Horror Within : 8 Book Boxed Set

by Mark Tufo

  John had an arrow notched and ready to fire. As they drew closer he put it away and drew his knife again. Darlene had the machete out.

  They moved in opposite directions to get around the squad car. Both doors were opened, which wasn’t a good sign. Darlene checked the woods one more time. Empty. Quiet. The hair on the back of her neck rose like in a bad horror movie. She wanted to throw up as she rounded the car and leveled the machete at the open door.

  John was on the other side, but there was no one in the car. No blood, no gore, no body parts. “Shotgun,” he said and climbed into the passenger side. “And a box of shells. Sweet.”

  Darlene relaxed and leaned against the car. “Now what?”

  “The keys are in it.”

  “So?”

  “So we drive this baby as far back as we can and then go home. It’s been too long since I’ve driven one.”

  “Who says you can drive?” Darlene went to climb into the car but John was already in the driver’s seat and smiling. He turned the key and it began to click.

  “So much for that idea.”

  “Not really. It isn’t completely dead. I bet I can get her started. She’s been sitting out here for months.” John popped the hood and got out. “Get in and I’ll tell you when to start it.”

  Darlene jumped in. “Sure, but don’t expect me to move over. I’m the driver, I own the road.”

  John laughed and raised the hood, peering around it at Darlene. “Don’t do anything until I tell you.”

  “You got it.” Darlene could hear a crow in the distance. She wondered why animals hadn’t been affected by the virus, or the plague, or whatever this really was. Maybe Murph knew the answer. She had so many questions for him but never found the time to ask, too content to sit and relax and watch movies.

  The last three days had been the best days in too long, sharing conversation, food and company with another human being. Darlene wondered how many days, weeks or even months between actual conversations she’d had. Besides whispering to herself, of course. “I wonder if I’m crazy,” she murmured.

  “What?” John asked from under the hood. “Did you say something?”

  “Just wondering what’s taking so damn long.”

  “Give me a second. Patience is a virtue.”

  Darlene laughed. “Whatever.”

  John poked his head around the hood and grinned. “Try it.”

  Darlene turned the key and the car hesitated, trying to turn over. For a second she thought it would but it went back to clicking.

  “The belt is loose. Without tools I can’t fix it. Pop the trunk.” John went around and fished through the trunk. “He actually had tools.”

  “Is that a big deal?” Darlene asked, getting out and stretching her legs. A quick look around told her they were still alone.

  “For a cop car? Hell yeah. Everyone knows that you don’t leave shit in a cop car, especially personal items.” John slid under the front of the car.

  “Cops stealing from cops. What’s wrong with that picture?”

  “That’s reality sometimes. You can’t trust anyone,” John said.

  Darlene got back in and sat down, rubbing her eyes. It was hot today, like every other Florida day. She started to hum a Tori Amos tune and wondered if Tori was wandering around California or New York trying to eat people.

  “Try it again.”

  Darlene turned the key. The engine stuttered but then roared to life.

  “Told you I could do it,” John said and slammed the hood closed. “Move over, I’m driving.”

  “John, get in the car. Now.”

  “Not until you move over.”

  “Get in the fucking car.” Darlene drew her Desert Eagle and fired just over John’s shoulder.

  John turned just as seven zombies came within ten feet of them. A glance in the rearview mirror and Darlene held her breath. There were ten coming up behind her and more wandering in from the woods.

  Twelve

  The first zombie Darlene slammed into with the car landed on the hood. Darlene screamed and pissed herself.

  “Left! Left!” John yelled. “Shoot for that gap.”

  Route 1 was flooded with slow-moving undead, obstacles drawn to the speeding car. She was only doing thirty as she hit the second and third and forth, the car fishtailing as she bump-bumped over the bodies. Unlike movies, hitting them was slowing her down and she knew it was only a matter of time before she lost control of the car and ended up in a ditch.

  They appeared like ants from either side of the road, an endless stream of corpses. Darlene wondered aloud why there were so many.

  “We’re close to the outskirts of St. Augustine right now. We’re trapped between the barriers of the city and these creatures now. There might be hundreds, thousands of them out here.” John wiped sweat from his brow. “Just keep driving.”

  Darlene hit another two zombies, two smaller children, and felt the car lurch to her right. She overcorrected and the car spun out. Her chest slammed into the steering wheel, jarring her.

  “Are you alright?” John asked.

  “Sure.” She lifted her gun and pulled the trigger, just in front of his face, as John covered his ears. The shot, through the opened passenger window, missed her mark. “You drive.”

  “What?”

  Darlene got out of the car, firing at anything close enough to get to them. She ran around the car and slipped into the passenger side. John slid over the seat, threw the car in gear and floored it, immediately running over three undead.

  A mile away, after barreling through ten more undead blocking the path, the road opened up. Single stray zombies crossed their path and it was easy for John to skirt around them.

  “Up ahead is the 207 bridge. We should cross back over there instead of running north into another cluster of them,” John said. “It feels good to drive again.”

