Purification

by David Moody

  ‘I reckon we should make a run for it,’ he suggested, his sudden positive attitude meeting with surprise from the others. ‘We should do it now.’

  ‘We can’t risk just throwing the doors open and going out there,’ Emma protested. ‘What if we get split up? What happens when we get over to the truck? Do we just stand there and wait for you to open it up?’

  ‘Worse than that,’ Juliet added, ‘if we open the doors and we all go out there, then that leaves this place wide open. We’ll have no way back if anything goes wrong.’

  ‘We need to get the truck over here,’ Cooper said. ‘One of us needs to get over to it then get it back here to pick the rest of us up.’

  The sound of the helicopter was deafening and seemed to be amplified at the bottom of the staircase by the long, thin shape of the building itself. Above the mechanical noise the occasional sound of bodies slamming against the walls, doors and windows could be heard. The longer the survivors remained silent, the louder the sound outside seemed to become. Although the helicopter seemed to be keeping some of the creatures at bay, its position next to the observation tower was also drawing more of them closer.

  Armitage couldn’t stand it any longer. He was generally a quiet man who was content to sit and wait and watch rather than act, but, occasionally, the pressure of a situation proved too much and forced him to take action. It had happened before back in the city when he’d left the safety of the university complex to help collect transport for the group. It was happening again now.

  ‘I’ll do it,’ he said suddenly.

  ‘What?’ asked Cooper, surprised.

  ‘I said I’ll do it,’ the burley man repeated before he had chance to talk himself out of volunteering. ‘Might as well.’

  ‘You

  sure?’

  ‘No.’

  Cooper moved forward and looked through the narrow gap in the doors that Armitage had been looking through just a few seconds earlier. His view was limited, but he could clearly see the prison truck on the other side of the runway where it had been left. It wasn’t going to be easy to reach.

  ‘It’s got to be a couple of hundred metres away,’ he whispered, still looking out through the gap, ‘and there are a couple of hundred bodies in your way. Think you can make it?’

  ‘I can do it,’ Armitage answered. ‘Listen, with enough of those things snapping at my heels, I could run a bloody marathon!’

  Cooper nodded and then started moving the tables and chairs which were blocking the doors.

  ‘When you get out there,’ he said as he worked, looking back over his shoulder at the other man, ‘you just put your head down and run, understand? Keep moving until you reach the truck. Don’t stop for anything.’

  ‘I’m not going to.’

  Armitage nervously turned round to look at Emma and Juliet as Cooper continued to clear the door. Both women tried to think of something to say but, overcome with nerves and emotion, neither of them were able to speak.

  ‘Ready?’ Cooper asked as he dragged the last table away. Armitage turned back towards the door.

  ‘Ready,’

  he

  answered.

  Cooper nodded. He took a deep, nervous breath.

  ‘Go for it.’

  Armitage pushed the doors open and burst out into the cold morning. The light which poured down from the helicopter and saturated the immediate vicinity was momentarily blinding and the unexpected force of the wind bearing down from the aircraft threatened to knock him off his feet. The suffocating smell of burning flesh filled his lungs. For a single disorientated second he stood still and stared at the truck on the other side of the runway. His view was relatively clear and, for an instant, the distance he had to cover seemed reassuringly short. But then he glanced to his left and then to his right and saw that there were bodies all around him. Some remained cowering in the shadows, others began to quickly converge on him from all directions. The sound of the door being pulled shut behind him - barely audible over the constant noise from the helicopter above - prompted him to move.

  ‘Shit,’ he cursed as the nearest body reached out for him. It’s hands were bony and hard with much of the putrefied flesh having long since been worn and rotted away. Jogging slowly away from the observation tower, and trying desperately to pick up some much needed speed, Armitage grabbed the skeletal figure by the neck and swung it around, sending it flying into a group of four more ragged cadavers and knocking them down like skittles.

