The young men's screams only abated at the moment of impact because they were disoriented, but they soon started again as the three zombies dove into the open vehicle and began ripping them apart. The scent of blood climbed up and hung on the humid air. When their work was finished, the three zombies left the vehicle and immediately hurried off, searching around like bloodhounds for their next target.
Sarah ducked down behind the mailbox and froze while she waited for the dead to roam by and leave her alone. She had never seen anything like it; these new zombies seemed more like Olympic sprinters engaged in an endless game of hide and seek.
The two victims in the overturned SUV changed quickly and they crawled out of the wreckage and traveled together as they headed off for the hunt.
Sarah kept her back tightly pressed to the mailbox, breathless.
When the dead were out of the area, she quickly hurried on, being far more mindful of staying behind cover and doing everything in her power to minimize her time out in the open. She kept her head on a swivel and as she got closer to Glass's compound, she ran into more of the same undead, always hiding and fearing for her life every time she saw one of them.
This was unreal; the number of these frightening new kind of undead and the area they already covered seemed too proliferated to have started from the killer eating his way through the training base. She knew this must have started from the mansion itself, and it was utterly horrifying. It changed the game entirely. Now Sarah, for all her training, experience and weaponry, felt utterly helpless if she were to even come across a single one of these new zombies. She didn't even feel safe anymore to make the trek from the house she and Wayne were now at to the compound and back. And even though they were now in possession of the cure to this maddening virus, she soberly realized the very real possibility that she would be dead before Ron could even tell her how to administer it.
Night fell by the time Sarah made it to the compound, and she would be very happy to drop off the note and get back to Wayne as soon as possible. As she made her way through the woods, she thought about David. She could just see the roof of the mansion through the trees from where she was, and she knew he was in there somewhere.
She felt helpless being so close and yet so far away. Her own mission still stood: get in there by whatever means necessary so she could either put a bullet in Glass's head or rescue her son. But having the cure to the zombie virus and having Ron as an ally on the inside changed everything; now responsibility was firmly foisted upon her again, and now she no longer had nothing to lose. In fact, she had to be very careful about the way she moved forward, having such amazing prizes on the line. So the note she held in her hand as she entered the sewer tunnel felt like the Holy Grail itself, and she treated it accordingly.
She treaded carefully through the tunnel system, feeling more comfortable to be in the presence of human soldiers than those undead freaks. But the security didn't seem to come too close to the edge of the tunnel tonight anyway, and she had no problem getting to the electrical panel and depositing the note telling Ron that she had completed the Eden Project and was awaiting further instructions.
With the note delivered, she eagerly got out of there and traveled away from the compound through the woods. She stopped momentarily because she suddenly got a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, but then the moment passed and she carried on.
Like the shadow stalking her in her dream, the killer stood next to a tree in the forest and watched her leave. His inhuman grin stretched from ear to ear and the moon glinted off his wide and hungry eyes.
Sarah ran up to Wayne and hugged him as hard as she could when she got home, so glad to be out of the gloomy madness of the night. He asked her what had gotten her so spooked, and she told him what she saw.
Wayne had missed this terrifying turn of events too, because aside from acquiring the zombie cure, he mostly just kept to the house and watched over her as she healed in the past week. He shared her similar concerns about how they would move forward, and though he had never spoken much to Ron, he knew that Sarah trusted him to come through for them, and so he did, too.
Later in the night, a high wind picked up outside and wailed against the house. The whole atmosphere of the night coupled with Sarah's harrowing experience made them feel especially close to each other. They went to the bedroom when they retired for the night, staying up and talking for a little bit. They snuggled closer as they spoke, and then the mood struck and they took off each other's nightclothes that they'd found in the closets.
As the moon came in through the window, they made love for the second time, and this time they could take it slower and make it more tender and meaningful. They were safe for the moment, and when Wayne's arms were wrapped around her, she felt like nothing in the world could get to her.
When they finished, Sarah was positively doe-eyed. They held each other and Sarah laid her head on Wayne's chest and listened to his heartbeat. It calmed her nerves, and she soon began to relax into his body like putty. Things would look better in the morning; she was sure of that.
There was a noise somewhere down the hallway.
Sarah and Wayne both perked up, hearing it.
"What was that?" Sarah asked, her eyes wide.
"It sounded like something falling off a shelf," Wayne said. He sat up in the bed. "Do you want me to go check it out?"
"No, I'll go," she said. She slipped out from under the covers and put on some clothes, then she lit a candle and stuffed a pistol in the front of her pajama pants. She carried the candle in her hand and cautiously stepped out into the hallway.
"Call me if you see anything at all," Wayne said from the bedroom.
"I will," Sarah replied in a quiet tone.
The light from the candle didn't illuminate anything past a few feet, casting the closest objects to her in an eerie orange glow as everything else sat in complete blackness.
The house was absolutely silent, and she almost wished something would make a noise just to break the maddening monotony.
