“We need to keep on going the way we’re going. Hold on to each other and try to run,” I said.
“No way, man,” Max said. “They’re coming from that direction. If you go that way, you’re gonna head right into their teeth.”
I quickly added, “Yes, it’s a gamble. Your choice! Who’s with me?”
“Go,” said Joe.
“C’mon,” said Lucy, and as Violet and Henry were just adding their agreement, Dil interrupted.
“You’re all fucked. C’mon, Max.”
“Are you sure, man?” Max said. “I hear ’em coming, but I got no idea from where.”
“You trust me, don’t you? Then c’mon,” I heard Dil say.
We never did see them again, alive, dead or even undead for that matter.
Joe, Lucy, Violet, Henry, and I headed toward what we hoped was safety and the washrooms. Only a few seconds had passed during the short conversation. Even so we had lost precious seconds—seconds that we would perhaps never regain. It was the screams we heard coming from the direction of the dining room that gave us hope and a much-needed boost to our sense of urgency. It would not be long before the horde caught up with us, and we still had some fifty yards to go before the turn in the corridor. Lucy and Joe were keeping up, but Violet and Henry were falling behind again and keeping us from making good time.
“Come on. Try to pick up the pace. It’s not far now!” I whispered.
“It’s no good, Sonny,” Violet said. “We’re just slowing you down. You go ahead. We’ll be okay.”
“We’ll catch up in a few minutes, son,” Henry added.
“No, Blaine,” Lucy said, almost stamping her foot down. “Don’t you dare leave them here to die. For once in your sorry life, do the right thing!”
“We could carry them,” Joe offered. “Like you said, it’s not far.”
I mulled the options over in my mind quickly. “Okay, I’ll take Henry, you take Violet. Lucy, hold my left arm. Joe, take my right. And no, this does not mean we are an item, Joe! Violet, Lucy, hold your hands out to the sides and rub them against the walls as we move. Joe, you should feel when she’s in contact. Same goes for you and I, Lucy.” I added, “Hey, Lucy. On a personal note, ‘for once in my sorry life’? That was harsh!”
In the dark, Lucy held her tongue and felt a little shitty about her sharp remark but quickly chose to respond. “I just wanted you to do the right thing, ’tis all.”
I grunted my reply: “C’mon.”
We started to trot in the pitch black and were lucky that the corridor was relatively straight, with very few obstacles or doors along the way. With the old couple on our backs, we made the journey to the junction quickly. Had it not been for the cameramen and their choice to travel back the way we came, we would never have made it this far. The horde had temporarily halted their pursuit to feast on the last of the Channel 42 News crew, giving us the time to put some distance between us and the meat munchers from hell.
As we trotted to the junction, Henry cleared his throat. “Okay, son. How the hell can you see in this dark?” he asked. “D’you have bat blood in your veins?”
“Maybe,” I answered. “My mother shared many similar traits with those mythical beings from Transylvania.”
Henry chuckled at my response. Had he known my mother, he would not be laughing right now.
I was beginning to like the old couple. I’d never really liked anyone before, not even my ex-wife. I guess these two were growing on me—literally. So much had happened over the past twenty-four hours, and along with the strange events, I also seemed to be changing in unpredictable ways. I was apparently able to move a little faster than normal now. In addition, I’m now physically stronger than I have ever been, and I seem to be able to see in absolute darkness as well. These things troubled me less than the seemingly new emotional responses that I was now feeling toward Henry, Violet, and especially Lucy. I even felt something akin to friendship regarding Joe.
We were approaching the turn, and so we stopped and closed the last yards slowly and quietly in the hope that we would not alert any zombies to our presence. I slid Henry from my back and heard his bones crack as he straightened himself. I was impressed. He had not complained once during the jog.
“Stay here,” I whispered, and carefully edged my way to the corner and peered around to hopefully see if the coast was clear.
