by Luke Duffy
The other bodies in the alley converged on the man and doll, and began to crowd around, staring at what they believed was human flesh. A flurry of hands reached out and began to tear at the toy and the corpse that still gripped it, as he refused to let go.
Stu walked by slowly, watching in horror as the doll and its new owner was torn to shreds by the horde descending upon them. Limbs, plastic, and flesh and bone, were ripped from their sockets as the mob became more agitated by the continuous cries of, 'Mama, mama', and newborn style gurgles and giggles.
The crowd of ravenous monsters growled and hissed as they continued in their frenzy, clawing and biting at anything that was placed in front of their mouth. Others became victims to the excitement of the moment, as teeth severed fingers, lacerated flesh, and bony hands clawed at the eyes and soft tissue of any that were unfortunate enough to be mistaken as prey.
In spite of the overpowering urge that he felt building up inside him, Stu kept his pace down to nothing more than a sluggish saunter, keeping his face to the ground and discreetly watching his peripherals.
Kieran, just a few paces back from Stu, kept a tight grip on Hussein, carrying him on his back, as the young Iraqi man watched in horror at the turmoil of the dead. Hussein kept a tight grip on his rifle, resting it on Kieran's shoulder and aiming it in the direction of the horde.
The four men slowly hobbled past at a distance of no more than three metres; close enough to hear the individual growls and moans, and smell the stench of their rotting flesh. Stu, Kieran, Hussein, and Jim, all fought against their instincts that screamed at them, telling them to run and put as much distance between them and the group of dead as possible.
Stu prayed to the Gods that no one became overcome by fear and bolted. That would attract every one of them and more from the surrounding area. Although his guts knotted and threatened to cramp, and every hair on his body stood on end, he was determined to continue in the same slow manner until they were away from the immediate danger. After that, his next concern was what was around the next corner, and which way they would go.
With Stan dead and Hussein injured, they had no choice but to head straight back to the safety of the park, but he had no idea of a plan of how to get them there. In his mind, he decided that the priority was to find a vehicle and be away from the main built up area, then formulate a plan and consider their next move.
Jim brought up the rear, protecting Kieran and Hussein from any attack from behind. He watched Kieran, as the weight of Hussein on his back seemed to take its toll. His hands were slowly losing their grip and his burden slid downwards. Any sudden jerking movements as Kieran attempted to adjust the weight distribution could attract the hungry eyes that lurked close by.
Jim increased his pace slightly, closing the distance between him and Kieran. He reached out and placed his hands underneath the seat of Hussein's trousers, taking his weight and allowing Kieran to adjust his grip.
"Slowly," Jim whispered, "pull him up, slowly."
Kieran did as he was told, and Hussein grimacing as he did so, climbed up the back of his human transport, his knee sending shooting pains through his nervous system.
"Cheers," Kieran whispered to Jim as he continued forward.
A loud resonating clatter from behind made Stu's blood freeze in his veins; he stopped and spun around, looking for the source of the noise and silently hoping that it was the group of dead, tearing into one another that had somehow created it.
Kieran and Hussein also stopped and turned to see Jim in a panic, as he reached for the ground to retrieve his weapon, which he had dropped.
"Fuck, God damn, fuck shit," Jim cursed through his gritted teeth, knowing he had endangered them all with his carelessness.
He scooped up his rifle and slammed it into his shoulder as he rose to his feet, spinning his body around and facing the decomposing swarm that were just a few metres from him.
They too had heard and seen him. They rose to their feet, forgetting about the crying doll and focussing their attention on the four men standing motionless and close by. They stood and stared back at Jim, their hungry dead eyes locked on him, as he remained rooted to the ground.
The group of corpses consisted of all types. Men, women, and children, in all manner of states of rot, watched Jim and the other three intently. Not all of them had full working senses, that much was obvious. Some were missing eyes, while others had heads damaged to the extent that there was no way of them being able to hear. However, as a group, they could hear and see together.
A tall, gangly figure dressed in the filth covered remains of what appeared to be a tracksuit, its face pitted with holes and its flesh a deep green, reached out and took a step forward. A moan of poignant accusation erupting from its throat as its bony claw-like fingers grasped at the air between it and the living human.
The rest of the crowd exploded with the same moans and immediately, they became more agitated and excited in their tone.
"Fuck," Jim cursed again.
He squeezed the trigger, the report echoing in the built up area as the crack of the round bounced from building to building. The bullet hit the tall figure squarely in the face, smashing a hole through its skull and killing it instantly. It dropped to the floor, causing the two other creatures immediately behind it to trip and tumble over it.
The other thirty or so ghoulish walking corpses advanced, wailing and quickening their step as they reached out towards Jim, who began to back up.
More shots pierced the air as Stu began to fire into the crowd, screaming for Jim to retreat. Five more bodies tumbled in quick succession, but in their panic and haste, Stu and Jim missed with their shots just as many times as they managed to hit home. Glass shattered and brick splintered as the stray rounds smashed into the buildings behind the advancing flesh-craving mob.
