With him were Jerry, Danielle, and William. Emma, to her obvious chagrin, was selected to remain behind, but she realized there wasn’t time for an argument so she consented without a fight. Neil ran down the noisy metal stairs which ran down the side of the building and out to the street. Each metal step clanged out a song that he was sure echoed in the street.
“We run across the street and don’t stop until we’re on the other side,” Neil whispered. “We don’t turn around and lead any of those things to the others.” His tone left no doubt that it was a specific order.
Taking a deep breath and then exhaling it slowly, Neil stepped into the street and looked both right and left. Still nothing. He ran hard and fast, holding his breath and focusing his eyes on the Public Safety letters stenciled on the side of the mint green building in front of him.
The others were tight on his hip. Their group hustled across the street in a flash and into a nondescript white door.
Once inside, they breathed more calmly in the quiet darkness. They weren’t sure where they had gone; it was the first door any of them saw and so they took it. Neil and Jerry turned on their flashlights quickly, afraid of what might be lurking in the darkness.
It turned out they were standing in a garage with a secondhand ambulance parked in it. They allowed their eyes to adjust to the darkness and their breathing to return to normal.
Jerry asked, “Could there be any insulin in the ambulance?”
Danielle shrugged, though she wasn’t certain anyone could see the gesture, so she added, “I don’t know. I’ve never been in one. Worth a look probably.” Her words came out in a staccato stream of syllables.
They inched along until they were rounding the back of the blue and white vehicle. Neil’s beam of light lit up an open doorway leading deeper into the building. The air coming in through the door was stale and reeked of rot.
Anticipating company, Neil readied his aluminum bat and handed the flashlight to Danielle standing immediately behind him. He took a step beyond their group but still one step away from the doorway.
He couldn’t see much beyond the end of his nose but suspected that they were not alone. From behind him, he heard the ambulance’s back doors open and hoped they would find what Danielle needed. He didn’t relish the thought of searching through the darkened halls and rooms without knowing where to begin looking.
Neil peeked over his shoulder and saw William now standing behind him with the flashlight. Danielle and Jerry were just then climbing back down out of the ambulance, both with very satisfied smiles on their faces. Jerry had a new, very full bag on over his shoulder.
Jerry said, “I think we’re set.”
“You found insulin?” Neil asked.
“Oh yeah, and then some.”
Not taking his eyes from the doorway, Neil backed away. “Okay. Then let’s get while the gettin’s good. I think we’ve just about run out our luck for today.”
As those words were leaving his lips, a grim, spasmodic figure shuffled into the flashlight’s beam.
William backed up reflexively and uttered, “Oh dear God.”
Luckily, it was just the one coming at them but the closeness of the space around them helped create an overwhelming sense of terror. The wretched ghoul groaned and stumbled further into the room. Its eyes nearly glowed in the darkness and reflected back the flashlight’s beam. The thing was wearing a paramedic’s uniform though much of its right side had been ripped and chewed to shreds, leaving the uniform nearly unrecognizable. Its right arm, bandaged from elbow to wrist in graying, festering strips of adhesive surgical tape, was flimsy and partially limp.
“Shoot it!” Danielle demanded in a voice approaching a desperate squeal.
William didn’t raise his pistol. Neil and Jerry had other ideas in mind and since Neil was standing between the ghoul and himself, William felt obliged to watch the other two men work. The black man, standing almost as big as two men, sat on the sidelines and served as the spotlight man with the flashlight.
Neil used the bat like a spear, jabbing the end of it into the zeke’s chest and forced it back a bit. With the room he created, Neil leaned back and swung the bat above his head like he was chopping firewood. The blow found its mark, striking the creature on the top of its head. The entire left side of its head crushed, the walking corpse tilted backward and fell out of sight.
“Taking them on one at a time is pretty easy,” Neil said, “especially if they’ve been turned for a bit. The fresh ones are a little trickier because they move so fast, but we’ve been running into fewer and fewer of those.”
