Rotting Dead F*cks: An Extreme Novel of Horror, Sex, Gore and the Undead

by Matt Shaw

  “Please get away from the door…”

  “You see, in horror films, whenever the victim knows there is an intruder in the house - they always run up the stairs. Needless to say we all know they’re going to die within the next few minutes when the killer - or killers - discover them hiding in a closet. They usually die gruesomely too. Well that’s you and me if we stay here.”

  “You’re not talking any sense. We do not know what is out there. For all we know the whole building could be surrounded by the infected. For all you know you’re about to open the door right into a group of them and - once you do that - there’s no turning back for either of us. You hear me?”

  “Now picture the same film…The victim finds out there is a killer in the house and so they run out of the back door. They don’t stop running. They’re like Forrest Fucking Gump, you know? Just running and running until, before they know it, they’re safe and sound in another town completely. The killer meanwhile is still searching the house wondering what the hell went wrong…You know why we don’t see people leave via the back door?”

  “Please just lock it back up and come away…”

  “Answer the fucking question. Play the game.”

  “Please….”

  I felt the rage build within me again. Harold and I would have never been good housemates. I know that for sure now. We were too different. I was smart and savvy and he was just - well…He opened a shop in what appears to be a Muslim community. That isn’t smart. They won’t shop with him when their own kind is right next door. And I have to be honest, the other store did seem to have more stock on the shelves. A little of this and a little of that. Something for everyone. This store seems flat in comparison. I asked him again, “Why don’t we see the victim run out of the back?”

  “I don’t know….Why?”

  “Because there’s nothing out there to make the film interesting. Nothing but safety, and people who watch horror films - they don’t want to see that shit. They want to see the person get butchered. Just the way it is.” And with that I pushed the handle down and kicked the door open with my left foot.

  Dr. Platts

  We were all standing in the reception area still with the blinds shut. The room was a little lighter so we knew the sun had come up behind the closed blinds. Tempers were frayed - just as they had been for most of the night after Tina reported back to the rest of the group what she had heard Darron and I discussing. Of course I had tried to diffuse the situation by telling them it was nothing more than a discussion and that no decisions had been made. I hadn’t gone into whose idea it had been to leave the group because I didn’t think it would have been fair to Darron but that didn’t matter because Tina had heard everything and filled the group in on the details I had purposefully omitted. Needless to say the group had taken it quite badly with a lot of hostility aimed at Darron - some name calling, a little shoving from one of the male patients who was trapped in here with us. It was only by reminding people that - if we continued to shout at each other - there was a good chance we’d attract whatever was out there waiting for us. It seemed to do the trick and the group went quiet.

  Regardless I didn’t sleep a wink. I don’t think anyone did. I could just sense everyone watching each other as though waiting for someone to make a move (no move in particular, just a move in general). We hadn’t even been in here for twenty-four hours and yet already the group was rotting with distrust and fear.

  Darron walked over to the window and carefully peered out through the edge of the blind, being as careful as he could not to make it apparent anyone was in here. I didn’t say anything to let him know I was awake and watching him. The way he was moving, quietly, I could tell he thought most of us were still asleep.

  “Trying to sneak off?” a voice called out from the back of the room. I didn’t roll over, from where I was lying, to see who had said it. I didn’t need to. His name was John Hankins - one of my more troubled patients (and the man who was supposed to be following Ted’s appointment yesterday). I had seen John for a little over a year now and, of course, tried him on various medications. He’d suffered abuse at the hands of his father when he was younger, and had spent a lifetime going into and out of different correctional facilities since he was fourteen years old. Most of the time it was petty crime he’d be caught for but I knew he was capable of much, much more and I knew - one day - he’d likely just snap. The way he was talking (and looking) at Darron yesterday, I thought that day had come. With that in mind, though, he’d never so much as raised his voice at me directly. He’d only ever been polite and respectful of me. Strange to know you’re in the presence of a monster and yet not fear for your safety. Yet, with Ted, I knew he hadn’t done anything but I feared every alone moment with him.

  Darron stepped away from the blinds, “I was trying to see if I could see anything out there,” he said. His tone carried a certain amount of hostility towards John - clearly the two men were still at odds from the events of the previous night.

  “And?” I jumped in before they started again.

  “It looks clear. I can’t see anyone.”

  The road was a frequently used pathway to get to the shops but - other than this building - there wasn’t a lot of reasons for people to be milling around outside so Darron’s declaration didn’t come as a surprise to me. There were no schools nearby and no major shopping areas. There were just houses and by the time everything apparently kicked off yesterday - most of those would have been empty as the occupants would have ventured off to wherever they went for their days.

  “Well you’d better fuck off then!” John piped up again. I sat up and looked across the room at him. He was sitting in the receptionist’s chair - his eyes fixed on Darron with a look of hate brewing in them. I wasn’t sure whether this all stemmed from last night’s conversations or whether there was something deeper rooted between the two of them of which I was unaware.

  I looked over at Darron. I could see, in his face, that he desperately wanted to tell John to do the same thing. It was good that he didn’t. Both men were fairly big and - given the circumstances - I’m pretty sure it wouldn’t have taken much for either one of them to step the hostility up a notch or two.

