by Perrin Briar
The bodies lying dead at the foot of the bleachers were Dana’s yardstick. They were already dead, and there was no reason for the undead not to begin chowing down on them. They might not be their favorite food, but beggars couldn’t be choosers, and these bodies offered up no resistance. They were free for feeding. Once they were being eaten, and only then, would Dana and Hugo’s time be up.
“What’s the plan?” Hugo said.
Despite attempting to walk as quietly as he could, he was still ten times louder than Dana.
“Can you be any noisier?” Dana said.
“Sorry,” Hugo said. “I’ve got flat feet.”
Of course you do, Dana thought, rolling her eyes.
Hugo crouched down and stepped very slowly from one bench to the next. Silent. Much better. Hugo was overweight and lacked any basic motor skills. Add to that the fact he was flat footed and couldn’t run far or fast, and he was basically a walking packed lunch.
“How are we going to get out of here?” Hugo whispered. “I’ve walked around the place and seen no way out.”
“That’s because your eyesight isn’t up to snuff in here,” Dana said. “You wouldn’t find the way out if you didn’t already know where it was.”
“So you’ve been here before?” Hugo said.
Dana’s expression flattened and she pursed her lips. She’d said too much, letting slip that she had been to the detention center many times, enough to know of the location of certain unknown passages.
“No more talking,” Dana said.
Hugo, easily led as she expected him to be, acquiesced.
They got to the foot of the bleachers. Flies were already beginning to gorge on the grey bloated corpses.
Dana kept her eyes down as they walked along the bottom bench. Out the corner of her eye she could see the figures were now lurching, joints and limbs stiff, making jerking motions like Darren and Janice before. They shot glances at her before continuing to walk in their spiralling circle.
Dana got to the end of the bench. She would have to step into the crowd, walk counter to their direction, and round the corner to the bleachers’ underside.
Here goes nothing, Dana thought.
She took a deep breath and stepped onto the court. She stood stockstill and was for a moment incapacitated by the hot stink that assaulted her senses. The ripe fragrance of rotting meat washed over her and made her choke.
And right then, they were in her face, eyeball to eyeball. Literally.
Dana held her breath as the cloying stink, like a thick fog, pervaded her senses. An infected, eyes bulging and bloodshot, took in every inch of her. He sniffed at her, pressing in close, reminding her of a dog sniffing at a prospective meal. The infected gave a growl and turned away, losing interest.
Dana took a step forward and was immediately faced with another infected. Two of them. They ran their hands over her body, pulling back when they came to the bandage on her arm. They too continued on.
Dana took more steps, almost there now, before she caught the eye of another infected. The blonde woman clattered her teeth together and stuck out her tongue, dabbing it against Dana’s cheek, who turned away to avoid the worst of the slobber attack. That infected turned and disappeared into the white mist of light too.
Dana took a few more steps to the side, moving alongside the bleachers. She let out the breath that she hadn’t realised she’d been holding.
Hugo was shaking, like his legs were about to give way. Clearly he had received the same treatment she had. But at least she wasn’t about to wet herself.
“Talk about close encounters, huh?” Hugo said.
The infected hadn’t made their complete transformation yet. If they had, Dana was certain they would have bitten her. Or perhaps they weren’t hungry yet. Or Hugo’s theory was wide of the mark and they would never attempt to consume them.
It was a puzzle to be worked out later. Right now they needed to get on with the business of forming their escape.
Dana could recall with perfect clarity how she and her juvie friends had snuck away from the most boring gym classes, creeping behind the bleachers to escape the tyranny of the unrelenting gym instructor.
There was a certain level of calm solitude underneath the bleachers. The sounds were muffled, and you used to be able to hear the squeak of the athlete’s sneakers on the polished floor. Now there was just rustling, the feet of an army of shambling bodies, and a growing groaning noise that matched Dana’s sense of unease. It was dark here and the light came only in thin bands that slipped between the benches.
Dana moved to the back wall. She knew it was here somewhere, but couldn’t quite recall where. She ran her fingertips along the surface until she came to a sharp nod. She felt at the edges and found the square shape with a grill in the center she was looking for.
“Dana,” Hugo said.
For the second time since they’d met, Dana started, leaping to one side and turning so she was facing Hugo side-on. The stance she adopted for a fight.
“I thought I told you to be quiet?” Dana said.
“I know, but this is important,” Hugo said.
Dana supposed she should have been happy that he could move so quietly now that she could sneak up on him like that. But she wasn’t happy.
“What is it?” Dana said.
“It’s the infected,” Hugo said, and Dana could hear the fear catching in his throat. “They’re eating the dead.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
IT HAD BEGUN.
The groans of the undead on the other side of the bleachers was growing louder, rising and falling like a tide. And here they were, under the bleachers, protected only by a thin wall of dead bodies. Once the infected had fed and their hunger was piqued, they would start looking for something—or someone—else to eat.
And Dana and Hugo were the Special Of The Day.
“I don’t like being down here,” Hugo said, eyes shifty and wary. “They could come at us at any minute! We’re on the ground. If we wait up on the bleachers they can’t reach us.”
