Too Many Humans

by Jacob Rayne

  He came out into the ground floor of Cross’s church home.

  Gold-adorned grandeur greeted him in the main corridor, a million miles away from the dank depravity going on in the basement supposedly in God’s name.

  A huge stained glass window with two extremely intricate red and green crosses set into it was the spectacular centrepiece, surrounded by hand-carved gold frames which must have taken months to craft.

  Such wealth and extravagance was sickening when the rest of the world was struggling to fill their aching bellies.

  Davey wished he still had the bomb as he would have set it away and blown the church and everything it represented to kingdom come.

  He would have to settle for hoping the fire he’d started did enough damage.

  An armed guard stood by the door that led out of the church.

  Davey saw that he was raising the gun so ducked down out of sight, just as bullets chipped the expensive marble altar.

  Shards of it fell into his hair and made small cuts on his skin.

  He peered round and saw the gunman slowly moving closer, the rifle held in front of him, aiming straight at the altar.

  Then the fire he’d started helped him out as the gunman disappeared in the smoke.

  After another hail of bullets further damaged the ornate altar, Davey stood and hurled the blowtorch into the flames near the gunman.

  The carpet round the other side of the altar went up in an inferno, the gunman crying out as his feet were set ablaze.

  Davey risked a glance and saw him beating at the flames with his rifle butt.

  Davey watched as the fires hit the ornate green and gold fabric runner that ran up the back wall of the church.

  It acted like a fuse to the wooden furnishings on the wall.

  The dry wood went up too, sending more thick black smoke flooding out into the altar area.

  Davey knew this was his chance.

  He hoped he was running in the right direction, as it was now impossible to see.

  The heat in the room was beginning to sear the hairs on his arms.

  Taking a breath in was like inhaling broken glass.

  Davey stifled a cough, not wanting to give away his position.

  Smoke stung his eyes and made them tear up.

  He blinked hard, clearing them only for them to blur again a split-second later.

  It felt like they were being boiled in their sockets.

  Davey heard the gunman succumb to the smoke.

  Get the fuck outta here, he thought.

  Or you’ll be next.

  Another gunman in the distance cursed as his jeans ignited.

  Davey felt his way along the wall, doing his best to hold his breath now.

  His lungs began to blaze, his brain feeling like it was growing big enough to burst through the walls of his skull.

  He stepped over a body on the floor.

  He couldn’t make out who it was, but he realised they were his ticket out of here.

  Though he dreaded doing it, he knelt and lifted them up.

  He knew that it was a risk but something inside him had told him to do it.

  Their body was limp but he could just about feel them breathing.

  He struggled forward, supporting their weight on his shoulder.

  As he reached the door, it was flung open from the other side.

  Preacher Kelly stood there, confusion writ large on his pale face.

  ‘Thank God you’re here,’ Davey said, not giving Preacher Kelly time to suspect him. ‘He’s in a bad way.’

  He thrust the semi-conscious body into Preacher Kelly’s chest and disappeared into the smoke outside the church.

  Flames had already begun to consume the outside of the church, belching thick columns of black smoke into the swollen sky.

  Davey smiled as he saw the villagers flocking to put out the flames that were swallowing their beloved church.

  Their full attention was taken up by this, and he managed to cling to the shadows by the outskirts of the village green as they raced in with buckets of water.

  Davey couldn’t believe his eyes when he heard the squall of a fire engine’s sirens and saw the huge red vehicle veer into view.

  The villagers climbed out, spraying the high-pressure hoses into the air, aiming for the church tower.

  In the confusion, he managed to sneak out unnoticed, although he was slightly disappointed to see that the church was still standing.

  The fire at the church had been such a good distraction that even the bulldozers that Cross used on his raids and scavenging runs were left unattended.

  Davey smiled as he noticed that the keys were still in most of them.

  He climbed into the one nearest the gate and turned the key.

  The vehicle roared into life.