"Bug out," Stu called, encouraging Kieran to get himself and the crippled Hussein clear of the area. "Jim, move your arse, we're bugging out."
Jim turned and sprinted past Stu, following in the wake of Kieran who had taken flight at a speed that defied the heavy burden he carried.
Stu took off, close on Jim's heels, as they ran in the only direction that they could see was relatively clear. From behind every building and abandoned car, dozens of lurching shadowy figures sprang, all wailing and pursuing the living people as they tried to flee the area.
The entire town seemed to erupt with the wails of the dead.
Kieran was panting heavily. The initial adrenalin-fuelled influx of energy that was created by terror had burned itself out. Now, he was running on empty and his legs, back, and arms began to tire. His pace slowed as his feet slowly turned to lead and his lungs screamed at him for a reprieve in the tempo.
More and more moaning and screaming figures appeared from every doorway and from around every corner. All eyes locked on the fast moving, fleeing men, as they sprinted along the street.
Stu could see that Kieran was beginning to slow down and his grip on Hussein had slackened. Jim remained at the rear, running along and stopping only to dispatch any of the dead that he judged were too close or about to step into the path of Kieran or Stu.
"Kieran," Stu called as he ran up parallel, "pass him over, I'll carry him."
Kieran shook his head angrily and grunted as his thighs worked like pistons, powering him forward along the street.
"Just keep them off my arse," he gasped.
Hussein pleaded with Kieran to allow him to attempt to run for himself. Each time, his request was declined as the powerful young man adjusted his grip, tightening his hands around the legs of Hussein and drawing on all the energy reserves and determination he could muster.
"There," Stu called, pointing to a vehicle just fifty metres ahead of them.
The door of the driver's side hung open, giving them the opportunity of a quick inspection to see if it was still roadworthy and not waste time trying to gain entry.
As they drew closer, Stu realised that it was a police car
. Its windscreen was cracked and smears of blood coated the entire exterior of the vehicle. It appeared that the occupants had been caught in the open, unable to get back to the safety of their vehicle, and now their ghastly remains littered the ground around the vehicle.
Stu raced forward to the car, dropping another four of the dead as they closed in on him. Jim appeared at his side, wrenching the rear doors open, covering Stu and ready for Kieran and Hussein to pile in.
Stu jumped behind the wheel and saw that the keys remained in the ignition. He reached down and gripped them in his trembling hands.
'Please, please start,' he silently prayed before turning the key.
The engine clicked and the starter motor groaned. He turned the ignition again, pumping the accelerator pedal and willing the engine to fire up, as the starter motor continued to turn and grind.
Kieran was twenty metres short of the police car, with hundreds of bodies closing in all around him. His mind was in a panic, but his eyes focussed on the vehicle before him.
"Nearly there," he grunted under his breath.
His hands, unable to bear the strain any longer, finally gave out and Hussein began to slip from his back. Kieran managed a few more steps, and then he could hold on no longer. It was no use; he could not carry the human burden on his back any further.
"I'm sorry," Kieran said, as he gasped for breath. Hussein dropped to the ground, groaning with the impact as his knee clashed with the hard surface.
"I'm sorry, Hussein," Kieran repeated, snatching Hussein's rifle and firing at a number of approaching corpses with only one round hitting its intended target.
Hussein nodded, understanding that Kieran had done his best and could not carry him any further.
"I understand," he said in resignation, knowing that he was incapable of walking, despite the gravity of the situation.
"Please, shoot me, don’t leave me for those things," he pleaded.
Kieran fired another volley and turned to look down at the man at his feet. Hussein looked back up at him, defiance burning in his eyes with bravery that Kieran had never seen before.
Kieran smiled for a second. "Dick head," he huffed, "you think that I'm fucking leaving you here?"
Without another word, Kieran reached down, grasping Hussein by the straps of his assault vest and hoisting him up on to his feet.
"No chance. You're coming with me and you owe me a beer for this," he groaned as he strained with the weight of Hussein.
With an almighty heave, Kieran threw Hussein over his shoulder, holding onto his legs while the Iraqi's head and body hung over his back in a fireman's carry. With the last of his strength, Kieran took off, sprinting towards the static police car.
13
The high-pitched scream of the engine subsided and the rotor blades settled to a slow spin as the pilot closed the machine down and stepped out from the cockpit.
Marcus, Steve, and Helen, stood watching as she removed her helmet to reveal an attractive woman with shoulder length brown hair. It was not what Marcus had been expecting. He felt slightly ashamed for assuming that it would be a man, even though he had known female pilots during his days in the army.
The co-pilot remained inside the helicopter for a while before being prompted by his pilot to join her outside. Reluctantly, he climbed out, his right hand instinctively reaching for and covering the handgrip of the pistol attached to his leg. His body language spoke volumes of unease. He was obviously suspicious, and maybe even afraid.
For a moment, the five people stood in silence, eyeing one another and making their own assessments of the situation.
Kelly felt uncomfortable and regretted shutting down the engine. They were vulnerable and in unfamiliar territory, and facing unknown numbers. They had no idea of their host's intentions, and it dawned on her that she might have left them both wide open to an attack. Seeing the flare in the sky and comparing the interior of the walls to the outside, she had been overwhelmed with the possibility of finding somewhere safe, with real living people and without the ever-present threat of death creeping up on her.