She walked into the living room and swept the candle around, her heart beating rapidly. Shadows shifted and warped as she moved the candle, and she cautiously checked behind furniture and even in closet doors. She looked around the floor to try and find something that was out of place in case something really did drop off a shelf, but she didn't see anything out of the ordinary. She went and checked the kitchen and the front hall, but she didn't find anything.
Returning to the living room, Wayne called from the bedroom. "Did you find anything?"
"Not yet," she said. Their voices seemed very strange in the silent blackness. It was almost like there was no echo to the walls and as soon as their words were emitted from their mouths, they simply disappeared into the void of space, like the house itself was absorbing them... feeding off them.
"It sounded like it was coming from upstairs," Wayne offered.
Sarah stood at the foot of the staircase leading up to the second floor. The candle illuminated the first few steps of the maroon carpet-covered stairs, leaving only darkness after that. She stared up into the void, the house so silent that she could actually hear her pounding heartbeat as if it was a noise being made outside of herself.
With a very apprehensive step, she committed her foot on the stairs and slowly climbed them. Her fingers tightened around the candle as the light danced on the wick. The pistol felt heavy in her pants and her hand ached, like it was thirsty and the safety of the pistol was the wellspring.
Sarah reached the landing at the top and checked the guest bedroom, the bathroom, and the office. She swept the candle around the office, checking behind the desk and in the closet. When she backed up, her heel stepped on something.
She turned around and looked at it and saw that it was a little empty pill bottle that lay on the hardwood floor. She raised the candle and saw that there was a shelf attached to the wall right above the pill bottle with various other filled or unfilled medications.
&nb
sp; She felt a draft, and she noticed that the window next to the shelf had been left open a few inches.
Her heart immediately began to settle down, realizing that it was nothing more than the breeze. She left the pill bottle on the floor and turned and went back down to the bedroom.
"Just an old pill bottle that fell on the floor," Sarah commented.
Wayne smiled, glad it was nothing. He patted the bed next to him and Sarah happily put the gun away and blew out the candle, slipping under the covers and cuddling up to him.
They said goodnight to each other and fell asleep in each other's arms.
And underneath the bed, the killer grinned in the darkness.
17
CELL MATES
Blinding lights rained down into Sarah's eyes like daggers. She squinted and tried blinking to adjust to the intensity of them, but they were slow to cope. She tried to move her head left or right, but it wouldn't cooperate. There was something holding her head down, and she couldn't tell what it was at the moment. She tried lifting her arm, but she was met with the same result. It felt like she was floating in the air, but she was frozen as well, unable to move even the slightest bit.
When she got her bearings and it started to dawn on her what had happened, she realized that she was strapped to a hard metal table. She felt groggy like she'd been drugged, and her head was spinning.
"Wayne?" she croaked. Her voice echoed loudly, and she seemed to be all alone. She pulled on her legs and her arm madly, trying to free them, but they were strapped down tight. Her body began to shiver and she felt cold, fear snaking its way around her for what was about to come. It was that fear of the unknown; if she could put a face on it, no matter how terrible, it wouldn't be so bad. But when she was alone in a room, unable to move, and all she could see was the ceiling as she waited for what came next, it was terrifying.
The loud and echoing sound of a door opening filled the room, followed by footsteps. Two sets of them came inside and stopped somewhere behind her head. She tried to look up at the mysterious figures, but she couldn't.
"Wh-Who's there?" she spat.
Sarah felt the restraint on her head being loosened as the strap popped off, and she suddenly lifted her head and darted it around.
She was indeed in a small room with nothing but the metal table she lay on and the tarnished brown straps securing her down. She still couldn't see who was behind her, but soon both guards walked in front of her, one undoing her straps as the other pointed his gun at her.
"What did you do to me?" she demanded. "Where am I?"
The soldiers said nothing, remaining professional and just doing their jobs. The one who undid her restraints spun her around and clapped a handcuff on her wrist, securing the other end on the back of a chain tied around her waist.
The soldier held her by the wrist and turned her around, pushing her for the door. The cuff was tight on her and really twisted her elbow, making her wince in pain and walk at a stilted angle because of it. The guards stayed behind her and led her out into the dingy hallway lined with dirty white tiles. She turned her head and saw a door at the end of the hallway with a small window in it. Through the window she could see what looked like a much larger hallway filled with ornate architecture and expensive marble. But the view didn't last long as the guards shoved her along. They turned a corner and she found herself in a prison block with cells lining the wall on the right side. The door to each one was a solid metal door rather than bars, and the armed guard opened the first one and shoved her inside. They slammed the door behind her without saying a word and left her alone in the tiny space.
They didn't even undo her handcuff, and she was left to sit on a tiny bench in the four-by-four-foot cell with her arm twisted behind her back.
She finally understood that her wish of finding a way into Jack Glass's mansion compound had just come true, but instead of excitement, she felt sheer terror.
