The BIG Horror Pack 2

by Iain Rob Wright

  Cross was busy, emptying bottles of bleach and detergent onto the floor of several aisles, while Schumacher and Anderson attempted to block the adjacent aisles with pallets, cardboard boxes, and household stock items. The plan was to create a bottleneck, and funnel Mack’s men into one or two individual aisles, creating a kill zone. The cleaning fluids on the floor would hopefully cause one or two of their attackers to slip and fall, and would, at the very least, slow them down as they were forced to step carefully. The fumes coming up off the floor may also have the added benefit of blinding Mack’s men.

  Dennis was busy super-gluing nails to the floor and shelving units. It seemed absurd, but if he could secure as many nails in an upright position as he could, there was every chance that one of Mack’s men would plant a foot down on one of them. Every time Dennis covered a small area with nails, he would drape flat pieces of cardboard over the top, obscuring the hazard. Somehow the supermarket, that would once have been the epitome of mundane, civilised life, was now more akin to the booby-trapped expanses of 60’s Vietnam. The world was a battleground and all were warriors.

  “Hey, Sarge, take this,” Anderson came over and handed him a large chef’s knife.

  “He frowned. I already have a knife.” He pointed to the army-issue blade on his belt.

  “I know. But I thought we could use a spare to throw if the fighting goes close-quarters.”

  Parker laughed. “I think that only works in the movies, but I’ll take it just in case.” He took the brand-new tungsten blade and slid it into his belt. It wouldn’t hurt to have too many knives.

  It was time to wrap things up, bunker in. “Okay, everyone,” said Parker. “Let’s fall back to the warehouse. Dennis? How do you get up to the roof? It wouldn’t hurt to have someone posted up there on watch.”

  “There’s a ladder at the back of the warehouse,” Dennis explained. “Leads up to a walkway and the roof hatch.”

  “Okay,” said Parker, heading through to the back. “Anderson, you take first watch. Cover up with whatever you can and keep your eyes on the treeline.”

  “Roger that,” she said, double-timing it deeper into the warehouse.

  “What should the rest of us do?” Dennis asked.

  “We wait,” said Parker.

  ***

  Parker was about to fall asleep on the one of the staffroom couches when something caused his mind to snap back to full alertness. He looked around the unlit room and could see the soft shapes of his comrades sleeping. He could hear their gentle snores.

  Parker stood up from the sofa and listened out. He was groggy and unsure of what he had heard, but somehow he knew something was up. After years of being in the Armed Services, Parker had a sixth sense for danger.

  Parker picked up his rifle from where it was propped up against the wall and wrapped the strap around his neck. Then he slid out of the room and into the pitch-black darkness of the warehouse. There was complete silence in the building, but Parker didn’t trust it. He headed for the ladder at the back of the area; the one that led up to Anderson’s position on the roof. Parker listened out but could make out no sound from up above.

  He placed his hands on the rungs of the ladder and raised his foot onto the first step. He climbed slowly, cautiously. With each rung he rose up, he became more and more certain that things were wrong. Anderson was an alert sentry and should be aware of his approach. She should have called out to him by now.

  He pushed open the roof hatch and slowly rose up to see over the top. Anderson’s was lying prone against the far edge, covered by cardboard and some old tarpaulin. If he hadn’t expected to see her, he may have missed her completely. She was well camouflaged.

  “Anderson!” He called out in a hush. “Anderson, what’s your status?”

  No answer.

  Goddamn it. Parker shook his head and prayed she was just asleep. He would bollock the shit out of her for neglecting her post but it would be a relief all the same. He hoisted himself up onto the roof and kept low to the ground, shuffling forward on his elbows and knees.

  As he got closer, Anderson still did not move. She was like part of the building, completely still.

  He reached her and spoke out again. “Anderson, wake the fuck up!”

  He clenched his hand around her ankle, expecting her to flinch and wake up with a start. But she did nothing. He shook her leg and was dismayed to find no response. He crawled up closer.

  Then he saw that it was not Anderson.

  “Jesus fuck! Carp?”