“Not at first,” Dana said. “And how long do you think we’ll last without food? Unless you want to eat some rotting bodies?”
Hugo turned pale at the thought. He jittered side to side on the spot. He wanted to run. Unlike most people, Hugo had only one option when it came to evading danger: flight. There was no fight in him.
The bottom bench shook under the undead onslaught. How long would it be before one of them caught sight of the two tasty morsels behind the bleachers?
Dana turned to the tunnel cover. She felt at the four covers and found a tight screw at each.
“Have you got a quarter?” Dana said.
“No, why?” Hugo said.
The why wasn’t important and Dana didn’t have time to explain herself.
“Search the floor,” she said. “We’re looking for something small with a thin edge.”
Dana and Hugo dropped to the floor on their hands and knees and scrabbled for something that matched Dana’s description. Dana’s finger caught something and sent it skittering across the concrete floor. It was small and metallic.
She followed her ears, following the sound, and placed her hand where she thought the object might be. She picked it up. It was just a rusty nail. No good for her purpose, but it might come in handy, so she tucked it in her pocket.
She continued her search.
“Wait, I think I’ve got something,” Hugo said.
He stood up and held what he’d found up to the slit of light. He peered closer at it, and then dropped it in disgust.
“Ugh!” he said.
“What?” Dana said. “What is it?”
“A used condom!” Hugo said.
“You’ll look like a used condom if we don’t find something soon,” Dana said.
Uhhhhhhhhh.
The groan, now fully formed, sent a shiver up Dana’s spine. It came from the opposite end of the bleachers, where it was open and they were exposed.
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Dana froze, keeping absolutely still. There was nothing preventing the figure from entering their space, absolutely nothing at all. But if there was nothing in here for it, then perhaps they could avoid it altogether.
Please go away, Dana thought. Please leave us in peace for a few more minutes. Then you can tear this place apart for all I care. Just give me some time to get away.
The figure peered into the darkness. If Dana didn’t know better, she would have said it was looking directly at her, as if it could really see her. Its eyes gleamed, reflecting the overhead lamps.
And then it began to turn, making its slow movement to head back toward the crowd of undead.
Dana breathed a sigh of relief. That was close. If they’d made just a little noise then-
“Hey!” Hugo said, pumping his fist in the air triumphantly. “I got it!”
Uhhhhhhhhh.
And this time the groan wasn’t alone, but a full choir.
“Got it?” Dana shouted. “Got it? Damn right you’ve got it! You’ve got a damn mental disorder, that’s what you’ve got!”
She snatched the coin from him and turned to the grate.
“Imbecile,” she said.
She held the coin between her thumb and forefinger and began turning the screw. It wasn’t perfect—the coin was a little too big for the screw’s slit, but by turning it at an angle, she could do it.
The infected ambled toward them both, shuffling on stiff joints.
“We don’t have enough time,” Dana said. “They’ll get here long before I turn all the screws.”
“So what do you want me to do?” Hugo said. “Freeze time?”
Fear had made him confrontational.
“Go distract them,” Dana said.
Hugo’s temporary confidence broke.
“Go what?” he said.
“Distract them, you idiot!” Dana said. “Buy me some time or we’re both dead!”
Hugo gibbered, shuffling his feet again, from one to the next.
“How?” he said.
“Lord, give me strength,” Dana said, shaking her head.
She bent down and picked up two random objects. A bagful of garbage and an empty soft drink cup.
“Here,” she said, tossing them to him.
“What am I supposed to do with this?” Hugo said.
“Make noise,” Dana said, turning back to the vent. “They’ll follow you and it’ll give me time.”
Hugo looked from Dana to the items and back again. He was tearful and afraid.
“Do it, or we’re dead,” Dana said. “Can I make it any clearer for you than that?”
Hugo’s lip quivered. He seemed to find some inner resolve, a confidence Dana didn’t think he possessed, as he backed away and approached the shuffling figures in their limp gait. Dana shook her head. He was a waste of space and would end up getting them both killed.
Dana turned the coin and another screw came loose. She pulled it out and tossed it aside. Two down. Two to go.
“Hey,” Hugo said timidly. “Hey! Hey!”
The infected turned to look at him, but seemed to sense he wasn’t a danger to them.
“Put some effort into it!” Dana said.
Her outburst had gained further notice than Hugo’s. Dana growled in the back of her throat and concentrated on turning the coin. The screw squealed under the pressure.
Hugo waved the bag of trash and slapped the plastic cup against the bleachers.
“Hey hey!” he said, growing louder.
The undead turned, grunting, to look in Hugo’s direction. They seemed torn between him and Dana. But as Hugo looked more like the energetic meal they were looking for, they turned in his direction. Finally, a little competency.
The metal grating groaned as Dana worked on the final screw, and then, proving too heavy for the little screw, the metal cover cut shear through it and fell the three inches to the ground.
CLANG!
The harsh metallic noise bounced off the bleachers and distant gym walls. The undead would have heard it. The soldiers would have heard it. The world would have heard it.