  Despite Darron ignoring John’s comment, John continued. It was clear he just wanted to get a rise out of him, perhaps even antagonise Darron into making the first move. That way, if John put him down, he could claim it was self-defence without losing the respect of any other members who were trapped here. “Go on. You wanted to go it alone so now’s your chance. There’s nothing out there. You said so yourself so…Fuck off.” He pointed towards the door. “Don’t worry - we’ll make sure to close the door when you’re out there by yourself.”

  Darron bit his lip. “We were just talking options through,” he said after a moment taken to reflect upon what he was going to say. “I didn’t know what I was saying. I apologise. I was just talking out loud. This is a pretty bad situation and I didn’t know how best to deal with it. Yes, for a moment, I thought it may have been better to go it alone. It may have been…But my mind wasn’t made up and I…”

  “It didn’t sound like that to me,” said Tina. I closed my eyes in disbelief that she’d felt the need to get involved. She knew John Hankins too. She’d seen him, once, kick off in the waiting area over the slightest of things (such an insignificant matter that I can’t even remember what it was about). The fact she’d seen the extent of his temper though meant she should have known better. “You wanted to leave with Veronica,” she said, “just the two of you. Leave the rest of us here because we’d slow you down…”

  Darron looked across the room to me. I could tell by his expression that he wanted me to back him up but I couldn’t. Tina knew what she’d heard and - if we were going to go with that story - we needed to have done it last night when the arguing first started. If we changed the story now people would know we were lying. “Veronica,” he urged me to speak.

  “What are you still standin
g there for?” John verbally pushed him. “There’s the fucking door. Use it.” John stood up. Thankfully he didn’t step out from behind the reception desk so there still wasn’t a clear path between the two of them.

  “Back off,” Darron spat, “I told you - we were just talking last night and nothing was decided…Just airing some thoughts…”

  “Don’t give a fuck what you were doing last night,” John continued, “the group has made their mind up and we don’t want you here. So - whether you want to go it alone or not - the decision isn't in your hands anymore. I say again - there’s the door. Fuck off out of it.”

  “Oh? The group has decided that have they?” Darron turned to everyone else in the room and looked from face to face. I watched their reactions too. Most people looked away, avoiding his eye contact. There were eleven people in here, including Darron and I, and it seemed as though no one was willing to speak out in his defense. They were all weak individuals of mixed ages - the youngest being a seventeen year old girl called Amy and the eldest being a woman, with depression, who looked to be in her sixties. “Veronica?” he looked at me again in a hope I’d speak up for him. I couldn’t not.

  “Last night - tempers are high. People are scared,” I said.

  “Of course they are,” Tina hissed, “it’s hardly surprising, is it? He thinks we’re going to slow him down out there so he wants to just leave us here to die. Why would people not be scared?” I could tell - at this point - arguing wasn’t going to solve anything.

  “That’s not how it was,” Darron continued to try and back track from his story. He looked flustered. John stepped out from behind the desk and I felt my heart rate increase a notch. He approached Darron and put his hand on his arm before pulling him towards the door. Darron tried to break free, “Get your fucking hand off me!”

  “Look we all need to calm down and talk about this in a civilised manner,” I protested.

  “You two had your talk last night. He wants to fuck off and go it alone so I’m helping him!” John grabbed Darron again and shoved him towards the door. Darron reacted by swinging for John as soon as he caught his balance. The punch connected hard but John seemed to barely register it.

  “Darron!” I knew it was too late now. It didn’t matter what anyone said. Everyone backed away from the two men - myself included - and watched in horror as they squared up to each other. “This isn’t helping!” I shouted but I knew neither of them could hear me through their own internal rage. John responded to Darron’s punch with a hit of his own which sent Darron back against the glass door. He hit it so hard I thought he was going to go through the damned thing. “Please just stop.” Darron darted forward, head down, and threw his body against John’s - the force was enough to send the two men over the reception desk and onto the floor behind, out of sight. The contents of the desk slammed to the floor around them. John was the first to stand up. He wasted no time in putting his foot into what was likely to be Darron’s stomach; I couldn’t see from this angle.

  “Get up you cunt!” He raised his hands as though ready for round two.

  Darron’s bloodied hand stuck up from behind the desk. It slammed down onto the wooden top and pushed down as Darron pulled himself to his feet. The room gasped. Even I did. A pair of large scissors sticking out from his chest. Panic written all over his face as he looked down at the handle. He looked up at me with teary eyes, “Veronica…”

  I went to cross the room towards him so I could help but was held back by Tina. There was a crazed look on her face, “No!”