The time ticked away as she sat there, and eventually all she could hear was an imagined buzzing noise that rang in her ears. She stared at the door in front of her, peering out the tiny glass window in the middle of it and staring at a spot high up on the wall outside the cell. She felt like a rat in a cage, and she started to worry about Wayne, finally understanding just the tiniest bit of what he must have gone through being locked up in that military base. And now they were here again. The only thing she knew for sure was that she was still alive; there were no guarantees on Wayne. And to be fair, her own time on this earth was very questionable at this point.
But it seemed like she had all the time in the world to sit there and think of the most horrifying things, like what Glass was going to do to her. Would he torture her? Would he kill her? Would he experiment on her just like he had done to Kenny?
Soon enough her entire body began trembling and it turned into an all-out shake. Her teeth chattered and her bare feet bounced up and down on the cold cement floor. She rocked herself back and forth on the bench, trying to comfort herself and distract her mind, though each lean pulled on her twisted arm and caused her pain.
When she thought she had stared at the wall so long that she was about to go mad, a black helmet appeared through the window of her cell door. The handle twisted and the door swung open. One of Glass's soldiers stepped into her cell, shutting the door behind him.
Sarah backed away into the corner of the bench, raising her knees up in front of her to protect herself.
The soldier removed his helmet and held it against his hip. "It's okay," he whispered. "Ron sent me."
Sarah stared at him like he was a mirage, slowly coming down from her mania and back to reality.
"I'm Jeb... the guy Sandra's dating."
"What are you doing here?" she asked. "Can you get this cuff off me?"
"Sorry, you're going to have to sit tight for now. But don't worry, help is on its way."
Ron strode through the first floor hallway, heading for the elevator down to the lab. He passed the nighttime skeleton crew on his way, and most of them sleepily looked right through him. But Ron's mind was sharp, ready to go to work. As soon as he reached the elevator, a soldier walked up to him from the other end of the hallway, stopping next to him and inserting a key in a panel. The elevator arrived a moment later and the doors opened.
Both Ron and his escort stepped into the large space and the soldier inserted his key again, turning it and making the doors close and the elevator descend.
The soldier casually sidled over to Ron on the ride down and passed a note to him behind their backs. Ron kept his eyes forward on the elevator doors as he took the note and slipped it into his pocket.
When the doors opened, he exited into the lab as Jeb took the elevator back up. Ron headed for David's cell, grabbing a vial of liquid from a refrigerated cabinet and extracting it with a syringe. He opened the door to the cell and stepped in.
David rested in his sedated sleep from the gas that was constantly pumped inside, and Ron knelt down behind him and injected him with the needle. He patted David lightly on the shoulder and leaned into his ear.
"This will be the last one," he said, speaking so quietly that the transmitter behind his ear couldn't pick it up. "I promise."
A hard right sailed into Wayne's cheek, and his head rocked back. His body pulled against his restraints, the steel clasps digging into his wrists and ankles. He groaned as Glass threw another hook and hit him in the other cheek, knocking his head the opposite direction.
Wayne spit up blood on the floor in front of him, and he found himself right back where he started when he was captured a few months ago.
Glass smiled. He had his gloves off for this one; he enjoyed it that way. He could really get a feel for Wayne's pulverized skin and his broken bones that way. He had his mask off too, showing his bare face in the dim light hanging above them. He generally never took his mask off, always preferring to hide behind his skull face, but Wayne was different. With Wayne, it felt comfortable, even righteous. Wayne had been the on
e to give him his horrific injuries, so now it felt like coming home when he bared his flesh to his old brother.
Glass walked around and stopped in front of him, pulling his head up by his hair. He raised his other fist in the air and popped him square in the nose with it. Wayne's nose broke again and blood trickled out. He scrunched up his face in pain, squeezing his eyelids shut tight and trying to block out what he could.
But Glass kept his presence ever persistent, and the pain was real; Sarah thought Kenny's torture had been cruel, but Jack Glass was on a whole new level. And when it came to his old friend Wayne, he took things slowly and made them personal.
"It's so nice to have you back," he said. He placed a finger under Wayne's chin and tilted it up toward him as he towered over top of him. "You didn't think you could really get away from me, did you?"
"I swear to God, if I get out of this chair, I'm going to kill you," Wayne barked.
Glass laughed. He wound up his fist and punched Wayne in the stomach. He punched him so hard that Wayne vomited on his arm as his brain erupted in warning messages of extreme pain, causing a floating, dreamlike sensation in him. He gasped for breath as Glass stepped back and shook off his coat sleeve.
"No matter," he said. "We'll have plenty of time to work out the details." He raised his giant fists and gave him a three-punch combination, keeping the strikes at various levels of force and keeping him guessing when and where they were going to come from.
Wayne became disoriented and soon his head hung limply on his neck, his brain starting to shut down.
But Glass always dialed it back, knowing exactly where Wayne's breaking point was. He had enjoyed torturing him for two months, and now he was going to do it again for the rest of Wayne's life, however long Glass decided that would be.
Hell on Earth (Zombie Apocalypse Series Book 7) Page 15