There was a faint light at the far end of the corridor some two hundred yards distant, and only some ten yards distant I could clearly see the door to the washroom. There must have been a functioning light source or even windows, as a pencil-thin line of light framed the large door. This corridor must be the main thoroughfare for the whole facility, I thought. Off to the sides at regular intervals were more corridors, leading off presumably to additional wings to accommodate the eighteen hundred prisoners. This thought returned me to a burning question, though: Where were all the prisoners?
Chapter - 18
- A walk alone in to the dark -
In the dim light, the way to the washrooms looked clear, and so we carefully made our way there, keeping to the darkest shadows. Slowly pushing open the door to the washing facility, I watched for any sudden movement, then entered the space quietly. The others followed closely behind me and spread out as soon as we were all safely inside. The washroom was spacious and illuminated with natural light. It took several long seconds before my eyes adjusted fully to the brightly lit area. To the right were rows of metal washbasins, each with a single stainless steel faucet. At the far end of the row of basins, a large, open shower area with around twenty or so showerheads was located. Above the showers, but well out of our reach, were a series of skylights, which currently illuminated this side of the facility. To the left side there was a row of open-plan toilets. Without any kind of separation between these stations, there was no conceivable amount of privacy possible. Again, the preferred construction material was stainless steel, guaranteeing that the warranty the manufacturer gave would be honored. Besides which, within the prison system steel tended to endure a little longer than porcelain. Opposite the toilets was another row of basins, and at the far end was a duplicate shower facility.
“Oh God, I could do with a shower . . . Is there any running water?” Lucy asked to no one in particular.
No one responded immediately, and so Lucy walked over to the nearest basin and opened the faucet. Warm, flowing water ran out. Lucy made an aah sound as she let the water run over her hands. As the crusted blood broke free and was rinsed away, she looked to the showers and wondered if it was at all possible to take a quick shower.
Joe, Henry, and Violet walked to the adjoining basins and first washed their hands, then drank from the faucets. Lucy splashed water onto her face, washing away the dried blood while simultaneously smearing her dark eyeliner. There was a small piece of soap on the basin’s edge, so taking it, Lucy now washed her forearms. Violet noticed Lucy’s smeared makeup, so taking a handkerchief from her pocket, she first soaked the cotton material, then offered to clean Lucy’s face for her. She wiped away the dark smears much like a mother would do when tending to her daughter.
“There you go, good as new!” Violet said, smiling.
Lucy responded with “Oh God, that feels so much better, thank you,” while displaying a genuinely warm smile.
“What the hell!” Lucy exclaimed, then unbuttoned the first three buttons of her blouse and pulled it off, exposing an untanned, trim torso, with her puppies safely secured in their double hammock.
I was a little taken aback with her display but did not disapprove of the content. I too can appreciate beauty, and I dare say that my eyes may have betrayed my thoughts for just an instant when she bent over the basin and rinsed her hair. Her performance instantly caused my heart to skip a beat as I recalled the mental photographs of her naked body that I’d taken only a couple of weeks ago.
When I eventually took my eyes from those curves, I found Violet grinning at me. She then winked once and
carried on with her own ablutions.
“Please stay here and be quiet. I want to check out the route,” I said.
“You’re coming back, right?” Lucy asked while squeezing the last of the water from her hair and looking very concerned.
“Of course,” I said. “I won’t be long.”
And as I exited the washroom, I was plunged back into the almost-impenetrable darkness of the corridor. With only my heartbeat to keep me company, I walked into the abyss, with Lucy’s curves on my mind instead of the zombies. My eyes had once again become accustomed to the dark and now made out the distant faint illumination once again. I had come about fifty yards when I started to feel the dark closing in around me. Was it my imagination, or was it for real? In either case, somehow it was getting darker. I realized almost too late what the cause was: several zombies were walking toward me, blocking the light from the far end of the corridor. Unhurried, they were simply wandering aimlessly.