  He glanced around the area, which looked like a renovated junk yard.

  There were maybe two dozen of the bulldozers, their gaudy paintwork splattered with religious propaganda.

  There were other vehicles here too; cars, vans, what looked like an old coach.

  And it looked as though the fire engine had been here too.

  He thought to maybe disable the vehicles, to save them chasing him, but the crackle of rifle fire not far from him made him reconsider.

  Best to just get the hell outta here, build up as much of a headstart as possible.

  A bullet clanged off the front of the vehicle, making Davey jump.

  He looked up and saw a guard with a rifle high up on the tower.

  The solution seemed obvious; Davey simply floored the gas pedal.

  Aimed the speeding bulldozer at the base of the tower.

  The guard stood up when he realised what was happening.

  He fired a few shots but they bounced harmlessly off the dozer blade.

  Davey smiled and flipped the guard off as the bulldozer smashed a path right through the base of the tower.

  The tower tilted, falling forwards fast.

  The guard was splatted like a bug on a windshield.

  Davey glanced round and saw his eyes bulging out of a bloody, gelatinous puddle.

  Then he turned back to the road ahead.

  Serenity’s outer gates were closed, but were no match for the dozer.

  Grinning triumphantly, he set off back to the Freelands.

  Riding the bulldozer was a surreal experience, but not without its pleasures.

  Davey found he enjoyed piloting the huge vehicle across the decaying landscape.

  He drove past the Garbage Mountains, high up on the top of the valley where the creepy bin bag men had made their homes.

  He could see their outlines – like he’d thought before, once seen it could never be unseen – among the refuse and it made his skin crawl at the thought of what had almost happened to him down there.

  He was so intent on watching them sitting around their fire – he couldn’t see what they were cooking over the flames, and he was intensely grateful for that – when something small and pale ran out in front of him.

  At first he thought it was a child, as it had seemed to be crawling like a baby.

  He jammed on the anchors, not wanting to get innocent blood on his hands.

  Or in this case, his tracks.

  His eyes scoured the piles of garbage bags for the pale thing.

  He could see nothing.

  Rustling noises from behind the dozer pointed him in the right direction.

  He crouched and began to search more intently.

  After a few minutes of searching, he was amazed to discover what the pale thing had been.

  Davey’s face was coated with stinking drool as the dog’s dark tongue rasped over his cheek.

  ‘Duke?’ he said, in utter disbelief.

  He’d thought his buddy had been killed and eaten by the bin bag men in the Garbage Mountains.

  Duke’s tongue hung out and he yelped enthusiastically.

  His eyes were glinting and he seemed to be smiling.

  Da
vey hugged him in hard. ‘I thought you were dead, boy,’ he said, his voice cracking.

  Duke licked him again.

  ‘Well come on, let’s get you back and get you some food.’

  Duke once again showed his intelligence by nodding his head down at the half-eaten remains of one of the giant rats.

  He grabbed it by its tail and dragged it over to Davey, lifting his eyebrows in that curious way he did.

  ‘Ah, no thank you,’ Davey laughed. ‘That looks fucking gross.’

  Duke seemed to laugh too, but then threw the rat carcass into the vehicle and began to eat it.

  Davey gave him one more cuddle, not caring about the blood that was smeared across his coat.

  The wind was cool on their faces as they set off back to the Freelands.

  Things were already starting to look up.

  A huge thank you to the following people:

  Foxy, Mez, Pez and Chuckles.

  Craig ‘Baz’ Sheil, Crystal Stone, Lauren Itkin, Monique Lomino, Deborah Rewcastle.

  Your support means more to me than you will ever know.

  THANK YOU!

  About Jacob

  Repeated viewings of The Shining as a child have left Jacob with a love of the dark and the disturbing that really comes to life in his writing.

  He works to a soundtrack of blisteringly heavy music, and, like his beloved metal, his writing is brutal, uncompromising and intense.

  Find out more at Rayneofterror1.com