffled grunt sounded from somewhere on the other side. There were no lights on in the narrow hall. Tom was prepared for this and used his off hand to click on the large flashlight. The bright beam shot into the darkness, illuminating a woman’s face.
She was young, maybe twenty at the most, and was probably pretty before she turned. Just by the bright red puffiness surrounding her eyes it was clear she was infected. Her teeth were bared in a half grimace as she sprinted their way. She was just opening her mouth in a shriek when Hank’s pistol barked. The shot hit her in the bridge of the nose, splattering gore across her face, and dropping her to the floor. After all the quiet, the shot sounded like a cannon blast.
Before Tom could get moving, Dennis and a couple others sprinted past, rushing down the narrow hallway into the darkness.
“Go, go!” Tom shouted as he sprinted after them. His flashlight beam bouncing wildly as he ran. The sounds of feet pounding on the floor trailed after him. Somewhere ahead echoed the terrifying huffs of the demented.
His flashlight beam hit on something rounding the corner just ahead of them. Maybe a pair of legs running their way. One of the people leading the way shifted over to the side of the hall, blocking Tom’s view.
The scream was blood curdling.
The dark form went to the floor in a thrashing of arms and legs. Tom aimed the flashlight at the mass, lighting up the two bodies struggling with one another. One of them shouted with exertion.
Just ahead one of the men grunted loudly and there was a sickening crunch, followed by a thud as something slammed into the wall. The thought of
leaving someone fighting for their life on the floor tore at Tom’s conscience.
Angry growls sounded from elsewhere in the basement.
Tom raced past the two entangled forms on the floor, shining his flashlight ahead. A demented lay crumpled up at the base of the far wall, blood streaming down his face and neck. Dennis and one other man were just turning the corner to the right. Following the two men around the corner, Tom was glad to see the large hallway just ahead was lit with emergency lighting.
A dark blur darted from the side and slammed into Dennis, taking him to the floor out of sight. The man next to him began to turn, but before he could finish the movement another demented tackled him as well. The ferocious growls and bone chilling screams that followed were one of the worst things Tom had ever heard. A pair of kicking boots was just visible past the open doorway.
Tom’s heart was booming in his chest. The sounds of the infected were ramping up. The infected heard each other and fed off the rage. Their ranks swelled, attracted to the sounds of prey.
“Keep going!” He heard Hank shout from next to him. Until then Tom hadn’t realized he had slowed to nearly a stop. Hank’s voice pulled him out of his stupor.
Tom jammed his flashlight into his utility belt as he raced down the corridor. Reaching the main hall, he saw entangled bodies struggling on the floor. Stark emergency lights cast harsh shadows throughout the area. Blood was beginning to pool across the cement. Screams were turning to gurgled gasps, like yanking a pair of boots out of thick mud.
Shoes pounding on the cement echoed from around the corner, warning the group of what was to come. Seconds later several demented rushed around the corner, growling in anger. They were moving impossibly fast and when they saw people right in front of them they seemed to surge ahead, driven by their hunger and rage.
“Firing left.” Tom shouted while running straight at the attackers. Wanting to make every shot count, Tom aimed center mass. The revolver thundered and kicked, sending a round slamming into the side of the demented furthest to the left. His body spun sideways. His feet caught together, spilling him to the cement.
From next to Tom, Hank’s pistol began spitting lead with a loud pop, pop, pop . He started on the right side, continuing to run while shooting.
The sounds of the group following behind them were nearly drowned out by the infected. As fast as Tom and Hank could gun demented down, more rounded the corner. They were both slowing to nearly a stop as they continued to try to hold the demented at bay. Tom looked longingly at the stairwell door, but he knew it only led to death on the main floor. He felt Kelly bump into him from behind.
It was just as his revolver ran dry with an ominous click that several people raced past him, clubs and weapons raised. They screamed the battle cry of the doomed. A final defiant shout to let the world know they were “all in.” From next to him, Hank’s pistol must have run dry as well, the only sounds that remained were the shrieks, screams, and growls of the combatants.
Tom ditched the revolver and slid the police baton from his utility belt. Ahead of him the two forces slammed into each other with a thud that could be felt in his chest. The speed and sheer number of demented began pushing the group back, biting and clawing at their exposed flesh. Baton raised, Tom screamed out and sprinted into the fray. Hank and the others followed in his wake.
Before reaching the fight, Tom noticed the door to the stairwell was shaking and a loud pounding emanated from behind it. The infected on the second floor must have heard the shots and wanted in on the action. If they got the door open the group would surely be out flanked and overran.
Tom picked one of the largest of the demented. He was an enormous, barrel chested man with a deep red beard that reached all the way to his chest. His huge arms were fending off attacks and beating on anyone that dared come close to him. Face twisted with rage, teeth bared, he growled with anger.
Using his momentum, Tom raced through the throngs, hell bent on taking down the Red Giant. With the baton raised over his head Tom yelled out and swung down, directing the blow at the large man’s forehead. With surprising quickness Red brought up one of his tree trunk sized forearms, deflecting the blow. With the hit came a loud crack, but this only seemed to enrage him. He swung at Tom with his other fist. Tom ducked the swinging attack and used his forward momentum to crash shoulder first into Red’s waist, sending the two of them crashing to the floor.