  “Yeah, the three minutes I drove were exciting.” Darlene laughed. “My hands are shaking.”

  “My hands always shake, if that’s any consolation.”

  They turned onto Route 207, the gas station and restaurant a smoldering pile of rubble at the entrance. Zombies lurched around the structures but they were too far away to be a threat.

  “We need to be very careful when we get out.”

  “Why are we getting out?” Darlene asked but then saw why. The 207 bridge had been barricaded on this side with a pile of damaged cars, a makeshift fence of wood and metal, and chunks of cement.

  John parked right in front of the barrier. “Watch either side when we get out.”

  They emerged and went to the wall, John searching frantically. “There’s a path hidden up here somewhere. I was told that once you get onto the bridge you can safely cross.”

  A fence had also been erected to either side of the bridge, following the waterline. Zombies were pulling themselves from the water and throwing themselves against the hurdle.

  Darlene trained her Desert Eagle on the road they’d just come from, but it was empty. So far so good. With any luck we’ll be across and closer to home before they come. Darlene didn’t like the fact that trees covered both sides of the road. There could be a horde a few feet away and she wouldn’t know it. She checked her ammo. Murph had surprised her with two clips for the Desert Eagle, for which she was grateful.

  “I think I found it.”

  “It’s about time,” Darlene said sarcastically. Every second out here, exposed with their backs to the proverbial wall was a mistake. “Lead the way.”

  “I just need to push this block out of the way. You can see the path behind it. I think I need your help,” John said.

  Darlene glanced down the road one more time and did a double-take. “They’re here.”

  A score of zombies had emerged from the left side of the road, pushing through the underbrush and from between the trees. Further down, near the turnoff to 207, she could see a dozen more catching up.

  “We have about five minutes before we’re attacked, j
ust so you know.” Darlene didn’t want to start shooting and draw more attention to them. Five more undead appeared from the other side of the road and started toward them. “Talk to me.”

  “I can’t get it.” John was sweating as he tugged on the cement block barring their path. “You need to help me.”

  “I think you need to help me. They’re getting too close.” Before Darlene could point and fire John was already moving past her with an arrow notched to the bow.

  The two closest zombies were put down in quick succession. “Don’t fire unless they get within six feet of me. I can take them out at a farther range. Just feed me arrows until we can clear a zone.”

  John began cutting them down, bombarding the undead with arrows to the head. Darlene had to admit that she was impressed. One came from their left and almost got to them before Darlene saw him and put the Desert Eagle almost to his forehead before shooting.

  “That was too close for comfort,” she said.

  “I agree.” John had cleared them within twenty feet but more now stalked from the woods. “There might be a hundred. I don’t have enough arrows and you don’t have enough bullets.”

  “What do we do?”

  “Start shooting. If we can clear them another twenty feet we might have time to get the cement moved.”

  “I hope so.” Darlene began picking them off, concentrating on the left-hand side while John went to work on the right.

  “This is hopeless,” John said. For every one they dropped another two now took its place, coming out of the woods from only fifteen feet away on either side.

  They kept at it. Darlene finished her clip and put in a new one, wondering if this would be the last one she’d ever have and wondering if she should save two bullets for them.

  She hadn’t told John or Murph about survivors in Maine. Her goal was to stay here through the summer and winter, build up her strength and supplies and then head north. She knew that patience was not her strong suit but she didn’t want to risk another winter in the northeast. Now she wished she’d told John and Murph of her plan. Somehow she felt like she’d eventually be abandoning them, even though she owed nothing real to them and them to her. Still…

  John fired his last arrow a second before her pistol was empty. They immediately turned and fumbled with the cement block. They’d managed to clear a thirty foot zone before them but the zombies would close it soon enough.

  The cement block moved a few inches and John was able to get his hands under it. “Push it,” he yelled, trying to keep the weight from falling and crushing his hands.

  When the machine gun fire started he almost dropped it.

  “Who the fuck is that?” Darlene asked.

  A figure, dressed in black, face covered in a black hood, was sitting on a Harley Davidson shooting an M4 assault rifle. He tossed a grenade into the tree line.

  “We’re saved,” Darlene said.

  “No. That’s Azrael.” John worked frantically to move the block. “If we don’t move this he’ll shoot us dead as quick as he’ll shoot zombies.”

  The grenade went off in the woods.

  “Shit.” Darlene put her back into it to lift the cement block as a bullet bounced off of the fence next to her.

  Thirteen

  They got the cement block off to the side and John stepped over it, reaching back to help Darlene. “Behind you!” he shouted.

  She turned, pulling her machete and cutting with it in one motion. An arm from the nearest undead flew into the water. She began hacking at its neck and on the third slice it severed.

  “Let’s go, he’s still firing!” John urged her.

  Darlene kicked another zombie back into the pack, who now pushed to get at her. The sound of bullets hitting zombies and ricocheting off of the asphalt was making her shake and she tried to duck and fight at the same time.

