No Room In Hell (Book 1): The Good, The Bad and The Undead

by William Schlichter

  “People fled so fast to safe zones many stores were left fully stocked.”

  “You’ve seen a lot more out there than I have. You’re a highly intelligent man, why didn’t you evacuate to a refugee camp?” Travis wonders.

  “I made a promise to save someone.”

  Travis guesses he failed, but not having first moved heaven and earth to achieve it.

  “I reached a refugee camp. I guess the government took little interest in the smaller safe centers it first directed people to evacuate to. By the time I got there…it was nothing more than a crater infested with biters.”

  “Doesn’t mean they didn’t escape, or even make it to a different—”

  “I know.”

  His response explains everything to Travis. The colonel won’t ask again.

  “The civilian government has fallen. We’re to retreat to a single rally point. The last executive order given was to withdraw all able bodied military forces and convert the United States into a military dictatorship, until this crisis has been abated.”

  “Part of me wants to be outraged. Not just the shredding of the Constitution, but the abandonment of a few million civilians with no possibility of rescue.”

  “We’d never be having this conversation if you were a soldier,” Travis confirms.

  “Why are we talking?”

  “I’ve my orders and I will carry them out without question.”

  “They don’t include your daughter,” he deduces.

  “No.”

  “Colonel, I need a master welder.”

  “Always right to the point with you.”

  “I’m not your friend. And I guess we don’t have a lot of time.”

  “You’re in no condition to travel with her now. You pass out beyond the fence and you’ll both be eaten.”

  “I’ll travel with a few others now, and when I return I need things.” He handed over Dar’s list.

  “I don’t have a lot of time. Every supply run the government makes they pull out troops.”

  “I’ll be back in a week.”

  Travis calculates how much time he has. “Is it secure?”

  “I won’t tell you about it.”

  “You’re correct. I don’t want to know where you’re hiding. I need my daughter to be safe. This place? With DC’s fall, I don’t know how many more supply runs we’ll get, and when the food stops the riots starts.”

  “My home is safe. I could use a few soldiers, only ones that are absolutely loyal to you and will follow me. I don’t bring just anyone into my group.”

  “But you’ll take my daughter.”

  “We’ve a rule. You work or you don’t eat.”

  Travis opens the door. “Corporal.”

  The soldier hands the colonel a clipboard. Travis glances at the clipboard. He flips through the yellow pages. “I’ve three civilian welders listed as their primary occupation. I’ll have them brought to my office. See if you like them. You already took a great nurse.

  “That she is. Do the welders have families?”

  “One has a son. Another a wife and daughter.”

  “Any engineers on your list?”

  “I’ll give you one of mine. He will follow my last order to the letter, but you’ll have to take another non-military person.”

  He knows he won’t like this. It’s probably some damn lawyer. “Who?”

  “My daughter keeps trying to save everyone from the rats infesting the base. We’ve a heavy set girl who I need out of the camp before she’s killed.” Travis leaves out he may have to send her to her death if she doesn’t go.

  “Any skills?”

  “Typist is on the official register.”

  Better than a lawyer. “Such a useful skill in a world populated by reanimated corpses.” He wants to let out a deep cleansing breath but the steering wheel’s kiss prevents him from sucking in too much air. “I’m going to need a quick trip to your armory and everything on that list.”

  “This will take trucks.”

  “And a hummer.” He swings his legs out of the bed. “I always wanted one of those. I’d like it in black.”

  “We’re going to have to abandon a lot of equipment. I’d rather it go to protecting my daughter than be scattered among the rabble overrunning the base.”

  “The success of my colony functions on no useless baggage. Everyone works. Everyone pulls their weight or they don’t eat. You tell her she may have to muck the hog stalls to earn her dinner, and if she agrees I’ll make room for her.”

  “Affirmative.”

  “I’ll inspect the welders and when I return I need that hummer loaded with…well, load it with what you would pack to protect your daughter.”

  “You don’t want much.”

  “When this place disintegrates into the madness you’re talking about, you’re going to have to use bullets on living people. Ammo I’ll need for the biters. You do the math.”

  “Brock, how long have you been a welder?”

  “Twelve years professionally. I learned before and again in high school, so close to seventeen maybe. I even started a course in underwater welding, but the SCUBA part didn’t sit so well with me.”

  Not much need for divers in Missouri. “I want to offer you a job.”

  Brock laughs. “In this economy?”

  “Well, before you answer. It’s a long exposed trek to my camp. With your skills you would make us more secure. We have a few rules, one is you don’t work you don’t eat. So we’ll find something for your wife to do to earn her keep.”

  “I have a nine-year-old.”

  “She can spread grain to the chickens. We haven’t worked out school yet.”

  “You want me to drag my child and wife out of the safety of this base for the unknown?”

  “Safe’s a relative term. I need a welder. There’re three on the colonel’s jobs list. You do what you want, but my camp has more to offer than here. And, yes, it’s a long, dangerous walk, and everyone humps it with a supply pack. Age appropriate, of course.”

  “I don’t see any appeal to leaving the base. My family’s safe here.”

  “Your choice. Have them send in the next candidate.”