Before Tom could even begin to do anything a demented pounced on his back, scratching and clawing at his exposed neck. Tom tried to swing an elbow around to knock the creature off, but only got partway through the movement when one of Red’s monstrous fists slammed into the side of his head. Pain shot through his skull, streaking all the way down his spine. His vision blurred, tiny white sparkles dotting and dancing across his sight. He struggled to remain conscious. Sam’s precious face flashed in his mind.
Kelly was a few steps behind Tom when she saw him crash to the floor. A small girl, maybe in her teens, jumped on top of his back and began tearing at him. Kelly had to do something. Looking to her right she saw Hank in the middle of a pair of demented. He stood swinging a metal table leg, desperately trying to bring them down.
The chaos surrounding her was nearly overwhelming. The sounds of battle were constant, almost a solid hum, like a crowd at a sports stadium. Occasionally the thrum was broken by a scream of agony.
Kelly pushed it away, shoving it out of her mind, and focusing only on what was right in front of her. She raised a wicked looking, jagged cleaver above her head and brought it slamming down on the base of the girl’s skull. The body slumped limply on top of Tom.
She watched as the giant man below Tom reached out with both hands and began squeezing Tom’s head. His face contorted and grimaced with effort as he tried to smash Tom’s skull. Tom reached out for Red’s arms, grasping them and trying to pull them free. Kelly sliced at Red’s forearms. The surgical tool easily sliced through the man’s flesh, exposing white bone before dark red blood oozed out. Red still held firm to Tom’s head.
Tom screamed out in agony.
Lunging on top of them, Kelly held the knife in her fist and brought it arching down into one of Red’s eye sockets. The huge arms immediately fell slack and the big man let out a final gasp of built up air.
Despite this small victory chaos still reigned all around. Crimson blood spattered the floor and walls. Bodies clashed and struggled, some for survival and some out of pure hate and rage. They had to get out of here.
As if on cue, the stairwell door suddenly flung open. Demented began pouring out, growling with excitement.
Tom shook the small girl off his back, but was struggling to stand, still disoriented from the blow he took. His head was in excruciating pain and it was difficult to see clearly. Partway to his feet his knees buckled, sending him crumpling to the floor. He felt a hand reach under his armpit, working to lift him to his feet. Looking over his shoulder, he saw it was Kelly.
“Get up Baby, get up! We need to move!” She shouted.
With her help he was able to regain his feet. Ahead of him several members of their group had burst through the wall of demented and were racing down the hall. A few of the demented had split off and were pursuing them.
Kelly grabbed Tom’s arm and started running after them. Tom was still a bit woozy but followed after her. Several others from their group joined the sprint down the hall, trying their best to just barrel their way through any demented that still stood.
Demented continued to spill out of the open stairwell door. Some of them went straight after people that still struggled with the wall of demented, while others chased after Tom and the others.
Tom could hear the demented that followed them, their shrieks echoing down the long hall. He could just make out Hank and a few others turning the corner up ahead, four demented right on their heels. Chasing after some of the demented did not feel right, but with dozens racing behind them, it was their only option. Tom realized he no lon
ger had a weapon. He slid the large flashlight free of his utility belt, so he at least had something should the demented in front decide to turn around.
After dodging through an ‘s’ shaped hallway, Tom saw the Housekeeping door just ahead. A dark form just disappeared out of sight. At the door Tom looked left down the hall that led past the service elevator he had used previously. It seemed like an eternity ago. Reaching out to shove the Housekeeping entry open, he saw several demented racing around the corner past the elevator. The sound of feet pounding on concrete filtered down the open stairway as well.
“This way.” Tom shouted. His head was finally clearing and he felt able to focus on getting out of this place. Pushing the door open he raced through, Kelly following right behind. He slammed the metal door closed behind them, hoping it would at least slow any followers.
Kelly let out a scream from next to him. Spinning around, he saw several demented crawling through the debris left from the shelf they had tipped over earlier. The noise had caused one of the demented to freeze partway through the boiler room door. Despite the summer heat, the younger man wore a flannel shirt and thick workman’s pants. He stood motionless for a brief moment and then slowly twisted his head back around, trying to determine the source of the noise. One of his eyes had been gouged out long ago, only a dark hole and black, dried blood remained.
Tom raised the flashlight up by his head and charged straight at Flannel. Past the door, several of the demented were just getting to their feet and beginning to race Tom’s way. Flannel was just getting turned around when Tom slammed the flashlight into the top of his skull and crashed into him, shoulder first. His momentum carried them through the doorway and over a railing. They both flew through the air and came crashing to the hard cement five feet below. The impact jarred Tom’s hip and elbow, shooting pain through his body. The wind was knocked from his lungs, causing him to gasp for air.
Unaffected by the fall, Flannel began scratching and clawing Tom. Blood oozed from a deep scratch in the center of his forehead. Despite the brutal gash and blood streaming into his eyes he continued to fight with determined ferocity.
The Demented Z (Book 2): Desolation Page 13