I stopped, then slowly started to backtrack the way I had come, but it was too late. The closest zombie was already sniffing at the air, while his kin were beginning their deep growl. And then they leapt forward, closing the twenty or so yards in barely two or three blinks of an eye. Instinctively I stepped to the side, and with that I attacked as fast as I was able.
The closest zombie reached for where I had been only a fraction of a moment previously. I must have literally appeared out of thin air one yard to his left as far as he was concerned, as his head snapped around to look straight into my eyes. As his head did so, so my machete-like blade flew at his unprotected neck, guided by my left hand. A second zombie was coming in for the kill, his mouth wide open and his hands outstretched in the classic zombie posture that one normally associates with zombie movies. The machete in my left hand was making first contact with zombie number one as I stepped forward and to the left, twisting my hips and putting as much force behind the already-in-motion upward palm strike to zombie number two’s face as was humanly possible. Sensing more than actually seeing, I knew that there were another two zombies following up on their rear. The machete was now hurtling through the skin muscle, veins, and tendons of zombie number one, while my right-hand palm now struck zombie number two’s nose.
With the clarity of accelerated senses comes a clarity of sensory feelings also. While my palm pushed onward and upwards, crushing the delicate bone, I felt each bone break, grind, and snap when the force applied to it exceeded its breaking point. With finality, zombie number two’s head continued its backward travel at a velocity almost equal to the strike, resulting in a loud crack as its vertebrae snapped, terminating any control the zombie had over its limbs. The machete had passed through the spine of zombie number one and had exited from the other side. It stood for a moment or two before it collapsed forward, causing the head to roll off, bouncing once with a wet thump, then rolling a few feet further before coming to a stop upside down.
Realizing the advantage in speed I had over my quarry, I stepped forward into the outstretched arms of zombie number three as it began to roar. A cold draft wafted over my face. Accompanied with it was a putrid stench that reeked of its already-decaying guts. Emanating from deep within its cavernous mouth, a mixture of saliva and green fluid ran over its lower lip as it anticipated its next meal. The zombie had little chance as I commanded my arms to shoot in. My hands found their target and firmly gripped the zombie by the back of its head and chin. I then rotated its head anticlockwise. A satisfying crack resounded as its spine broke and echoed down the corridor as the zombie collapsed to the floor in a heap.
It was then that I realized I had seriously misjudged my abilities and my situation. Fast though I was, suddenly my hair was pulled and my head yanked to the side, while a viselike grip almost crushed my upper left arm. The roar in my ear was deafening as the massive zombie came in for the kill, eager to taste my flesh. Its gargantuan body pushed down on me as I felt the cool saliva pour over my neck. The foul liquid splashed at my feet, along with the green ooze that was now covering my exposed neck. I was going down, and my light was about to be extinguished for good, I thought.
The moment came as the zombie brought its gaping mouth close enough to bite me. I felt its cold, dead, and moist flesh come into full contact with my skin as its teeth began to press down into my exposed flesh. The mixture of saliva and ooze now seemed to burn on my skin. Whether the sensation was real or not, my imagination was running riot now, and I pictured in my mind’s eye the layers of skin peeling away under a torrent of the acidic cocktail. Through instinct and sheer will to survive, I let the beast push me down instead of fighting against its superior mass. As I gave in to its weight, I half stepped into the zombie and gripped his trunk-like forearms, pulling him down with me to let the laws of physics take over. The zombie lost balance and fell forward. In the same instant I took its enormous weight onto my hips, flipping the monster onto its back. I could swear that the concrete floor actually cracked under the monster’s impact. The inmate zombie was truly huge and would be more at home in a circus than a death row facility. Perhaps this was “Bubba”; every prison had one.
Without giving him a moment to recover, I brought down my machete with such speed and force that when I sliced through Bubba’s skull, blood did not run or ooze for at least a second or two. The bone had not been broken by the blade but had been cleanly severed, leaving a smooth edge along its perimeter. The top of the zombie’s skull, which still retained half his brain, now rolled around on its hairless surface, coming to a standstill some moments later. Now deceased for good, the four zombies lay at my feet still twitching, as if each member had a life of its own.