  Brock turns to go then asks, “You’re not going to keep persuading me?”

  “I don’t have time, besides even you should’ve noticed that the MREs aren’t as plentiful.”

  “Do you know why?”

  “If I tell you, then those soldiers outside won’t let you return to your family.”

  “A little cryptic isn’t it?”

  “Cryptic doesn’t begin to cover my week.”

  Kade leans over the hood of his truck. “LJ, you ever see Colonel Travis personally escort anyone to the front gate?”

  “Nope. Seems to me he avoids the civs.”

  Colonel Travis escorts a man in a black duster coat to the gate. Travis gives him a black field pack. Already gathered at the entrance, Sarah, a man in fatuities, and a man with a woman and small child.

  “Is that the fat girl? The one Kani was courting?” Kade asks.

  “That’s her, and with a full pack of supplies. She won’t walk too fast with those cankles.”

  “They all have full packs. Only the soldier has a rifle.” Kade pounds out a beat on the hood. “Hale, get a truck ready to go to the farm?”

  “We’re loaded. Some of the boys wanted to know if we’re going to recruit any females to reside there.”

  “I guess we need to. I’ll get us the right kind. You find Kani and have him put a recon team together. Go out the back gate and swing around. I want to know why the colonel has taken a personal interest in this group, and is sending them out without a vehicle.

  “Sure thing, Kade.”

  “And tell him to keep it on the DL. I’ve a feeling more than a few packs of supplies could be at stake here.”

  DANZIGER CEASES HIS struggle against the ropes securing him in the chair. Two men carry a portable generator down the stairs into the dark basement. Thei
r arrival activates the eight DKs secured behind a wooden-framed cage built at the far end.

  Tom keeps his voice low and calm. “Why don’t you let us go? There’s no reason to keep us. We won’t tell anyone you’re here. We’ve our own family to reach.”

  They fire up a generator, hooking it to a battery recharger. The humming generator attracts the DKs like a dinner bell. They scratch at their wooden cage, reaching for nourishment.

  The scraggly bearded one removes a battery from a circular saw and locks it into the charging unit. The light under the battery flashes red. He approaches the wooden cage and grips the hand of what was once a woman. He holds it lovingly. Danziger spots their matching wedding rings.

  He has to pull his hand away as she attempts to maul him. “They’ll find a cure, baby, and then you’ll get out of here.”

  “There’s no cure. They are dead.”

  “The dead don’t walk. The army calls them Infected. Means there must be someone developing a cure.”

  Tom keeps his calm voice over Danziger’s antagonizing of the man. “We’ve seen the military. They destroy anyone bitten.”

  “You’d say anything.” He turns to the other man who helped with the generator. “Charles, how long ‘til we feed them?”

  “Once that battery turns green. We’re good to go in a few hours.”

  A dead little girl sticks her head out of the slot built into the wooden cage for the insertion of chopped body parts.

  “You’ll all get fed, soon.”

  The pair head upstairs. Once the door closes Danziger jumps, moving his chair. The red charging light flashes in the corner of his eye. “How long do you think we have?”

  “Not long. I think the carbon monoxide from the lack of ventilation in the basement will kill us before they cut us up.”

  DKs claw their stockade.

  “Why not just hack us up with an axe?”

  “Danziger, why the hell do you have to analyze so much? From where I’m sitting I don’t think they cut us all up at once. There are bandages and surgical tools on that table.”

  “They cut off a limb or two and make us last. They think they are feeding family.”

  “I’m just guessing they don’t get a lot of people through the suburbs to keep these things well fed,” Tom speculates.

  “I’m open for suggestions.” Danziger watches the flashing light flicker red faster with each flash.

  “Can you pick the handcuffs?”

  “If I’d something to use.”

  “There’s a dental pick on the tray of medical tools. They must have raided a dentist office.”

  “That would work. How do we get to it?” The tools rest outside of Danziger’s field of vision.

  “Move your chair so you face my side.”

  Danziger jumps. The heavy metal-framed patio chair doesn’t allow for much movement. He huffs for air by the time he gets the chair turned to face Tom’s side. “Now what?”

  “Break my arm.”

  “You’re serious.”

  “I didn’t say I liked this plan, but unless you got something better.”

  “It’s going to hurt.”

  Tom nods.

  “No screaming.”

  Tom nods. He bites the lapel of his jacket.

  Danziger kicks the arm. He kicks it again. How many kicks will it take to snap the humerus? He kicks again.

  “You’re going to have to kick harder. It’s going to hurt, but if you don’t do it, you’re going to kick me to death.”

  Danziger kicks again.

  “If you don’t kick me hard enough then we need a new—”

  Snap! Danziger sends Tom to the floor.

  Tom quivers, biting his lip. “Oh, that hurts.”

  “You gotta move.”

  Tom slides out of the chair. Danziger watches his friend worm across the floor until he’s free of the chair and able to stagger to his feet. “I changed my mind. This was a bad idea.” He shuffles to the tray of utensils and cups the dental pick in his hand. He carries it to Danziger.

  Danziger fiddles with the pick until he gets it into the tiny keyhole. “We used to do stuff like this to the rookies. There was this one girl she did this in like five seconds.”

