Hearing the screams in the fog and mist the dead sent fear through loyal Frank supporters, now Hardy’s remaining soldiers, the Zombies emerged colliding with the last third of Hardy’s advancing soldiers and forced the defence force back as they panicked fired in the fading light and depleted their ammo. As the enemies closed in, Hardy ordered his men use the carcasses to form a wall, but they provided little protection from the increasing numbers of the dead on the road. In less than an hour, Hardy and his men had been killed.
During and after the battle, the zombies tore the clothes from the bodies and mutilated the soldiers in turn these mutilated dead began walk the earth feasting on the wounded and survivors.
Without reason, they permitted one dead to detach Hardy’s neck from his head leaving his uniform untouched and his other body parts intact stopping to paw at any other part of him. Farmore’s serial killer simply walked off with it in his hand.
It was a pinnacle time for the dead; they were at the height of their power. However, little did they know that their threat and tenuous unification onslaughts would be brought to a temporary standstill. A harsh retribution would be dealt starting with Farmore, the test ground for seventy-seven, where the dead would return to their symbolic graves, with a discharge that would attack their brain's central core destroying their limited limbic system once and for all.
Quaid drifted in and out of sleep that night, the death watch had been particularly long and his eyes felt strained. He lay on his makeshift bed, the radio crackling in the background, when he heard a familiar voice over the airwaves. Quaid sat up.
“This is the last remaining member of Hardy’s team, if you can here this… static… I’m coming for you.”
Quaid rubbed his eyes and picked up the radio, “ F1 over.” He sat at the end of his bed in the dark room “Hello, F1 over.” He repeated his only response was the sound of static. Now, sitting in the darkness he wasn’t sure if he had dreamt the voice or not. He let the radio fall to the floor watching the wire untangle as the white dawn light peeped through the window.
What an eventful day, Quaid thought; Jackie caught screwing one of the body loading men, nothing like making some money for when this is all over, he mulled over smiling. Smith and Frank exchanged both words and fists proving he’s still very dangerous, he shook his head, glad Jayne and himself were on watch once again.
Quaid watched as the men piled the bodies. Suddenly, alerted by what was happening below he ran to the roof exit, breaking the glass on the alarm as he passed. Hearing the alert, Jayne sprinted across the roof slipping the ice as she ran to him. By the time she got there she could only look on in horror as one of the bodies meant to be on its way into the incinerator had grabbed one of the loaders and had bitten into his face.
The other men panicked, one picked up a plank of wood and began to hit the dead man trying to beat him off his colleague. Turning, the zombie lurched at his attacker and sank his teeth into his arm. “What are we going to do?” panicked Jayne.
“There’s nothing we can do, this death watch has just clocked off early!” Quaid and Jayne turned, making their way towards the roof’s only exit.
Alerted by the siren Frank crunched through the snow with the single shot cattle gun, greeted by the men that had become the infected dead. Frank skidded to a stop on an ice patch, firing his last bullet; he narrowly missed one of his former colleagues, hitting one of the main electrical power boxes behind splitting open its metal cover. As he quickly tried to put another round in his gun, the box sparked blowing open making the sound of a Catherine Wheel, the lights around the compound began to go out. Fumbling in the dark Frank lit his flair but wished he hadn’t as he was greeted with a decomposed face and the bloodied faces of the compounds men. A Florida retirement was far from his mind. He didn’t have time to contemplate ending his own life, only managing a brief glance at the bullet cartridge and gun. Vapour came from his mouth followed by a painful echoing scream. In the burning yellow, reddish flare lit light the dead gathered over Franks’s body. From inside the building Smith watched the horror unfold beneath him, his face and hands pressed up against the window.
In a dusty poorly lit storage-room, Jackie sat on three empty bottle crates as Louis bent kissing her roughly. Frantically they tugged at each other’s clothes as she rocked precariously on the crates. Just then another man pushed against Jackie. “Wait your turn.” She felt a shock of static electricity.
“Hey buddy,” Louis pushed the man away and a jolt shot up his arm like an electric fence. As he clasped his elbow he caught a putrid smell, but it was too late. The dead man bit Louis’s fingers. Blood shot over Jackie’s chest, just as the lights went out, her scream the only sound in the dark. The three of them left in the darkness. She did not see the man lean forward to bite into her thigh but the intense pain was numbed as her body went into shock.
As the outside emergency floodlights came on, the dead lurched and shuffled forwards. The turnstiles mechanism had failed during the power cut and the dead now poured into to the compound. Smith stood frozen to the spot, staring in amazement as the cold, grey, dead moved forwards through the freely moving turnstiles. Smith counted the bodies as they entered; ten; twenty; more; Smith lost count. Turning away from the window Smith slid to the floor with his back to the wall and just gave up.
It’s just like the school all over again thought Jayne, “They’re going to come in here and they’re gonna eat us!” she screamed.
“Not on my watch. We’ve got to go, now!” Quaid grabbed her hand and led her to the furnace. Opening a small hatch door, he said, “We’ve got ten minutes to crawl through here. If we are not out of this chamber by then the fumes and the heat will kill us.”
Jayne was nervous she looked at the door, “How’d you know about this?” Jayne asked.
“I designed it.” he nodded proudly.
“You’ll die in it too,” she said, motioning for Quaid go first.
They made their way slowly through a cramped vent tunnel which led off a smaller chamber; soon they reached another small, sealed hatch. The noise of furnace coming to life made Quaid push and thump at the metal harder but it was no use. It would not budge.
“We’re going to die!” yelled Jayne.
Quaid turned to Jayne, a small light attached to his belt lit the dark and claustrophobic tunnel, “close your eyes,” he said holding her hand tightly. “You kept me going in this compound. I know now probably isn’t the best time, but I have to tell you, I think I...” tears welled up in Jayne’s eyes.