  “Now!” John finally said. “He’ll shoot us both.”

  She took one wide swing and cut into another neck before jumping back and over the cement block.

  “Help me push it back!” John said as he gripped it again and put his shoulder into it. Darlene joined him, a bullet ricocheting just past her chin. It was easier to push it back into place and despite the hands trying to reach over and grab them they managed to set it so it couldn’t be moved.

  “Run,” John said and began moving across the bridge, which was completely empty of debris, cars or bodies.

  Darlene followed close behind, marveling at how odd it was to have found such refuge amidst all of the chaos. You could put your head down and imagine cars coming up behind you, tourists roaring toward the beaches. To either side the river lapped at the pylons, another lazy summer day.

  The sound of gunfire receding in the distance broke her from the spell. When they got halfway over the bridge they stopped.

  Another explosion rocked the trees, and they watched as smoke and fire billowed near the bridge, a tree dropping into the river.

  “Was he throwing grenades?” Darlene asked.

  “Yeah.” John put his hands on his knees and tried to catch his breath. Finally he sat down in the middle of the bridge. “He won’t follow us.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Not really.” John put his head down on the sun-baked asphalt and stretched his legs.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Enjoying a nap. Grab it while you can.”

  “You’re not serious.”

  “Damn serious. Where else, besides back home, will you ever be safe? There’s no way the zombies can get to us.”

  “What about … whatever his name is on the bike?” Darlene sat down next to him.

  “If he wants to he’ll shoot us long distance. I’m not worried about him. I’m worried about the noise we created and the dozens of zombies amassing on the eastern end of the bridge.”

  “Who is he?”

  “I told you. Azrael.”

  “Like the bad cat in the Smurfs cartoon?”

  John laughed. “As in the Angel of Death.”

  Darlene shrugged. “I think the old guy from the cartoon was worse.”

  “Papa Smurf?”

  “Forget it.” Darlene stood back up and brushed off her pants. “Who is he?”

  “Some lunatic. He’s been around for a few months. He sets all of these roadblocks and traps. When we sent someone to talk to him he started shooting. Now we just stay clear of him and he inadvertently helps us with his work. That place that we met? He set all of that up; I just use it to kill them.”

  “You mean the place where you tried to kill me?”

  “Not quite. If I wanted to I would have killed you.”

  Darlene laughed and playfully nudged him with her foot. “I’m too fast a target for you. I’m like a panther.”

  “Really? I could’ve easily hit those boobs of yours.”

  “Pervert,” Darlene said and went to kick him harder this time. John grabbed her foot and yanked her. She fell onto him and he circled her in a bear hug.

  “You were saying?” he whispered in her ear.

  Darlene immediately reacted in two very different ways: her body stiffened at his touch, so unused to physical contact that was not violent; and she also got wet. “Get off of me,” she said and rolled her eyes when her voice quivered. She wanted him inside of her, right here on the bridge, Azrael and zombies be damned.

  “Sorry.” John pulled away from her and sat up. He turned his head away from her. “I got carried away.”

  “It’s alright. Just two adults having some fun, right?”

  “I’m married,” he finally said.

  “I know.” Darlene stood and walked over to the edge, looking down at the water. “It’s just…”

  “We should get going if we’re going to get home before dark.” John took a few steps away from Darlene.

  “Is she out there?” Darlene asked.

  “Yes. Somewhere she’s alive and waiting for me. She’s safe and right now laughing with my daughters.”


  “I hope so.”

  John turned and eyed her, his eyes swollen. “I can feel her, like she’s sending me messages or something.”

  Darlene nodded. She really did hope for his sake that they were alive, no matter how remote the chance was. “Where’s your uniform?” she asked, changing the subject.

  “What uniform?” John asked and turned back the way they’d come. “I think he left. I don’t hear gunfire or explosions.”

  “That’s good.”

  “The problem will be getting past the ones that were alerted on the other side by all of the noise. I hope we gave them enough time to get bored and move along.”

  “Uniform,” Darlene said as she started walking.

  “I still don’t get it.”

  “You told me you were a cop. In every horror movie, especially zombie movies, the hero has a heart of gold, a knowing smile, and a cop uniform on.”

  “Sorry. After a year I decided to retire the uniform and put on more comfortable clothes.”

  “The uniform would have been better. It would give you that authority, that sense of righteous purpose.”

  John snickered. “I already have a sense of righteous purpose.”

  “Any idea what that is?”

  “Not a clue.” John laughed. “But it sounds pompous. I like it.”

  “I thought you would. And next time you talk about my tits I’ll shoot you.”

  “As long as it’s with a bow, I’ll be safe.”

  “Fuck you,” Darlene said and missed with a punch.

  “You wish.”

  You have no idea, Darlene thought and tried to concentrate on walking next to him.

  Fourteen

  There was a soft thud on the stairs below her new house. Darlene drew her Desert Eagle, always on her side, and walked quietly to the front door. Someone or something was coming up the steps unannounced, a great way to get a bullet between the eyes.