Tom was the first to regain his composure, and the group started moving before he had finished the sentence. Papillon, well ahead, already passed the still-warm bodies of the looters he had taken out so expertly a few seconds before.
“They are insane!” Amadou uttered just as the truck hit the gate.
The impact of the 8-ton vehicle colliding with solid steel threatened to knock him off his feet. Amadou broke into a run. Behind him, the truck’s bumper smashed through the bolt that had kept the entrance from opening, sending the gate flying outward and into the mass of dead flesh that was pressing against it. Tossing bodies into the air, its tires crushing the dead, mushing them into pulp, the fully laden vehicle rammed through the gate and into the crowd. Initially carried forward by raw kinetic force, it slowed rapidly, its energy dissipating in the ocean of corpses around it.
The masses of dead undulated like waves crashing into a rudderless ship, slowing the vehicle to a crawl. Then, already almost at a standstill, the desperate driver shifted into a lower gear, and it jolted forward one last time. The truck’s tires spun out, losing traction as more and more bodies got sucked under. With nothing but thick sludge beneath them, the wheels soon turned freely, spraying skyward a fountain of shredded flesh and bone like the output of a giant wood chipper. The sickly smell of burning rubber and flesh descended on the area. Amadou fought back a gag reflex as he stopped and took a last glance over his shoulder. Briefly repelled by the force of the impact, the horde bounced back, a wave of corpses spilling through the narrow opening between truck and gate like putrid water through a sluice gate.
Papillon reached the wall on the other side of the compound just as the first of the dead began pouring in. Excited moans behind him left him with little doubt. The dead had already locked onto their targets.
“Come on, guys! Faster!”
The rest of the group was now equidistance between him and the gate. The horde now streamed into the compound, consuming the open ground like a black cancerous mass.
“Not a minute too early!” He smirked. Nadia and then Tom arrived.
“We need you here, skinny!”
None of them would be able to get to the top with the ease and speed Amadou could.
Hunched over, the Congolese fought the urge to vomit as he continued to watch the gate when a sudden tug on his vest had him spin around.
“I need you to fix the ladder up top!” It was Tom’s voice, and he instantly relaxed.
“You go ahead, Lee, if you don’t mind? “ Tom winked. “I’ll take the rear!”
“Glad to.” Amadou nodded, wiping spittle from the corner of his mouth.
Tom pulled the cocking lever of his rifle, took aim in the direction of the crash, and cringed. He had wanted to avoid going loud as much as possible, but it looked like there was no longer a choice.
Out of the corner of his eye, he could already see Papillon lift Amadou onto his shoulders, and Amadou grabbing a hold on the ledge just above him. Back at the gate, though, once again, not all of the dead were as slow as the ones they had observed from the safety of his house earlier. Agitated by the noise and stimulated by the prospect of a meal, some had already managed to out-lumber the crowd. 80 yards and closing, it would not be long before they reached the survivor’s part of the compound. Tom slung his rifle. Firing now would only make things worse.
“We have a problem!” Amadou’s voice came from behind.
Tom turned and watched the Congolese, rope ladder in hand, frantically running up and down on the top of the perimeter wall.
“There are no bars here!” Amadou shouted, desperate to find something to affix the ladder to.
“There is nothing. Not. A. Thing!”
“We don’t have time for this!” Tom’s shot back, his gaze again on the advancing corpses.
The first of the dead were now within 40 yards. Getting down on one knee and steadied his weapon.
“Do something!” Nadia yelled, but Amadou was still running up and down like a madman.
The first shot rang out from Tom’s M4, its report piercing the night and momentarily stopping everything in its tracks. Their pursuers responded in unison as another burst of energy pulsed through their ranks. The first bullet passed through the tall body of corpse dressed like a long-distance runner, before smashing through the skull of a small female missing her arms, sending both stumbling back, but only her going down for good.