“They move quicker when they are bunched together,” Jerry added. “They feed off of one another. They get more excited...more agitated. You wanna stay away from groups of them if you can.”
“I want to stay away from all of them, whether they’re alone or with buddies,” Danielle admitted. “They’re just...”
“Terrifying,” Jerry finished for her. “Probably the scariest thing you’ve ever seen. Me too.” He closed the big rear door. “It sucks but the unfortunate reality is that you’re destined to see a lot more than you would ever want. They’re everywhere, and if you want to stay alive, you have to learn how to beat them. It’s either them or us and I’ve got no interest in being something’s dinner.”
Danielle asked, “So what do we do?”
Jerry pointed at Neil and answered, “What he says. He’s kept us alive from the very beginning. And right now, he says it’s time to go, so we go.”
When the foursome returned to the bar, they were pleasantly surprised to find that all the newly pilfered supplies had been packed into backpacks and other bags to be toted away.
“Okay,” Emma said. “We can get on the road now but where to?”
“First we gotta go get Allen and Sandra,” William said.
Emma asked, “Allen and Sandra? Where are they?”
“Sandra got bit by one of those things and Allen stayed behind to watch out for her,” Gus explained. “They’re in a building at the foot of the hill.”
“Bit?” Jerry said sharply. “When you say bit what exactly do you mean?”
Danielle’s eyes followed Jerry’s as he beamed concern to the others from his group. This was the first they had heard about Allen and Sandra and were especially alarmed by the fact that one of them had been bitten. They knew and Danielle was beginning to understand as well that time was working against them. They needed to get back to Allen and Sandra.
Chapter 14
Something...a sound...a spied movement...whatever, had attracted a group of the gray ghouls to the street outside the Anchor Inn. They loitered expectantly in the middle of the muddy, uneven pavement, hoping to sate the hunger burning them from the inside out. Their hyper alert senses sought any clues, any evidence to lead them to prey.
Peeking through the window blinds, William asked, “How do we deal with this?”
“There’s a ladder on the side of the building that looked like it led up to the roof,” Emma said. “If we could get up there, then we could go over to the ladder and get down to the street away from the zekes out front.”
Neil asked, “How do we get up to the roof?”
“Is there a way up to the roof from the top of the stairs out the side door?” Jerry asked.
Gus nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah, I think we can get up there. Let me go take a look.”
Neil said, “No. Wait.” But Gus was already opening the door widely...too widely.
Before anyone could react, a set of yellowing teeth forced themselves into the vacant space and found an inviting patch of flesh on Gus’ neck. The teeth sank into the warm, salty skin and were rewarded with a gush of briny blood. The thick red fluid spilled down the zombie’s throat like syrup, exciting it into a frenzy.
Gus screeched and tried to pull himself free but the snarling creature tightened its grip and drove its teeth deeper. Danielle watched speechlessly. She wasn’t able to muster a scream or even a peep as G
us was overwhelmed and driven down.
When Gus hit the floor, another of the gray skinned devils climbed through, content to join the other one in devouring the still struggling but waning Gus. When its eyes caught sight of the others starting to evacuate the room, the beast lost all interest in the cooling meal at his feet. It stumbled deeper into the bar in pursuit of fresh meat. Before it moved more than a step, another of the things was starting to press itself inside.
Emma responded the fastest. She raised her assault rifle and unleashed a furious volley at the intruders. Not all of her bullets were on target but enough were to stop the two focused on all of them. The other was still content to eat Gus and not bother with the rest of them.
Through the reverberating echo and ringing from the gunshots, Neil could hear the undeniable click and clank of footsteps on the stairs outside. Standing much closer to Emma and her rifle, Danielle couldn’t hear the footsteps, though she could feel a building knot in her chest.
Danielle asked Emma, “I thought you said not to shoot?”
Gritting her teeth, Emma shot back, “When they know you’re there and they’re comin’ at you, it’s time to take the gloves off and go to work.”