  Carp’s face was a caved-in mess of blood and gristle, but the thick black hair was a dead giveaway. Before Parker could even speculate on what had happened to the Private, a bullet shattered the cement two inched in front of him, sending stabbing shards of masonry into his eyes.

  “Shit! Shit! Shit!” Parker rolled away, sliding his body back towards the roof hatch. Mack’s men had a hotshot, someone who’d been able to take Carp out without him even seeing them. The attack had begun. It was time for battle stations.

  ***

  Parker kicked open the door to the staffroom and shouted at the top of his lungs. “Hands on socks, off cocks! We’re under siege.”

  His men were immediately on their feet, well-drilled by years of midnight inspections. Dennis was a little slower, but also impressively alert. Parker spotted Anderson grabbing her rifle and approached her. “Anderson, what the fuck happened? Why is Carp up on the roof, dead?”

  Her face dropped. Behind her Cross and Schumacher cursed. “Carp is dead?”

  “As a fuckin’ doornail. Why was he up there?”

  “He said he couldn’t sleep. Came up to relieve me. I was beat so I saw no reason to argue.”

  Parker nodded. It didn’t really matter. Carp was dead and nothing would change that. He was a good man, but too many good men had been lost to mourn each one.

  “Shit, it should have been me up there,” said Anderson. “I should be dead, not Carp. It’s such a waste.”

  “Beat yourself up later,” said Parker. “Mack’s men are out there, right now. We have to take up positions.”

  Anderson nodded and headed out the room, back in full-on professional mode. Cross and Schumacher followed after her. Dennis looked at Parker with fear in his eyes.

  “You ready,” Parker asked the man.

  He nodded. “Everyone gotta die sometime. I just hope I take as many of Mack’s men with us as we can.”

  Parker put a hand on the man’s shoulder and looked him in the eye. “We’ll get them all, Dennis. They aren’t getting this supermarket. You have my word.”

  Dennis nodded and ran out of the staffroom.

  Two minutes later, everyone had spread out at the back of the store, focusing their fire into the bottleneck they had created in the centre aisles. Parker currently crouched behind a heavy, glass and steel deli counter. Cross had taken position in the alcove of the supermarket’s bakery, aiming his rifle through the bread shelves. Dennis, Anderson, and Schumacher held positions behind a barricade made from plastic-wrapped pallets of tinned goods: beans, spaghetti hoops, and other assorted sundries.

  The supermarket was silent as they waited. Mack’s men were not hasty or impatient. No help would arrive to help Parker, no reinforcements or nearby units. There was no reason for Mack not to take his time. He was no doubt out there, right now, planning his next move.

  Parker held his breath and listened harder. What was the holdup, though? Taking your time was one thing, but the longer Mack took, the longer it gave his enemy to prepare. He should have been attacking by now.

  “Hey,” Cross hissed from over by the bakery. “D’you hear that?”

  Parker did hear it. A far away humming, getting louder. A mechanical sound. Almost like a…

  Parker hit the floor and shouted, “Get down!” The explosion rocked the store at its very foundations, and glass, debris, and bloody chunks from the piled-up corpses from the front of the store filled the air and landed with the pattering sound of hailsto
rms and rain.

  “What the fuck!” shouted Cross.

  “They rigged a goddamn car with explosives; rammed it into the barricades outside.”

  “Explosives? Where the hell did they get ordinance from?”

  “Who knows,” said Parker. “It’s there for the taking for anyone who knows where to look. It doesn’t matter. Just get ready to return fire.”

  Mack’s men started firing their weapons before Parker even managed to spot one of them. The glass of the deli counter splinted but did not break – otherwise a bullet or two may have found its way into Parker’s chest. He clambered across to the side of the counter and blind-fired into the supermarket, hoping to buy his own men the briefest chance to set themselves against their attackers.

  Parker heard someone cry out at the front of the store and he couldn’t tell if it was from a bullet or if they had trodden on one of Dennis’s hidden nails. Dust filled the air and obscured vision beyond a few feet. Parker fired into the mist.