  Click. Danziger slips his free arm through the ropes. He unties the series of knots they secured him with. Once free of the rope he twists around the chair and works on freeing his other wrist. “Give any thought to getting out of the basement?”

  “We just kill the fucking DKs. If we don’t escape, at least we put an end to what these people are doing.”

  Danziger rubs his free wrist. “Maybe we fix your arm.”

  He grabs a crowbar from the table and uses it to spear a DK fishing its arms out of the feeding hole. The soft flesh crunches as it falls to the ground.

  “You could free me first.”

  “Don’t you ever watch horror movies? I free you and they come back down the stairs before I do this.” He drives the crowbar into another of the undead. He avoids the little girl and destroys the brain in what was once someone’s grandmother.

  Danziger steps back from the cage. The little girl runs her head out the food hole.

  “If you can’t finish the girl, free me. I will.” Tom speculates the little girl reminds Danziger too much of his daughter.

  “There’s still the one taped to the swing.”

  “Let her go. Free me.” Tom winces from the pain.

  Danziger works the dental pick into the cuff keyhole. Tom releases his breath as the pressure on his broken arm relaxes. “We’re going to have to set the bone.”

  “There’s plenty of wood to use as a splint down here.”

  Tom snatches the crowbar and stabs the little girl. “Not here. I couldn’t hold in the scream.”

  The stairwell door opens. Tom waves Danziger to the shadows. He hides next to the stairs and once the first pair of feet passes by he jabs the crowbar up to trip the second person.

  The man lets out a wail and collapses onto the first person. Danziger clubs the first person with the battery-less skill saw.

  “Help! They’ve escaped.”

  Tom smashes him in the head.

  “Help!”

  This time Tom sinks the crowbar into the man’s skull. Sounds of scuffling feet on the upstairs floor echo above them.

  “There’s no other way out of here.”

  Danziger motions for Tom to guard the stairs while he whirls around the basement. A lot of hand tools and buckets are in clear view, heavy items to turn into makeshift clubs if those upstairs come down without guns. He knows that’s wishful thinking. He tears the lid off a plastic tote and spills Christmas decorations. He dumps a second tote full of Christmas.

  Scuffling chairs and furniture moving echoes over the floor, either that or they have unleashed a buffalo herd into the house. Danziger guesses they are panicking, but not panicked enough to come down the stairs one at a time. Instead, they sound as if they are creating a barricade to fend them off when they do attempt to exit the basement.

  Danziger dumps a cardboard box full of old recipes. He tears the side of the next box open revealing a stack of National Geographic magazines stored away.

  “How crazy do you want to get?” Tom whispers.

  “We go up there, as is, we’re dead.” Danziger sends a metal shelf clattering to the floor.

  That crash sends more scurrying around upstairs. Guns cock.

  Danziger kicks at the spilled content on the floor. Nothing useful. Nothing to be used as a weapon or even to help him once he does escape. He shakes his head at Tom now at a loss for an escape plan.

  “How important are all these dead people to you down here?” Tom calls out.

  “Don’t hurt our momma,” a woman calls out. Other voices tell the woman to hush.

  Tom and Danziger both glance at the pile of dead bodies.

  Tom mouths at Danziger—burn them.

  That’s so crazy it might just save them. Danziger shoves the papers through
the food hole and as much of the Christmas decorations that will burn. He pulls down another shelf full of boxes. The contents spill. Stacks of vinyl records scatter. Behind that shelf is a hidden window.

  Tom leaves his guard position to pull open the window. Planted bushes keep the outside hidden as well. Danziger boosts Tom up before he smashes the glass of several Christmas lights. He wraps the broken lights in tissue papers. He strings them through the documents before plunging them into the generator.

  Sparks flash.

  The dry papers flame quickly.

  Danziger kicks over the generator before he climbs out the window. Gas splashes from the tank. Tom crouches under a window. The house rattles from the generator exploding. It was bigger than Danziger expected. The fireball subsides quickly. Danziger wonders if he still has eyebrows.

  Tom finds his moment and bolts from the house. Danziger follows, stopping only for the second it takes to land on the other side of the fence. Tom races between the houses across the street. Danziger knows they will need the supplies those people took. He wants to go back for them. They’ll be distracted with the fire. He could recover the packs, and maybe their weapons among other things.

  “Come on, detective,” Tom calls out in his loudest whisper. He holds his left arm against his chest to keep it immobile while he runs.

  Danziger punches his own open palm, and lets out a frustrated breath, before he barrels after Tom.

  “COME ON YOU rat bastard!” The skinny male screams at the shambling corpse. He backs up a dirt-covered ramp toward the top of a cargo trailer.

  Simon shuts off the Jeep motor to prevent attention being drawn to him.

  In the metal forest ranger watch tower a bulky muscular man keeps a hunting rifle on the biter. It shuffles forward slower than most corpses, but it remains persistent in its pursuit of lunch. The skinny male reaches the top of the ramp, turns, and leaps over a hatch cut into the roof. He stands on the other side waiting. The biter stumbles forward occupied with food, not aware enough to notice the hole. It falls. The moan-howls of a few dozen biters pierce the air.