  He looked ahead again and tried to regain his focus on the truck. Where before he’d seemed to have a clear passage, now a myriad of shuffling figures crisscrossed ahead of him. More vicious hands lashed out, one catching his cheek and tearing three long cuts from just under his left eye and down to his chin. Suddenly pumped full of adrenaline, fear and stinging pain, Armitage again forced himself to ignore the bodies all around him and keep moving forward. His mouth was dry and his heart was thumping like it was about to explode but he knew that he had to keep moving. He lowered his shoulder as two more corpses crossed his path. Charging through the pair of them he smashed one away in either direction.

  Almost halfway there.

  A heavy and unfit man, Armitage’s right knee was hurting badly as a result of the sudden stress he was putting his body under. He knew that he had no option but to keep running through the pain, but every time his foot hit the ground a piercing, shooting pain ran along the length of his leg from his knee to his backside. The pathways and grass under his feet had now given way to the harder tarmac surface of the runway and he knew that he had almost reached the truck. The ground was littered with the random remains of corpses which had been burnt or brought down and torn apart by others and he trod heavily on one which had fallen onto its back. His boot smashed through the rib cage and sent the rotten remains of internal organs flying in every direction. As he frantically tried to pull his foot clear he tripped and fell and in seconds bodies had swarmed all over him.

  ‘Fucking hell,’ Cooper yelled from the observation tower as he watched through the crack in the door. More and more bodies piled on top of the helpless truck driver, quickly burying him under a mound of constantly moving, decaying flesh.

  ‘Jesus,’ Emma wailed, looking out through a small window nearby and taking care not to be seen from outside.

  Cooper moved to open the door.

  ‘Cooper, don’t…’ Juliet screamed instinctively.

  ‘I can’t just leave him out there…’

  ‘Wait,’ Emma snapped. She pushed her face against the window. She could see movement from the bottom of the pile of bodies. Armitage was still fighting. High above him Lawrence had moved the helicopter round so that the searchlight was bearing down on him directly. The sudden illumination caused many of the bodies still lurching towards the disturbance to turn and trip away in other directions.

  Lying on his back on the cold, hard runway and struggling to breathe because of his tiredness and the choking, abhorrent smell, Armitage began to kick and punch out at the bodies on top of him. They felt hollow and cold and individually offered little resistance. He felt their decayed flesh dripping and dribbling over him and he could feel himself being soaked through by their vile discharge.

  The more they fought, he found, the quicker they deteriorated. He rolled over onto his front and tried to push himself up off the ground. Still more of them were clinging onto his back. He had no idea how many of the grotesque things were hanging off him and he didn’t care. He managed somehow to scramble onto all fours and then pushed hard and stood upright and began to smash the bodies away like flies. With five or six of them already thrown to the ground he found that his torso was suddenly free again and the only bodies still holding on were those which clung onto his legs. He began to move forward again, his powerful strides dislodging more and more of the pitiful creatures until his legs were clear and he could run again. He battered more of the cadavers out of his path before reaching the side of the truck and slamming into it.


  With one last groan of effort he reached up to the handle on the passenger’s door, yanked it open and hauled himself inside. He pulled it shut (severing a single arm that reached after him) and slid across the cab into the driver’s seat.

  ‘He’s in,’ cried Emma from the observation tower window. ‘Bloody hell, he’s done it.’

  Suddenly sensing that a way out may have just been opened up for them, the three remaining survivors crowded together around the main door and waited for the truck to move. Lawrence watched events from the relative safety of the helicopter hanging in the air and continued to drench the scene with harsh, artificial light, giving Armitage some welcome illumination and a limited degree of protection.