Neil pulled the trigger on his shotgun and hit the next one as it emerged in the doorway. The blast at such close range from his powerful weapon did amazing damage and with tremendous force. The mostly decapitated corpse was thrown backward violently, hitting and sending over the low metal railing the ghoul immediately behind it.
Neil shouted, “Go! Now!”
Neil and Emma backed away slowly, allowing the others to get away first. Jerry and William were leading them and were the first to hear and see the fists pounding on the already compromised glass doors at the other entrance.
The two men stopped for a second and Jerry asked hopefully, “Is there another way out?”
“I...I...I don’t know for sure,” William stammered. “There’s a laundry room down that way and I don’t know what else.”
“Go then! Go! I’ll follow!”
William ran down the stairs and then into a short hallway which led to a very tight laundry room with three coin operated washers and dryers. They packed themselves into the little room and slammed the door shut. William, Neil and Jerry maneuvered a washer and then a dryer in front of the door. They stacked the two appliances atop one another, sliding a third one up against the other two to add some weight.
Neil whispered, “That should hold them but how are we getting out of here?”
He looked up to the lone window in the room. It sat high up on the far wall and wasn’t really much of a window. When the pounding started against the door, shaking the appliances pushed against it, Neil knew they had to try.
Again, he, Jerry, and William moved a pair of appliances against the wall below the window. This time, the washer felt heavier and the dryer put up more of a fight. After a few desperate seconds, the three men stood back. The door was holding, allowing them all a moment to catch their breaths.
It wasn’t going to last and Neil knew it. He looked up at the window and Jerry, sensing Neil’s intentions, climbed up the glossy white Maytag slope. Though high on the inside wall, the window was at a very moderate height on the outside. They could and did climb out the window quickly, gathering out of sight and out of mind of any of those things.
They were out and free of any pursuers. The shop where Sandra and Allen were waiting was in front of them and at the foot of the hill. It was a short run down a gentle, grassy slope and then they would be there.
They rushed down the hill, trying to capitalize on their momentum. If they stalled, fear might cause them to second-guess their decisions and plans. They ran hard down the slope, all of them aiming for the front entrance.
Opening the door, they ran into the waiting area in the front of the shop but stopped. Allen wasn’t there and Sandra was no longer lying on the little couch. The magazines, once stacked neatly on the little table in the middle of the room, were scattered all over the floor. Something was very wrong.
Danielle thought that maybe Allen had taken Sandra back to the truck, fearing that the others had suffered similar fates. Then they heard a horrible, wet, ripping noise followed by the undeniable sound of chewing. On the floor leading away from the couch where they had left Sandra they saw some smeared, bloody footprints leading to the back.
With bats, an axe, and firearms at the ready, the group inched their way toward the sound. Rounding the wall, they came upon the scene. Allen was on his stomach with several engine parts across his legs. Sandra was sitting across his back chewing on bits of blood dripping flesh, which hung from her mouth. As one piece dropped from her teeth, she leaned down and tore another juicy morsel from the seeping, mortal wound on Allen’s neck and shoulder. A rapidly expanding pool of red covered the floor around Allen. The man wasn’t moving and didn’t appear to be breathing. He was an island of flesh in a sea of blood.
When Sandra realized she was being watched, she leapt to her feet with the agility of a cat. She looked at the others like she was sizing up her next meal and then sprinted toward them. William brought her down like a tree with Gus’ axe. The blade struck Sandra on the side of her head near her ear, sinking into her skull and scrambling her brain.
Sorrow filling his eyes, William said, “Allen was my friend, you bitch.”
When he removed the axe, the thing that was once Sandra fell to the floor without any further protest. William wasn’t done. He swung his axe again, hitting Sandra in her forehead between her still open eyes, the sockets of which quickly filled with blood as her skull, now with several fissures in it, came apart.
Standing over the corpse, they heard another sound coming from the back of the shop. With alarm in his eyes, Neil looked at Jerry and then at William.