They were in deep shit.
Uhhhhhhhhhh, the wandering undead wheezed from their torn bodies. Dana couldn’t see them, but she could imagine them now, turning in her direction.
She’d just done something she’d have expected Hugo to do. A stupid rookie mistake.
Dana pressed the coin into the final screw and began turning it. With all the weight of the grating pulling on it, it made relieving the screw more difficult. But she kept at it. It was their one and only chance of getting out of there alive.
Hugo rustled his bag of junk and shouted at the top of his voice, succeeding in attaining only a handful of the closest undead to follow him. The rest had their eyes focused on Dana.
The grating creaked again. The screw was going to give way.
This time Dana was ready for it. She moved to one side in anticipation of the grate falling open.
Except it didn’t.
“Come on!” Dana said.
The grate didn’t budge.
Dana kicked at the grating. The cover creaked.
The undead were drawing near. Hugo was still shouting, but it was no use. They had found their next target, and it was to be Dana.
Dana wouldn’t fight them, not when it cost them more time than it gave them. Start fighting, and they would never stop, and there were far too many for them to face alone, at least without powerful weapons. Dana focused on kicking harder. She might as well be ringing the dinner bell.
The undead in the lead, the one who had been the first to spot them, opened its jaws wide and reached for Dana with its clawed hand.
Creeeeeeeak.
The undead turned its head at the noise. The screw snapped, spat out like a bat from hell, bouncing off the floor. The grating fell forward and landed on the undead, squashing it beneath its hefty weight. Its limbs were still moving, reaching and grasping for Dana, but she easily evaded it.
“Hugo!” Dana shouted. “Come on!”
The last thing Dana heard as she crawled into the narrow tunnel was the pregnant thup-thup-thup of helicopter propeller blades above them, and the increase in wind as they beat down on them. Dana’s hair whipped about her face as she crawled deeper into the tunnel.
Chapter Twenty-Five
BANG! BANG! BANG!
Smash!
The grate flew off its hinges and slid across the floor. It was much easier to remove this cover than the last one. Dana’s boots were perfect for this job. They ought to be, she thought. That was why she’d bought them in the first place.
Juvie was not a pleasant place to be. Occasionally you met someone with a chip on his shoulder and the muscle to back it up. If you didn’t stand up for yourself, you would soon find yourself at the bottom of the barrel. And being at the bottom never sat well with Dana. She’d broken in these boots by breaking Carlos the Punisher’s nose.
Dana wasted no time in pulling herself out of the tunnel, only checking the coast was clear once she was out. The corridor was empty. They were lucky.
Hugo extended his hand for Dana to take and help him out. Instead, she turned and walked down the corridor. Hugo pulled himself out.
Dana tried a door handle and found it locked.
“Shit,” she said.
She turned and tried another door. This door was locked too. There were bars over the windows.
“Out of one prison and into another,” Dana said.
“I much prefer this prison,” Hugo said. “It’s just us in here.”
Raaaaw!
The sound was distant, like listening to it at the end of a telephone.
“What is that?” Hugo said.
“Sh,” Dana said.
She moved back down the corridor. The sound grew louder as she approached the tunnel they had just emerged from. She leaned down and listened.
Raaaaw!
It was louder this time. There were loud solid bumps as w
hatever was coming up the tunnel thumped the sides and roof of the enclosed space. Dana kneeled and looked down the tunnel.
An old woman with long white hair and glowing red eyes hissed upon seeing her. She was already halfway along the tunnel. And she wasn’t alone.
The other arms and legs and swaying heads moved like a single creature. More were coming. A lot more.
“They’re coming up the tunnel, aren’t they?” Hugo said, taking a step back. “I thought they were supposed to be stupid?”
“It doesn’t take many brain cells to follow someone into a tunnel,” Dana said, looking pointedly at Hugo.
Dana moved for a filing cabinet resting against the wall. Push it over and it would block the tunnel, at least for a little while. Dana braced it with her arms.
“Hugo,” she said. “Come help me with this.”
Her muscles ached at the strain she was imposing on them. Her arms shook and her elbows stuck out to the sides.
“Hugo!” Dana shouted.
Hugo started. He blinked, staring at Dana. It took a moment before he headed over and helped her. Together they pushed the cabinet over. It slammed into place over the tunnel. The top drawer slid open an inch, revealing it was crammed with paperwork.
Dana and Hugo set off at a run to put as much distance between themselves and the undead as they could. Before they even turned a corner they heard the hollow thumps of fists on the back of the filing cabinet.
All the doors were closed. Dana tried them at random and found them locked.
“Stop,” Hugo said. “I’ve got a stitch.”
He slowed down and put his hand to his chest. His forehead was drenched with sweat and he gasped for oxygen, his face screwed up in pain.
“It’s no good,” he said. “We’re never going to get out of here.”
“There’s got to be a way out,” Dana said, casting around.
“It’s a prison,” Hugo said. “It’s designed to keep people in. Why else do you think the military chose this place to store them?”
