The bushy haired guy shook his head and muttered something in Spanish. He looked nervous and if he’d been armed, I would have shot him on the spot. He had no weapon in his gun belt around his green camo fatigues so I waved him to the opposite side of the corridor. I pushed the guy in front of me forward to join his comrade and he raised his hands on top of his head.
I pulled the rifle sling over my shoulder and kept the Glock handgun aimed at the two men. I wasn’t quite sure what my next course of action was going to be. The corridor seemed to run directly between the rows of buildings, spiraling off into doorways every few feet. I heard talking from the room directly to my left and risked a quick glance.
A concerned looking militia guy with a shaved head suddenly loomed beside the door jamb. A shocked expression engulfed his face when he saw me and he reached for a sidearm inside a holster at his right hip. I didn’t hesitate, instinct took over. I raised the Glock and fired once, straight in the shaved head guy’s face from around a distance of three feet. The guy’s head burst in a cloud of blood as his head rocked backwards and he tumbled to the floor in a heap of twisted arms and legs.
The two men in the corridor immediately started babbling. I didn’t know whether they were scared or pissed off that I’d just shot their comrade. They both went quiet when I aimed my Glock at each of them. I felt my pulse beating in my head and sweat run down my back.
“Where is the sniper?” I asked. “The woman? Where did she go?”
The two men looked at me blankly. Of course they weren’t going to tell me, even if they could understand English. I watched their eyes but neither of them gave away a tell tale glance.
I took a quick look through the open doorway to my left, where the body of the guy I’d just shot lay. It was some kind of small operations room beyond the blood stained door jamb, with maps of the island spread across a table in the center of the floor space. Photographs of the docks and deserted streets with closed up stores were pinned to a notice board fixed to the far wall. An old fashioned but unmanned radio set, with a big chrome microphone sat on a table below the notice board.
In my peripheral vision, I saw one of the men edge slowly towards me. I spun around and motioned backwards with the handgun. It was all very well holding these two at gunpoint but it didn’t allow me to freely search around the buildings for the sniper. I had to either render them inoperative somehow or temporarily put them out of action. I didn’t have the time or means to restrain them and no knowledge of the building layout. I was going to have to let them go.
I backed up slowly to the door and grabbed the handle. I pulled it open a crack and waved the two men forward with the handgun. The bushy haired guy looked petrified and shook his head, muttering a protest under his breath.
“Go,” I growled. “Go out there and try and help your comrades.”
The sweaty guy dropped his hands and moved slowly forward. I opened the door and let him go outside. The bushy haired guy wailed and followed his companion through the doorway. I slammed the door closed and locked the heavy steel bolts at the top and bottom.
Now, nobody else could get into the building without the bolts being pulled back. If the female sniper was within the building’s walls, I was going to find her.
Chapter Forty-Eight
I stood in front of the door and listened for any sounds of movement inside the low ceilinged building. All I heard from outside was the screams of the dying militia men, the screeches of the undead and erratic semi automatic gunfire.
I briefly wondered if Smith and the boys had managed to keep Freek alive out on the gantry. It was a difficult enough task but with no medical equipment, it was bordering on the realms of impossibility. I liked Freek. It was sad to see another good person gone forever.
A scuffle of movement from a doorway further down the corridor to my right caught my immediate attention. I instinctively took up a hunched firing stance and edged further along the corridor.
A guy dressed in green combat fatigues, clutching a Kalashnikov AK-47 rifle and who looked a little like a young Fidel Castro scurried into the corridor. Before he even noticed me, I aimed the Glock and fired twice, catching the guy in the center of his torso with both rounds. He cried out and fell onto his back, the rifle clattering to the floor beside him. The guy floundered, coughed once and his eyes rolled upwards.
As I trod further down the corridor I realized the element of surprise, my advantage was now gone. Anyone in the adjacent rooms to the corridor now knew I was a threat.