The nearest creature was less than 20 yards away when Tom fired again. This time he hit his target dead-on. For an instant, the pudgy man in dark-stained traditional clothing reminded him of one of the many National Geographic shows he and Julie used to watch during cold English winter nights. Then his jawless head exploded. His knees instantly gave way, and the man’s body hit the ground in a loud splat, black matter and bone spraying the crowd behind him.
Papillon also held his weapon at the ready now, his eyes darting back and forth between Amadou and the corpses, the latter now near enough to make out their ghastly features. Papillon gritted his teeth. The survivors had seconds before they would find themselves trapped with nowhere to go and outnumbered a hundredfold by hungry corpses.
“That is it. We are going to have to do this the hard way!”
The others looked on in confusion as Papillon suddenly slung his rifle and, instead of firing, turned to Nadia. Her back to the wall, she was cradling Anna in one arm and holding her pistol in the other. Before she could object, Papillon’s giant arm yanked Anna from her grip and flung her skyward. Her small body flew high into the air, where it seemed to float for a moment before entering free fall, dropping back down toward the concrete.
Tom’s eyes grew wide. Out of nowhere, Amadou’s hand shot forward with lightning speed. A silent scream escaped Nadia’s mouth as he grabbed Anna by the back of her sweater, arresting her fall. He quickly pulled her to the top and tied the loose ends of the rope ladder around her, then lowered her to the other side and out of immediate danger.
“You are crazy!” Nadia finally yelled with relief, as more shots rang out behind her.
Tom let loose one last volley of rounds into the group of corpses directly in front of him. Too close now to engage with his rifle, he switched weapons and fired his Glock, the muzzle almost touching the dead as bullet after bullet tore through them. Some fell permanently, their heads exploded, while others stumbled, the kinetic energy sending them into a spin. Eyes still fixed on the target, they staggered, flailed and collided with one another like pins in a bowling alley, before regaining balance and continuing their pursuit.
Nadia joined him, firing Amadou’s pistol from where she was standing. Although far less apt at the task, her efforts momentarily helped slow a few of the faster ones. They both took another step back and fired simultaneously, then retreated again. Nadia could almost feel the concrete of the perimeter wall against their backs now.
“You are next, my friend!” Papillon yelled.
Shaking out his arms and steadying himself for what would be a considerably harder lift, he cocked his head and estimated her weight. Before she could protest, let alone sling weapon, Nadia found herself grabbed by the pants and lifted into the air like a sack of maize. In one move, Papillon switched his hold and, getting his hands under her buttocks, pushed her high above his head.
“Sukin Syn!” Nadia cursed with indignation, but she knew better than to struggle.
Kicking wildly, her feet finally found a foothold on his broad shoulders, and her hands found Amadou’s reaching for her from above. He grunted from the strain as tendons threatened to tear from bone. One more heave and Nadia’s upper body was over the wall where she hung like a wet blanket, legs kicking as she struggled to get to the top. Below, sweat poured down Tom’s back as he changed another magazine.
Nadia’s fire support had fallen silent, but there was no time to turn around and look. The horde had swollen in numbers, pushed into the compound by the thousands behind it. At first, only a group of a hundred or so had spotte
d the men and given chase, but with moans and gunfire announcing their find like a dinner bell, the area was now thick with rotting creatures. Tom could do little but look on as they approached from all sides. He fired again and again. The closest ones were but 10 feet away now. Soon they would flank him and cut him off from the rest of the group.
Doing his best to control his breathing, he steadied his aim and one by one, acquired his targets. Creatures crumpled to the ground, falling over each other and tripping up others, the front row layer of bodies for a brief moment creating a barrier for those behind them. He watched his strategy at work and smiled nervously. It would buy him but seconds. Trampling over the fallen, a churning wall of death again lumbered towards him like an out-of-control meat tumbler.
Another round and the gun was empty. Eyes on the corpses, his fingers frantically searched his pockets. ‘One last magazine’. He gulped. Amadou had taken his spare pack when they had run from cover on the other side.
He slammed the magazine into the pistol and moved closer to the only protection available. The nearest building was but a few feet away. It would have to do.