  More rounds hit the deli counter and Parker ducked down. He turned to his right to tell Cross to coordinate fire with him, to pin down the enemy.

  But Cross was dead.

  Cross sported a bullet wound in his forehead the size of a penny while the back of his head had exploded in a wound the size of a tennis ball.

  Parker shook his head and cursed. “That motherfucking sniper.”

  Parker turned to his right and crawled beside the deli counter. Bullets seemed to hit all around him. Ahead of him, Anderson and Schumacher returned fire as best they could, keeping their heads down and hoping for the best. Beyond them, Dennis fired nails from his power tool wildly into the air, sending shards of iron death in a dozen directions.

  There was a brief cessation in the firing and Parker knew that Mack’s men were reloading. He shot up over the deli counter and screamed at his own men to, “Fire!” He took careful aim down his sights and scanned the area as time seemed to stand still. At the front of the store, the dust was clearing and Parker made out the briefest flash of green material. He squeezed the trigger and flinched as he heard his bullet hit soft flesh beneath the camouflaged uniform of his target. The man hit the ground screaming, landing on the cardboard-covered nails. His screams got louder.

  “Man down,” one of Mack’s men cried out, and Parker smiled as another body hit the ground in the aisles, slipping on the bleach and detergent and then taking a bullet from Anderson while he helplessly tried to keep his balance.

  “Shit! Cooper’s down!”

  Parker’s men seemed to be getting the upper hand, but that all depended on how many men Mack had with him. Parker’s rifle ran dry and he crouched down to reload. He pulled a magazine from a pouch on his belt but frowned when he felt it was light. He’d forgotten that his current magazine was all he had left.

  “Damn it.” Staying low, he sprinted towards the barricade that protected Anderson and the others. They wouldn’t have any spare ammo to give him, but he could act as a spotter for them and try to pick their targets.

  As Parker neared the others, something struck the floor in front of him and rolled across the floor. His eyes went wide as he recognised what it was. “Get down!” he screamed. “Grenade!”

  Parker skidded to the floor and began clambering backwards on his hands and rump. Anderson looked down at the grenade at her feet and froze. Just when Parker was sure he was about to watch her get blown limb from limb, her body lurched forward, with such force that she tumbled and skidded a clear ten feet across the floor towards Parker.

  Parker shook his head in disbelief as Dennis threw aside his nail gun and leapt on top of the grenade. A muffled explosion erupted from beneath him and blood splatter hit the floor all around him. He was dead before even a full second passed.

  Schumacher came running up and looked down at the mess. “Shit! I guess he wasn’t willing to stand around and watch another woman die.”

  “We’ll mourn him later,” said Parker. “I promised we’d take out every last one of Mack’s men and I intend on keeping my word.”

  Anderson fired off another couple rounds and then they all huddled down. “What’s the plan?” she asked Parker.

  “We need to fall back to the warehouse. There’s only one entrance to focus on. We don’t have the ammunition for anything else.”

  As one, they moved behind the deli counter and shuffled towards the warehouse entrance. Parker ushered everyone in before him and then slid in behind them. They immediately made for the nearest stack of pallets and aimed their rifles at the doors, except for Parker who was out of ammo.

  “You fire on the first fucker that comes through that door,” Parker ordered.

  “You can count on it,” said Anderson.

  Sure enough, the first guy to come through the warehouse doors caught a fatal bullet to the chest. His body hit the floor already dead, and several more men spilled into the area spread out. Parker pulled out the chef’s knife Anderson had given him earlier and threw it with all his strength at the doorway. It struck a man in the face and caused a bad gash, but that was it. “Knew that shit wouldn’t work!”

  Anderson and Schumacher kept firing their rifles, but never managed to land anther round successfully as the enemy took cover. Then the grim click of their rifles going empty caused them both to take cover themselves. All three of them were now out of ammo.

  Through the doorway of the warehouse came Mack, red bandana soaked with sweat and covered in rubble dust. He had a military shotgun around his neck but was letting it hang loose with the muzzle pointed at the floor. He began to laugh.