I ducked my head through an open doorway to my right and saw a small store room, piled high with canned goods and bottles of water. Nobody lay in wait inside the room.
I moved onward, stepping over the dead Fidel Castro lookalike. I crouched and slipped the magazine off his rifle, tossing it through the storeroom doorway. I still had the semi automatic rifle from the first guy draped over my shoulder and couldn’t carry another loaded weapon. The rifle I carried was shorter and less cumbersome than the AK-47. I thought it was an Israeli model of some sort, without studying it too closely.
I threw myself onto the ground when a blast of gunfire from my right thudded into the wall behind me. I twisted and rolled against the nearside wall. The shooter was located in the room beside me. I sat upright with my back against the wall and my handgun raised. I waited for my breathing and heart rate to slow, deciding on my next move. I wasn’t even sure the shooter was the woman with a change of weapons from her sniper rifle.
Footsteps rattled over the concrete, echoing from a room in front of me. I rolled to my left and three bullets slammed into the wall in a diagonal line where I’d been sitting. I was beginning to feel like I was out of my depth and maybe taking on these guys single handedly was way above my limited capabilities.
I twisted on the ground and fired off a couple of rounds with the Glock at the doorway opposite. One of the rounds ricocheted off the concrete door jamb and I heard a grunt and then the sound of a body collapsing.
I tried scrabbling to my feet as I heard more sounds of movement from the adjacent room. I heard a gunshot but didn’t feel any immediate pain so I rattled off a shot of my own. I saw a blur of green and a guy rushed me, knocking me down hard on my back. The jarring motion as I hit the ground caused me to drop the Glock and it scuttled away over the concrete.
The skinny guy with a close cropped beard, who sat on top of me grunted and grimaced while he tried to point his own handgun at my head. I wrestled his hands away so the firearm was aiming towards the wall beside me. The guy gritted his teeth and yelled out something I didn’t comprehend. He twisted the gun in his hands and pulled the trigger. I jerked his hands as he did so. A shot rang out, the sound was almost deafening but the round pinged off the concrete floor somewhere beyond my head.
Two more people emerged from the room beside me and rushed by, muttering something in Spanish. A shadow fell across me as I still wrestled with the guy on top of me. I glanced up briefly and saw the woman aiming her sniper rifle at the center of my chest. Another short, stocky guy with gray flecks at the sides of his curly hair was busy unlocking the bolts on the exit door at the end of the corridor.
I looked into the woman’s eyes and saw no compassion there at all. Her round, tanned face was attractive enough but masked in cold, steely determination. She squeezed the trigger and I flinched.
The rifle didn’t fire. It only clicked empty.
The guy at the end of the corridor jabbered something and flung open the door. The sound of the melee outside reverberated around the corridor walls. My arms grew weaker while I continued to try to fight off the guy on top of me.
The short, stocky guy disappeared through the open doorway. The woman muttered something in Spanish through clenched teeth and then followed the stocky guy out of the building.
The skinny man started to get the better of me and the handgun slowly turned in my direction. I fought back, trying to twist his hands the opposite way but my strength was quickly evaporating. I t
wisted and writhed on the ground, attempting to shove the guy off me but he sat firm. I jerked my head to one side, away from the line of fire of the handgun.
We both made grunting and groaning noises of exertion but I also became aware of two other noises in close proximity. The rumbling sound of one of the armored trucks starting up was slightly masked by the throaty rasp of an approaching ghoul. I couldn’t afford to take my eyes off the firearm swinging dangerously above my head, even for a fraction of a second.
The guy’s eyes were wide and wild as he forced the firearm closer to my head. I screeched in frustration, trying to force the gun barrel away. Sweat dripped from the guy’s face and our locked arms juddered with the opposing directional force.
The gun barrel turned slowly my way and I knew I’d be staring straight down the muzzle in the next couple of seconds.