Concentrating his fire on the right flank, he shifted aim from side to side. ‘6 rounds to go. 5 rounds to go…’ Tom counted off the remaining bullets with each shot. ‘3 rounds to…’ The face of what had been a man in his forties appeared directly in front of him. Wearing track pants and a torn-up T-shirt, an empty stomach cavity, and exposed ribcage protruded through the ripped material. Strips of skin and small intestine dangled from his hips like a fleshy hula skirt. The creature reached for Tom, so close that it touched the Glock’s barrel. Its hollow eyes locked onto the living feast, and its mouth opened wide in anticipation. There was no time to adjust. Tom squeezed the trigger. The thing’s skull erupted in a cloud of brown mist, instantly covering anything and everything in its immediate vicinity.
“Shit…” Tom cursed under his breath.
His vision blurred, he fired blindly at the multiple hands tearing at his sleeves. ‘Last round.’ The thought of saving it for himself flashed through his mind, but he shook it off. It exploded with another ‘Boom.’ Then the slide locked back. With an iron grip, hands took hold and dragged him by the shoulders. The pungent smell of death filling his nostrils, he struggled against the force. Finding himself catapulted backward, he crashed hard into a wall. Still blinded by the putrid remains of his last kill, he felt himself being hurled skyward. Momentarily suspended in mid-air, his arms and legs flailed about helplessly. Relentlessly, more hands took hold, tearing at his clothes and pulling him towards them with insuperable strength.
“For fuck’s sake, stop struggling!” Nadia’s voice drifted through the fog as Tom landed atop the wall.
Trying to wipe his eyes, Tom looked around. Next to him sat Amadou and the Russian, both breathing heavily with exertion.
“Now would be good!” Papillon pleaded from below.
Even more, agitated by Tom’s sudden disappearance, the dead had already refocused their attention. Now backed into a virtual corner, Papillon fired in rapid bursts. Taking some down for good and cutting others in half, round after round obliterated the oncoming bodies. More and more fell, but with Papillon forced to rapidly shift fire, more and more remained mobile. Corpses, cut in half by the barrage, crawled undeterred over the tangle of limbs and torsos. Breaking nails and shredding fingers on the rough concrete, they steadily dragged themselves towards their objective.
It was not until the first bony fingers scratched across the leather of his boots that Papillon realized his predicament. Trying to shake off the creature, he lost aim. The next volley pierced nothing but the night sky as he fought not to trip over the legless creature. Tightening its grip even further, it pulled in closer. He looked down in horror as teeth scraped and scarred across the black leather. Fingers closed around his ankle in a vice-like grip.
Papillon jumped as a sudden boom threatened to shatter his eardrum. The creature went limp, its hand sliding down the pant leg before coming to rest on the concrete. It was Nadia’s pistol that had put an end to the creature’s existence.
“What the hell?!” Papillon screamed, holding his ear before slamming another magazine into his rifle.
The next legless corpse had already slid across its dead comrade and taken up its plight. Papillon felt its fingers digging into his calves now as it positioned itself for a bite.
“I said, NOW WOULD BE GOOD!” His voice cracked under the strain.
Holding his rifle with one hand, he reached up with the other. Amadou and Nadia grabbed hold of his giant forearm and pulled as hard they could, but to little avail.
“Pull me up, you bastards!” Papillon squealed as the corpse’s jaws descended on his lower leg.
Above him, leaning back as far as they could, the two grunted, hissed and struggled, their body weight barely offsetting that of the heavy Frenchman.
“Don’t you dare let go!” Papillon looked up at them with bloodshot eyes.
Another pull, and he cleared the ground, sending the corpse hanging onto his leg face-first into the wall. Its teeth shattered, its face scraped along the concrete, and then it finally let go.