  Inside the truck Armitage was struggling. His eyes stinging from the smoke, he slumped forward over the steering wheel. Dripping with rancid blood and gore and soaked through with sweat, he fought to catch his breath and keep his tired mind focussed. He reached out to turn the key and start the engine but then stopped. His chest felt tight. He desperately needed oxygen but the deeper he breathed, the more smoke he inhaled and the worse the pain in his chest became. Beginning as an uncomfortable feeling like a localised stitch, it quickly became an uncontrollable searing, burning and ripping pain which started near his heart and which then seemed to spread out across the entire width of his torso. His fingers felt numb and were now tingling with pain. His feet felt heavy and he struggled to move them onto the pedals.

  Armitage again tried to breathe slowly and deeply and did his best to ignore the constant distraction of countless bodies which clattered angrily against the sides of the truck.

  Taking his time, he figured that the slower he moved, the more chance he’d have of getting the truck going. His outstretched fingers eventually made contact with the keys and he somehow managed to turn them and start the engine, pushing himself back into his seat with momentary relief and satisfaction as the truck rumbled into life.

  Progress was short-lived, however, as another wave of debilitating pain spread quickly across his chest. Groaning with effort he forced himself to concentrate on getting back to the others. He began to move the truck forward and slowly turned the steering wheel to guide the heavy vehicle back towards the observation tower. Still illuminated by the incandescent light from the helicopter, the truck trundled towards the building, mowing down those bodies which foolishly dragged themselves into its path.

  ‘He’s coming,’ Cooper said, still watching through the gap between the doors. ‘Ready?’

  Juliet and Emma nodded. Emma’s throat was dry and her legs felt weak with nerves. This was make or break and she knew it. Never mind the immediate danger they faced outside, what happened in the next few minutes would undoubtedly decide the direction and duration of the rest of her life.

  ‘What do we do?’ mumbled Juliet anxiously.

  ‘When I open the doors,’ Cooper replied, ‘you get yourself onto the truck. Doesn’t matter if you get in the front or back or if you’re left hanging onto the side, just get over to that bloody truck and hold onto it, okay?’

  She nodded and was about to ask another question when Cooper threw the doors open. The blood-splattered prison truck ground to a sudden, lurching stop just a few metres ahead of them.

  ‘Move!’ he yelled. He grabbed hold of both women by the arm and dragged them forward, virtually throwing them out of the building. Bodies began to surge at them from every imaginable direction. Juliet half-ran and half-fell towards the back of the truck, managing somehow to jump up and yank the back door open. She pulled herself inside and then reached out for Emma who was fighting her way through a dense section of the rabid crowd. She forced herself to keep moving through the tide of rotting flesh which pushed against her and threatened to swallow her up.

  It seemed that those bodies which had remained on the sidelines had suddenly sensed an increase in the level of their own physical danger and had forced themselves to move and attack before the survivors and their machines attacked them. What felt like thousands of cruel, bony hands reached out to grab hold of Emma. Unexpectedly her speed increased. Running into her at force from behind, Cooper shoved her towards the truck, wedged his hands under her arms and threw her up into the air. With her flailing hands stretched out in front of her she managed to grab hold of the back of the vehicle. Juliet was waiting. She caught hold of the scruff of the neck of Emma’s jacket and dragged her inside. The bodies were no match for Cooper’s controlled force. He powered through them and jumped up onto the back of the truck after the others. Hanging half-out of the open door he smashed his hand repeatedly on the vehicle’s metal side. The noise was more definite and controlled than the relentless battering coming from the bodies. Armitage knew it was his signal to move again.

  Forcing himself to rise above the constant, agonising pain which still crippled him, he accelerated and turned and drove out towards the gaping hole in the airfield’s border fence.

  ‘You okay?’ Emma asked from inside the back of the truck.

  ‘Will be when we get to this bloody island,’ Cooper replied, still standing in the doorway and holding on tightly with every lurch and sway of the prison truck as it moved across the uneven ground. From every direction bodies turned and stumbled towards the powerful vehicle, some being smashed to the side, countless others being dragged beneath its wheels and crushed into the ground. Ignoring the bloody confusion unfolding all around them, Cooper looked up through the drifting smoke and watched with relief as the helicopter began to slowly follow them away from the buildings.