The noise that the zombies had made in the attack had not gone unnoticed, as in the distance from the direction of the washrooms I heard the now familiar but really unwelcome charge of a zombie horde. Like ferocious tigers racing to share in the kill, they headed my way with a furor unmatched anywhere in nature. I had no choice but to continue toward the distant light and away from my small group of comrades in the hope I could escape the oncoming nightmare. Lucy and the rest would have to take care of themselves for now. As long as they remained quiet, this new horde would not detect them, and they should be okay for the time being. I then raced toward the faint light, which became brighter with every yard that I closed the distance with. As I approached the light source, so my vision within the corridor improved, and I noticed that the security gates ahead were all open. There was one directly ahead, and a pair that stood to both left and right of the source of light. The pursuing horde were literally screaming down the corridor toward me, though screaming is really not how it should be described. Although I’ve mentioned this before, I believe I should reemphasize the following: the roar that came from them was deeper that any lion’s, louder than any elephant’s, and more fearsome that any werewolf’s. Okay, so werewolves don’t exist, but in my defense, up until recently neither did zombies, so give me a break, huh!
As I reached what I thought was the end of the corridor, it angled to the right. I slammed on my brakes as soon as I rounded the corner and was faced with the source of the light and the reason for the lack of zombies inside the prison. A massive section of the corridor wall had been torn away, leaving a hole five yards long and three high. Through the aperture I saw the open, grassy lawns stretch out right up to the prison perimeter fencing.
Four prison SUVs stood abandoned on the perimeter road straight ahead and about one hundred yards distant. I could just make out the remains of the occupants lying around the beaten vehicles. Body parts littered the area, unmoving, while some dismembered torsos writhed, moving a head or arm in an attempt at locomotion.
The prison road runs the entire circumference of the prison itself, allowing for the transportation of prison staff as well as new arrivals, and would have been my immediate route out of here save for one ever so small detail. The immediate area outside the demolished wall—and as far as I could see, within the fenced area—was populated by the co
mbined mass of zombified inmates, visitors, and prison staff. Outside the fenced area, the surrounding fields were dotted with wandering corpses slowly making their way toward the local farms.
To make matters worse, the approaching zombie horde from behind me was now grabbing the attention of the zombie throng before me, and they were now turning to look at me. Every single zombie registered my presence and began to roar in unison. No time for introductions I thought, and continued onwards with the realization that I now attracted not only the original smaller horde, but also a throng of over one thousand that had only seconds ago been enjoying a peaceful meander on the grass. As I made my way back into the encroaching gloom, the amped-up zombie chorus hammered at my ears with such intensity that while I ran, I had to cover my ears with my hands in an attempt to keep the noise out. With my eager followers behind me, the chances that I would run headlong into a competing group rose exponentially. Irrespective of my newly discovered abilities, if I ended up sandwiched between two hordes I wouldn’t last a second.
A little further ahead I noticed an open security gate and door leading to the right, and so I headed for the door. It was my only chance now. Luckily it was open. Then again, was it really luck? What did I really expect? This was a maximum security prison, with the toughest and most dangerous individuals this country has to offer, and someone had left all the security gates wide open. It was indeed open, and what’s more, the symbol on its surface gave a clue as to its purpose. It was the access stairs to the roof! This was the exit that I had planned for my escape and was the way out from the infested building.
Closing the door behind me, I leapt up the stairs, taking two at a time, until I reached the top, where another door presented itself. Again this door was unlocked. Doesn’t anyone believe in locking doors anymore? I thought to myself. I went through the door carefully, just in case an industrious zombie had managed to stumble through several doors and traverse the stairway without falling down and breaking its neck. Instead of the gnarled fingers of some rotting corpse reaching out to grab me, the short steel blade of a scalpel flashed in the evening light as it darted toward my bare neck and stopped a hair’s breadth from my artery.
Death Row Apocalypse Page 20