Tom, still barely able to see, fired blindly into the crowd. Bullets zinged around Papillon’s head, and he screamed at the top of his lungs as more and more dead fingers closed around his ankles and teeth gnawed through his heavy boots. Amadou and Nadia continued their uneven tug-of-war against the onslaught of the dead hanging onto their friend with cold determination. Tom dropped his rifle and drew his pistol, continuing to pump round after round into the bodies below. Some hit the mark, sending corpses limply falling back into the putrid mosh pit of their peers, while others ricocheted off the tarmac, tearing gaping holes into writhing bodies, spilling their insides all over the ground. Papillon screamed as a ricochet tore into his thigh. In an instant, blood soaked through his Khaki cargo pants and dripped into the gaping mouths below him.
The thought of their friend being bitten sent a new surge of adrenaline through Amadou and Nadia, freeing up the last of their energy reserves. With one coordinated heave, he felt himself whisked away from the forest of reaching hands and finally over the wall.
Wiping the sweat from their foreheads, they sat and watched the ever-swelling crowd of the dead as they trampled and crushed each other in furious frenzy, eyes locked onto the four as they huffed and puffed just out of reach a few feet above. Nadia grabbed a rag from her pocket and handed it to Tom.
“Here, wipe that crap off. It helps with the aiming!”
“You shot me, I can’t believe you shot me!” Papillon stammered, still visibly shaken.
“You can thank me later.” Tom retorted, and they all let out a strained chuckle.
Amadou hocked a loogie and skilfully spat it into the moaning mass. The others followed suit.
“Fuckers.” Nadia shook her head and began dropping their packs and other equipment down into the next compound.
“At least we won’t have to worry too much on the other side.” Amadou inspected the adjacent property.
The lot was vacant and in typical fashion had been walled in completely on all sides, with nothing but a small but sturdy metal door recessed into the bricks providing access to a service road. It was not unusual for people to sit on their land in urban areas, watching its value appreciate as potential buyers engaged in bidding wars for years on end. If you could keep out squatters, the practice could earn you a lifetime of wealth in a city where property prices were known to double and sometimes triple within less than a year.
“We should probably get going then.” Tom opined, wiping the last bits of dead matter from his face, head, and clothing.
“You smell like a bum’s ass.” Nadia joked, waving her hand in front of her nose, making Amadou laugh out loud.
“I hate to remind you guys,” Papillon interjected, “but we are still on top of this bloody wall, there are still bloody thousands of these things down there, and oh, yeah, I am still
bloody shot! So please, can we make a move!?”
“A moment ago you were screaming like a girl,” Amadou quipped, “so, as they say, keep on your underpants and be nice. We are the ones that still have to lower your heavy derriere to the other side.”
“It’s ‘knickers.’” Papillon sulked. “Keep your knickers on.”
“I thought knickers were for girls?” Amadou winked.
Tom and Nadia raised an eyebrow and chuckled. They made it to the other side without incident, leaving behind the seething mass of corpses still clawing at the concrete wall, nails breaking and scraping the stripping flesh from their bony fingers, moans of agony tearing through the cool night air.
Having reassured themselves that there were no more unwelcome surprises, they decided to make camp in the overgrown rubble of the vacant lot. It was time to reassess and recuperate after what they all agreed had been too narrow an escape. They moved towards the back of the lot, where a mix of broken concrete slab and abandoned materials formed an almost circular mound. Amadou had inspected the other walls. Considerably lower than the one they had just jumped down from, he figured they were still high enough to keep out the dead, even if they piled on top of each other as they had seen before.
The rear of the property bordered more uncontrolled areas of grass and ramshackle huts occupied by the homeless, while the Southern side had a single lane road traverse its entire length, providing bumpy access to the areas at the rear. Through the NVGs, he had seen a few figures shambling along, here and there stumbling into large potholes, but by en large, most of the dead seemed to prefer to move in groups and thus had joined the mass migration along the main road.
“We’re in good shape,” Amadou announced.
“Speak for yourself!” Papillon rubbed his bandaged thigh and grimaced as pain pulsated through it with each beat of his heart.
Tom had immediately tended to Anna, who was still out and completely oblivious to how close their group had come to death moments earlier. Tom lovingly ran his fingers through her hair. For better or worse, her condition remained unchanged.
The Virophage Chronicles (Book 2): Dead Hemisphere [Keres Rising] Page 14