Their base was safe from the dead, but it was far from being a place of tranquillity, security and freedom. General Gibson ruled the island with an iron fist and the entire population was in a permanent state of unease and suspicion. That was exactly how the General wanted it, 'divide and conquer'; he would always say when referring to the people under his command and so-called protection.
Before her stood two men and a woman, not exactly threatening in their appearance but one of the men definitely stood out from the others. Dressed in what she mistook to be a wetsuit at first, she now realised that he was actually wrapped in black plastic. To a degree, she feared asking why.
She looked past the three people and over towards the house. Dozens of faces peered back at her from behind the numerous large windows of the old mansion. Further up, and just visible over the lip of the roof, she could see two more figures watching them; at least one of them seemed to be holding a rifle.
They were outgunned and overlooked, but she did not feel under any immediate threat. She understood that people were scared and took nothing for granted when it came to their own safety and defending what they had built for themselves in the new world order.
They all remained silent, watching one another and waiting for someone to break the ice and begin the conversation.
The cold air caused goose bumps to form on Kelly's flesh and her breath formed in short rapid clouds that misted in front of her face. Apart from the sound of the gentle winter breeze and the distant hum of the multitude of dead beyond the walls, the silence was complete and eerie.
Kelly turned her head to her right and glanced at Joey for reassurance. It was hard to read his face or tell what he was thinking because he still had his helmet on with the sun visor pulled down, hiding his features and expressions. His body language was audible enough, though, as his hand remained hovering over the pistol at his side and his weight continually shifted from one foot to the other. He was nervous and ready to draw his weapon if needed.
She looked back at the three people in front of her and made a mental note of their weapons, still in the holsters attached to their hips. They did not seem to be in any rush to begin a gunfight and their body language came across more as cautious, not hostile, but all three of them stood ready.
The man in the centre, in spite of his dress sense, carried an air of leadership about him. His eyes bore down on her as he studied Kelly and Joey. She could see from the way he held himself that he was a tough man and knew what he was doing. He was cautious, but confident, and his posture was that of a man that could spring into action at the blink of an eye. If she did not know better, she would have guessed him to be a soldier with more than his share of experience in war.
The others, the man and woman, though clearly ready to fight if necessary, took their lead from the man in the centre, and continually looked to him for any sign of a change in his attitude.
Kelly decided that the silence had lasted for long enough.
"So," she began as she locked eyes with the man wearing the strange outfit, "what have you come as?"
Marcus was thrown off balance by the casualness of the question and looked down at his attire, feeling completely disarmed. He cursed himself for not having the forethought of stripping himself of the makeshift protective clothing, but in his defence, he had completely forgotten that he was wearing it.
He looked back at Steve in embarrassment and rolled his eyes.
"Uh, protection," Marcus stated, "what's your story? Why are you here?" he asked before the female pilot could quiz him further.
"You fired the flare," Joey spoke for the first time.
Marcus nodded. "Yeah, I did, but what I mean is, why are you in this area? Why is there a helicopter flying around so far inland? From what we know, there are no bases still in operation around here."
Kelly did not feel it was yet the time to give too much away of the reason
s why they were there. Instead, she wanted to get a feel for their new hosts and their intentions.
"I'm Kelly," she said, changing the subject. She nodded to the nervous man at her side. "This is Joey, my co-pilot."
"I'm Marcus and this is Steve, and that is Helen."
"How many people you got here?" Kelly asked, nodding at the large house and, in particular, the two figures she saw watching them on the roof.
"Enough…"
"Enough for what?" Joey asked. "You do know you're surrounded, don’t you?"
Marcus nodded. "Yeah, we know, but I don’t think they can get inside the walls."
Kelly shook her head and glanced at Joey. They had flown over the whole area and had a clear picture to the extent of the size of the mass of dead flocking towards them from the surrounding area.
"No, you don’t understand. It's not just a case of a few thousand hanging around outside your walls. There are hundreds of thousands of them and more are on their way." Kelly sighed. "You're trapped here."
Marcus stepped forward, nodding as he approached her. He looked over his shoulder and up at the house, waving to Lee and Jake on the rooftop. Both of them stood up and waved in return.
"Look," Marcus said as he drew near, "we're well aware of our predicament, but you say there are more of them coming?"
Kelly nodded as Joey began to remove his helmet. Marcus looked at him, fixing him with a cold stare that seemed to unsettle the co-pilot even further. He looked back at Kelly and his eyes narrowed while he scrutinised the two newcomers.
"You both look tired and as though you could use some food," Marcus said softly, alleviating the tension of the standoff. "You can come inside and rest, but I must insist that you hand over your weapons, for now at least. We have families here and I would feel much more comfortable if you weren't carrying the means to do us harm."
Kelly understood; she knew that they did not have much of a choice. If they refused, the people before her could easily kill them. She reached down slowly and pulled her pistol from its holster, handing it to Marcus and nodding to Joey to do the same.