  “Come out, come out, wherever you are. If you had any more bullets you’d be firing ‘em, so give up the ghost, my friends. We tried to take this place politely, but I’m afraid it has had to come to this.”

  “Who do you think you are?” Parker shouted out from behind a stack of Blu-Ray players. “You signed an oath to protect this country, not rape and pillage it.”

  Mack laughed. “Rape and Pillage. I like that. Like Vikings, yeah?”

  “Like depraved animals, more like,” said Anderson.

  “Ooh, a lady with a smart mouth. Looks like it’s our lucky day, boys.”

  “Not gonna happen,” said Parker.

  “Beg to differ.” Mack fired his shotgun and took out a chunk of the DVD players. Parker flinched and kept low. He made eye-contact with both Anderson and Schumacher. Both of them looked back with fear, but also defiance.

  “Look,” said Mack. “Just get the hell out of here. We’re not interested in you. We just want the food here. It’s ours. You can go.”

  “Yeah, right,” said Parker. “Is that the deal you made with all of the dead men and women at the front of this store?”

  “They were just civvies, I have no respect for them. The world belongs to the strong now. I have respect for a serviceman such as yourself. You can go. You’re man, too. Just not the woman you got with you.”

  Schumacher leapt from behind a stack of pallets and came at Mack from the side. While they had all been talking, he had managed to flank the man and was now lunging for him with a knife.

  Mack spun around, the lowered shotgun too long and cumbersome to bring up in time to deflect the blow. Schumacher swung out with his blade.

  The sound of gunfire in the cramped confines of the warehouse was deafening. Parker peeked around the corner in horror as Schumacher flew back against a stack of cardboard boxes and immediately started bleeding from what was left of his face. Beside him stood one of Mack’s men, a smoking sidearm pistol in his hand.

  “Who the hell are you guys with?” asked Parker, trying to stall for time. “All your weapons: shotguns, grenades?”

  Mack laughed again. “Let’s just say we were based out of Hereford when the shit hit the fan. We forgot to bring our beige berets with us.”

  Parker’s eyes went wide and so did Anderson’s. They were fucked. There were two of them facing off against a squad of SAS. The SAS were notoriously so tough that eve
n if Parker had a fresh mag of ammo and emptied every round into Mack, the guy would probably just shake it off and keep coming. There was no way to win this.

  Anderson spoke up. “If I come with you,” she said. “Will you let my sergeant go? He’s a good man and has helped a lot of people. If you let him leave I will come with you…willingly.”

  “What the fuck are you doing?” said Parker in disbelief. “No way are you going with that psycho.”

  “It’s the only way either of us will get through this alive. Besides, I’m already dead anyway.”

  Before Parker had chance to ask her what she meant, Mack answered the proposal. “You have my word. I’m not in the business of killing those who don’t stand in my way. As long as they let me take what I want. And having a woman come willingly sounds like an interesting novelty. You have a deal. Come with us and your noble sergeant can go.”

  Parker was looking at Anderson and shaking his head. She looked right back at him with fear in her eyes, but it seemed to be fading, becoming something else; consternation. “Just let me say goodbye,” she said. “Two minutes.”

  Mack huffed. “Fine.”

  Behind the stack of Blu-Ray players, Anderson moved up close to Parker. “Don’t worry about me,” she said.

  “Are you crazy?” he said.

  She pulled up one of her shirt sleeves to her elbow. “No, I’m not crazy. I’m sick. And I ain’t getting better.”

  Anderson’s arm was covered in a swath of pus-filled blisters. In the worst places they had come away to show weeping, raw flesh. She had it. She had The Peeling.

  Parker felt sick, but managed to keep his voice low. “What the fuck? You have it! But there’s been no new cases in weeks. The disease is supposed to be gone.”

  Anderson shrugged. “Guess it hasn’t finished with us yet. It started yesterday evening. The rate it’s spreading I don’t even have a week left.”

  Parker’s mouth dropped open. “I…I’m so sorry.”