  ‘What do we do now?’ Juliet wondered innocently.

  Before Cooper could answer the truck began to slow down.

  ‘Steve,’ he screamed at the top of his voice, ‘keep moving. For Christ’s sake, don’t stop here.’

  The truck lurched forward again and accelerated for a few metres and then slowed down. The engine stalled as Armitage’s foot slipped off the clutch pedal, the sudden movement almost throwing Cooper off the back and into the baying crowds. In the cab the driver’s hands and feet felt like lead now and he could no longer make them do what he wanted them to. He knew that he couldn’t drive any further. The pain in his chest was unbearable.

  ‘What’s he doing?’ Emma asked pointlessly as the prison truck ground to a final halt. She ran deeper inside and began to bang on the inner walls. ‘Steve!’ she yelled.

  ‘Steve! What’s wrong…?’

  They had stopped just a short distance from the downed section of fence. Even though the crowds were slightly less dense here than they were around the buildings, within seconds of the abrupt ending of the truck’s journey masses of rotting corpses were already battering against it’s exposed and undefended sides. Cooper kicked out at those which were unfortunate enough to stumble and trip nearest to him.

  ‘We need to get onto the roof,’ he said as he surveyed the desperate scene. From all directions hundreds of cadavers turned and began to move ominously towards them. The helicopter hovered overhead, it’s noise and light now attracting easily as many bodies as it repelled. Cooper looked down at the sea of swarming creatures in front of him and then glanced up at the helicopter again. ‘There’s no way he’ll be able to pick us up off the ground.’

  Turning round he grabbed hold of Juliet and pulled her closer to the door.

  ‘What…?’ she stammered.

  ‘Roof,’ he snapped. He crouched down and cupped his hands for her to use as a foothold. Groaning with effort and pain he lifted her up. With nothing on the roof for her to hold onto she struggled to get a grip and pull herself up.

  Cooper dug deep and shoved her a little higher and she managed to dig her elbows down and inch slowly forward.

  He leant out of the truck and watched until her feet had disappeared over the top. Moments later her head reappeared over the edge.

  ‘Okay?’ Cooper asked.

  ‘Okay,’ Juliet replied, forcing herself to look anywhere but down into the mass of rotting faces which st
ared back at her.

  Emma was next. With the nearest bodies just inches away from grabbing hold of him, Cooper supported her relatively slight weight until Juliet had caught hold of her hands from above and had pulled her up onto the roof.

  Cooper then turned and scrambled up himself, using the door at the back of the truck to push himself up.

  Breathlessly the three survivors stood together on top of the truck. Emma looked down at the relentless crowd of decayed creatures below her. Their anger and ferocity seemed to increase as Lawrence lowered the helicopter down.

  ‘Get in,’ Cooper shouted, having to yell to make himself heard over the deafening noise. Instinctively crouching down and moving on all fours because of the rotor blades which now seemed perilously close and the wind which threatened to blow them off the roof of the truck, Emma and Juliet crawled towards the aircraft. Lawrence now hovered just inches away, although the distance between the roof of the truck and the helicopter’s nearest landing strut seemed immense. Taking a deep breath Emma stepped across the gap and pulled herself into the back of the aircraft.

  Cooper ran down to the front end of the truck and lay down across the width of the cab. He dragged himself further forward and leant down and banged on the half-open window next to Armitage. He could see the back of his head. The exhausted driver was lying across the steering wheel with his face turned away from Cooper.

  ‘Come on, Steve,’ Cooper pleaded. ‘We’ve done it.

  Let’s get you up here.’

  Armitage slowly lifted his head, turned to look at Cooper, and then dropped back down again. He closed his eyes.

  ‘Can’t,’ he gasped, his voice hollow and hoarse and his breathing shallow and intermittent. ‘Can’t do it.’