Chapter Forty-Nine
The guy on top of me almost smiled when he finally forced the handgun around within a few inches from the side of my head. His finger slid over the trigger in anticipation of firing the kill shot. I mustered all the strength I had left in my body to keep his hand steady, to prevent the gun moving that final inch or so.
I couldn’t hold him off forever and I knew I’d have to think of an alternative plan. And quickly.
My prayers were suddenly answered, albeit in bizarre fashion.
During our struggle, the encroaching zombie had shuffled all the way down the corridor towards us. The skinny guy on top of me suddenly realized the zombie was too close and now a danger. He tried to redirect the handgun to aim at the disheveled corpse closing in on us. I allowed him to move the gun away from my head but held his hand firm. He fired twice in rapid succession but couldn’t aim the firearm at the ghoul to gain a head shot. One round missed the male zombie completely and the other only winged the creature through the bicep.
The guy began jabbering, wide eyed. He glanced at me then at the staggering ghoul. I gripped hard, keeping his hands in place. He tried to rise and haul himself off me but I held him firmly in place.
The male zombie leaned down, the jaws wide open in an aggressive snarl. The militia guy wailed and then screeched loudly as the male zombie bit into the side of his neck and tore away a chunk of flesh. Blood spurted from the wound and splashed down the guy’s shoulder. I was getting covered in the red stuff but I did feel the militia guy’s grip go limp around the handgun.
The male zombie munched on his fleshy morsel before stooping down for another bite. The militia guy thrashed around in pain, trying to release my grip. The ghoul latched onto him again, gnawing at the bloody mess at the side of the guy’s neck. The militia guy screamed and the zombie wrapped its arms around the top of his head, pulling him sideways.
I pushed the militia guy off me and struggled to get to my feet. I crouched and picked up the Glock handgun. I turned and aimed at the militia guy who was crying in pain and attempting to free himself from the zombie’s grip. I was going to put him out of his misery but decided against it.
“No, fuck you,” I callously spat.
I turned to the doorway and saw two more zombies, a bald male and a dark skinned female bundle through the entrance. I hardly had the strength in my arm to raise the handgun but somehow managed it. I fired twice, each a head shot and dropping the two zombies where they stood.
Another male zombie, dressed in ragged beach clothes and with a mop of thick blond hair staggered through the doorway behind the two fallen corpses. I aimed and squeezed the trigger again but the Glock clicked empty.
“Shit,” I grunted and swung the rifle around from my back.
I flinched as another gunshot rang out, echoing through the corridor. The round hadn’t hit me. Somebody had shot the beach bum zombie in front of me. The ghoul rocked forward and sunk to his knees before toppling over on top of the other two dead zombies. A tall militia guy with a hooked nose and homicidal expression on his face stepped through the doorway. The zombie’s bodies blocked the entranceway so I couldn’t close the door without moving the corpses.
The militia guy took one glance at me and aimed his assault rifle in my direction. I instantly recoiled backward and pulled the trigger on the rifle I held. The weapon didn’t fire and I heard several gunshots echo through the corridor. Once again I flinched, expecting to be leaking blood and feeling the effects of pieces of metal ripping through my body. Strangely, I felt no pain and saw no blood.
Blood seeped from the tall militia guy’s mouth and he stumbled forward towards me, his rifle sagging in his grasp. I stepped backwards out of his way and he slumped face first onto the ground. I noticed several gunshot wounds in his back with smoke still rising from the reddened holes.
I glanced back to the doorway and saw a figure emerging from the shadows. I gasped and fiddled with the rifle, realizing it wasn’t cocked.
“Whoa, easy there, cowboy,” a voice said.
Smith came forward through the doorway, kicking the militia guy’s body out of the way. I felt as though I’d never been more pleased to see him in my life. He aimed his rifle at the zombie who was still munching on the corpse of the skinny guy who’d tried to shoot me.
“Save your ammo,” I said. The zombie was preoccupied with eating his victim in one sitting. “Did Freek make it?”
Smith looked downward and shook his head.