  “What are you doing?” I asked, “Let go of me!” She wasn’t even looking at me. She was looking at the two men. I followed her gaze. John was staring at her. He nodded as though the two of them were having a private conversation. I wasn’t the only one to scream when John leaned forward and ripped the scissors from Darron’s chest before repeatedly stabbing him with them. Darron’s body buckled under the shock of the penetrations but was stopped from falling by John holding him up with his other hand. I cried out for him to stop but I knew my words weren’t heard (or were ignored) and that it was too late anyway. John released Darron long enough to change his hand position on his body. He grabbed Darron by his hair and leaned in close to his face - as though he was getting a kick out of watching the man die. Again I begged for him to stop, just as some of the meeker members of the group were doing the same, but he didn’t listen. He took the scissors and, without so much as blinking, stuck them in through Darron’s eye socket. He let go of both Darron’s hair and the scissors and the two dropped to the floor, lifeless. I too dropped to my knees coughing and hacking and, seconds later, vomited onto the floor. Tina - this usually quiet woman - was laughing behind me. “You’re a stupid bitch!” I hissed at her as soon as I was able to form the words.

  “I’m sorry - what was that?” she asked. There was a tone in her voice that I’d never heard before. As though she believed she was the one in charge. The silly woman had no idea, though, that there was only one person in charge now and he was standing next to the corpse of our mutual work colleague with blood on his hands. We could have all got out of here together. Darron would have come to his senses and we could have all survived this. Together. Now - now there’s a chance none of us will make it out of this room. Not with John standing there with a taste for blood and violence. And even if we do make it out - here is a man who has now put himself in charge and, having had many a meeting with him, I’m not entirely sure his decisions will be what is the best for the group. “John - did you have anything to say to Dr. Platt?” Tina looked up at John. I didn’t bother looking towards him. I could already tell he wanted to do to me what he’d already done to Darron. After all - I was part of the conversation last night so already the group doesn’t trust me.

  “Please stop this,” Amy was crying but her words were ignored. Other members of the group were asking for the same but - again - their words fell upon deaf ears.

  “John!” Tina’s voice sounded alarmed. I looked at her and saw a look of panic in her face. I followed the gaze and couldn’t help but scream when I saw what she was staring at. Others screamed too when they noticed Darron was up on his feet, standing behind John. His face was twisted and contorted in a way I’d never have thought possible. Blood tricking from his mouth still. Scissors poking out from his eyeball where they’d been left. A gargling noise from his throat. John jumped when he realised what everyone was looking at but it was wasted movement - he should have thrown himself across the desk and out of the way. Darron (is it still Darron) grabbed him with both hands and started to feverishly bite the other man’s face. With each bite he tore another chunk of flesh off before helping himself to another. John was trying to push him away, whilst screaming, but made no progress.

  I jumped to my feet and ran from the room. The others followed me although I hadn’t instructed - nor wanted - them to do so. I ran down the dark corridor towards the fire escape and threw my body against the door. It didn’t budge as I slammed into it. “What? No!” What was the point in a fire escape if the fucking thing was kept locked?

  “What now?” a man called out from the back of the group. I didn’t know ‘what now’. This was the only way out of the building. The other route being blocked by Darron, I didn’t fancy having to worm my way past him (or John for that matter).

  “Up the stairs!” I pushed through the group and back down the corridor towards the spiral staircase. There was no way out that way. No access to the rooftop. Just a solitary room which was used for keeping older files. What it did have, though, was a window and - with any luck - that would be a way out for us. By the time we reached the stairs, John had stopped screaming. I feared the worst - Darron had killed him. But then I remembered the worst was still yet to come. If Darron had come back to life, what was to stop John from doing the same? At the top of the stairs I was the first into the small admin room. I waited by the door for the last person to enter before slamming it shut - but not before hearing the sound of g
roaning from downstairs. Not from one person but two. My heart skipped a beat as I realised what this meant.

  “Now what?” Tina asked. I glared at her for the first time in my life. I confess to sometimes having ‘out of place’ thoughts about people but I always did it internally and was sure they’d never know what I was really thinking about them. But - this time - I couldn’t hide my feelings. She had helped to get us into this position. More frustrating was the fact that Darron had informed us, before it kicked off, that it looked clear outside. Tina saw the look I gave her and backed away. For her sake, probably a wise move.

  “There’s no way out!” Amy helpfully pointed out, hyperventilating in the process.

  “You need to control your breathing,” I told her. My consultations with Amy had taught me she was prone to panic attacks periodically. Sometimes - from what she’d told me - they seemed to be for no reason at all. They’d just hit her out of the blue. If she were to have one now, at least there’d be a good reason.

  A gush of cold wind blew into the room, sending a shiver down my spine in the process, as a man (whom I didn’t know) opened the small window which overlooked the street. He stuck his head out and looked from side to side before pulling it back into the room.

  “There’s no way down!” he helpfully said.

  Amy continued to hyperventilate as she clearly had the same thought that rushed through my own tired mind A single thought. We’re all dead. A hand slammed against the door on which I leaned causing me to jump a foot in the air. A couple of the ladies, in the group, screamed out. We all knew what was on the other side of the door. I knew they’d come but - I have to be honest - I thought it would take them longer…A second hand banged on the door. The look on my face told everyone what I was thinking; I’m not sure how strong this door is. I’m not sure how many hits it will take before it finally gives way and they come crashing through. And when that happens - we’re dead.