Jerry said, “Danielle, can you take William and the others out to the front lobby so that we can get ready to move again?”
“I don’t understand,” Danielle asked, confused. “Shouldn’t we all—”
“Just get William outta here. Now!”
The big black man protested but he must have suspected Neil’s reasoning. He said, “No. I wanna say goodbye to my friend. I can’t just—”
William’s words were cut short by the sudden appearance of a confused, rage-filled Allen in the doorway. William smiled for a moment but then realized something was amiss. He was about to ask Allen what he could do to help when the other man lurched forward. William fell backward, trying to avoid the attack, tripping over a magazine table.
Allen was still standing and ready to set upon his friend when Neil swung his bat in the tight quarters of the shop waiting area. His first swing was off target, hitting Allen in the shoulder. It was enough to send the recently turned zombie backward into the working area of the business though.
Off balance now, Allen was vulnerable to another attack by Jerry, who used his garden hatchet to split Allen’s head almost down to its neck. Unable to remove the tool from the wound’s stubborn grip, Jerry let go of the handle and let both the hatchet and Allen, his head pumping out very red rivers of blood, fall to the floor just inches from Sandra. With his boot pressed firmly to side of Allen’s face, Jerry forcibly extricated his weapon.
Allen’s shotgun was lying across the table over which William had tripped. Neil picked it up and looked back down at William as if to apologize for taking his friend’s gun. Offering both his hand and Allen’s shotgun, he said, “We should keep moving while it’s still light out.”
William, confused about what had just happened and the speed with which it did, sat motionless. He was still processing and trying to wrap his mind around the events. He looked beyond Neil at the two corpses they had known as friends just minutes ago. Allen and Sandra were both dead and, in his mind, he had killed Sandra.
He accepted Neil’s hand finally and got back to his feet. He wasn’t standing for more than a second when he leaned forward and vomited. The foulness spilled out of him unti
l his stomach was empty and then he dry heaved uncontrollably. He finally stopped, a single long line of spittle dangling from his bottom lip.
He whispered through his surprised sadness, “I’m sorry.”
Chapter 15
Neil was unfamiliar with Whittier and the way in front of them, so he let William lead. They were running again, but this felt different. They weren’t just running for the sake of immediate survival. The sense of hope he was starting to feel influenced his trust in William’s guidance. He barely noticed when the air around them was filled with a very fine snow, like sifted flour.
The weather turned quickly in Whittier and always had. Clear skies could find themselves muscled from the city by gangs of cool, moist air coming from the ocean and surrounding glaciers. Rain clouds in the blink of an eye could displace the sun.
The snow coming down was light, but consistent. It was the kind of snow that would accumulate without anyone noticing until several inches were underfoot. Without snows like the one falling around them even then, the arctic cold in all its brutality would freeze the ground, killing all the dormant life waiting to emerge in the far off spring. It was the kind of snow that most Alaskans appreciate because it covers the dull grays and browns of the retreating autumn. The snow was beautiful and clean; it sparkled because it could and did.
The snow was also an omen worth respecting. Winter was here.
William thought that the emerging weather might be used to their advantage. He used to play football in Washington and snowy days always worked to his advantage. He tried to guess where that crowd of those things chasing them earlier might have gone, but guess was all he could do. He didn’t know if they’d eventually lose interest and then just hang around or if they would keep moving indefinitely. He didn’t know these things. He couldn’t predict their behavior like he could with fish.
William was a fisherman and had been for as long as he could remember. He’d worked big factory trawlers on topside and on the processing deck. He’d worked as a mate for a commercial fishing enterprise out of Seward and then got his own boat and had his own business. He liked the stares he got sometimes. He was a rare breed for sure. One didn’t encounter many black men in the trade. He always did favor being different and his choice of vocation provided him a lifetime of being different.
Alaskan Undead Apocalypse (Book 4): Resolution Page 12