“Shit,” I muttered but I wasn’t surprised. “The sniper got away.”
Smith nodded. “I know. I saw her and another guy jump into one of those trucks and head on out of here. I came on down here because I figured you were in a bit of trouble.”
I sighed and nodded. “You were right. I almost got killed about a million times. I tried my best but I couldn’t stop her escaping. Sorry about that.”
“Don’t worry about it, kid. We’ll catch up with her soon enough,” Smith said, clapping a reassuring hand on my shoulder. “Right now we have to make sure that this place is clear of these fucking militia guys so McElroy can start sending over a few boat parties ashore.”
“You think it’ll be safe to land on the island?” I asked.
“Mac and a few heavily armed guys will be okay. They could boat over under the cover of darkness and give us a hand clearing up the rest of these militia assholes and wiping out the remaining zombies.”
“How are we going to tell them?”
Smith nodded out through the doorway. “We can use one of those searchlights to send a message in Morse code. We know somebody onboard can read it. I’m a little rusty but I think I can still send a message.”
I nodded. “Okay, Smith. It’s a good shout. We could certainly use a hand out here. How are Lowie and the others bearing up?”
Smith flashed me a worried glance. “Not good. I think they got too used to living the good life underground in that damn cellar.”
“Yeah,” I sighed. “They seem a little detracted. Maybe we should have left them where they were.”
Smith shrugged. “Too late now, kid. Come on. Let’s get back on up there.”
We reloaded our respective weapons and I slung the rifle around my back. Smith glanced through the doorway to check the coast was clear.
“Climb up onto the roof of the truck and we can reach the upper level,” he instructed. “Ready to rumble?”
“Hold on a moment,” I said.
I darted down the corridor, avoiding the zombie who was busy tearing out the skinny guy’s intestines. I hurried into the room where the female sniper had been hiding. It was another small, dingy office and I saw a white metal cabinet on the wall. I moved quickly to the cabinet and opened it. A set of vehicle keys hung from a hook inside, which presumably were for the remaining truck inside the castle compound. I grabbed the keys and shoved them in my cargo pants pocket.
Smith was waiting by the door when I returned to the corridor. The door was only open a crack and he was staring through the gap with his rifle lowered but held firmly into his shoulder. He turned to look at me as I approached. I pulled the keys out of my poc
ket, held them up so he could see and jangled them a few feet in front of his face.
“Thought we might need a getaway vehicle.”
Smith nodded then jerked his head towards the doorway. “We’re going to have to be real quick on our toes out there,” he said. “There are zombies all over the place and those militia guys are getting kind of edgy and real trigger happy.”
“Can’t say I blame them,” I muttered. “Have many of them got away?”
Smith shook his head. “It’s hard to tell. It’s total fucking chaos out there.”
“It’s total fucking chaos everywhere, man.”
Smith nodded his head. “Amen to that. You ready?”
“Ready as I’ll ever be.”
Smith kicked open the door and moved quickly outside. I followed and was immediately confronted by sounds of rattling gunfire, screams and yells of the undead and dying, the stench of smoke and blood and pandemonium.
“Jesus Christ!” I yelled.
Smith fired a quick burst at a couple of zombies lumbering too close for comfort. “Don’t stop, keep moving,” he shouted.
We ran around to the back of the truck. The vehicle’s tailgate was steeped in shadow and a few feet from the castle’s rear wall. Smith held his rifle one handed and tapped a ladder attached to the rear of the truck. I glanced up and saw the ladder provided access to the vehicle’s roof.
“You go on up,” Smith shouted.
I didn’t argue. I slipped the Glock into the back of my waistband and hurried up the ladder. I thudded along the roof on all fours, allowing Smith some room to climb up. I glanced out over the inner castle compound and my stomach turned over. The whole place was almost overrun with swarms of undead. For all of us to get out of the castle in one piece was going to be one hell of an operation.
The Left Series (Book 6): Left On An Island Page 21