Quaid knew that the flames probably wouldn’t reach them but instead the deadly carbon monoxide fumes would kill them in the confined space of the tunnel. Flames from the furnace briefly lit the tunnel as the expulsion of fire and gas shot through the tunnel towards them. “This is it.” Jayne took a breath.
Suddenly the door in front of them burst open allowing the dawns natural light and air to flood in. A helping hand, with two missing fingers, reached in and assisted the couple out. Clambering outside they gasped for air. Karen pushed a device into Quaid’s chest; he looked down at the piece of technology that he now held in his hands.
“Your location device,” Karen tapped the linked transmitter situated in his survival light. He looked up at his sister standing before him. Her once shaven head was now covered with soft hair, her face still attractive had weathered.
“Am I glad to see you!” he said grabbing her into a hug. “So how was your photograph shoot?” smiled Quaid.
Karen laughed, pulling her brother tighter into the embrace she leaned to one side and shot the decomposing woman that was moving towards them.
“Let’s get of here. I have an old friend in the car.” she said to Quaid.
Jayne gripped her shoulder. “Thanks!” she reached up, kissed Karen on her cheek. The three began to run, “You’re a sight for sore eyes,” she panted, “that’s twice you’ve saved my life.”
Their boots crunched on the snow as they followed Karen
to a HMMWV (High Mobility Multi-purpose Wheeled Vehicle) that was parked near the exit. The vehicle had been fitted with a snowplough. They jumped in as Karen started the engine.
Something in the back of the truck moved, Quaid’s heavy dog Digby leaned forward nudging him with his muzzle and licked his face, “Diggers!” Quaid exclaimed, griping the dogs head with both hands, rubbing his ears.
Flash, Karen captured the moment.
Quaid looked around the sturdy vehicles interior which was packed with a number of different weapons. “Wait.”
Karen watched Quaid as he grabbed something from the back, leaped from the vehicle and head off back towards the tunnel’s exit. Appearing over the ridge Karen could see some of the dead trudging towards them through the snow.
Holding the dog’s collar Jayne looked at Karen.
“What’s he doing?”
Quaid suddenly appeared from the snowy ridge, running towards the vehicle. Many of the dead suddenly appeared, closing in on Quaid. Losing his footing on the ice Quaid fell in the snow and the mass of the dead moved closer. Karen fired a few rounds picking off the ones closest to Quaid.
Getting to his feet Quaid began to run once more towards the vehicle, “Drive,” he panted. “Let’s go, now it’ll really blow.”
Sitting next to Jayne, he reached over and took her hand, holding it tightly. Karen smiled to herself looking at them in the rear view mirror.
The snow quickly evaporated around the furnace and the incinerator as an explosion blew some of the dead into a hundred pieces, sending others flying through the air, their bodies on fire.
Frank and Smith’s walking corpses came across the compound, through the turnstiles, escaping the continuing blasts that obliterated the metal cabins and the crematorium slaughterhouse. The five-storey building caught alight.
Jayne and Quaid looked back at the flames as they reached the sky and saw the two dead men that walked away from the scattered crowd. As the flames began to intensify, breaking glass and small explosions could be seen and heard.
For a brief moment Quaid could have sworn he had seen his scope fall from the roof of the collapsing building.
The two familiar corpses continued to walk through the snow unharmed from the blast their only wounds the rotting bite marks they had sustained in the early hours.
The HMMWV stopped, Karen threw it into reverse.
“Karen, stop.” Quaid put his hand on his sister’s shoulder as she hit the brakes.
“Frank?” Karen questioned
Jayne nodded.
“Smith and Frank,” he leaned forward to grab Karen’s gun from the passenger seat; placing her hand firmly on his she stopped him. She looked up at the sky through the vehicles window as a jet flew overhead. She put the car into gear and continued driving.
“Don’t waste your bullets Quaid,” she insisted as he sat back into his seat. “Frank won’t be around for much longer...”
“Aerodynamic dissemination.” said Jayne.
Quaid looked bewildered.
Karen raised an eyebrow, “Keep up little bro, that was good old seventy-seven. It’s in the process of being produced and deployed globally. The reign of the dead has ended,” she said, giving a smirk in the rear view mirror.
But not over yet, thought Jayne.
“Hey, I got some pictures.” Karen tossed a small compact digital camera to him,
They sat in silence. Not even Karen’s light tone could lift the mood. They reflected over lost family, friends and loved ones, recognising how their own mortality had nearly been called to question.
“Will death ever be normal, is this it? Will we always come back?” asked Quaid.
Neither woman answered.
Quaid pressed a few buttons on the camera and a slideshow began. Their grandmother; the streets of Farmore at night; Karen in Florida. The screen continued to change as pictures of men in a camp, contorted corpses, bloodied bodies, his old school on fire, a yellow sports car, two photos of a startled looking man, soldiers, Jayne in a laboratory, Hardy and his men in action, him and his dog in the HMMWV, scrolled past. Pressing the off button he put down the camera on the seat next to him.
Quaid turned to his sister, “Where are we going?” he asked.
“Until this is really over, the safest place between Farmore and Ravenswood,” Karen rolled her shoulder muscles, “the prison.” Karen scratched her cheek. “There’s still no cause, no explanation for all this,” she gestured around them.
“All we have is the work on seventy-seven.” Jayne replied, “The dead will rise again, just like the sun.”
How we stop that is something else. She thought.
The hefty blade of the plough pushed through the snow, clearing the surface of the road as they made their way southwards through the countryside, forests and mountains.
EPILOGUE
There was limited collateral damage from the blast wave with hardly any fall out, only some minor buildings with structural damage, a few forest fires, gas and electrical explosions, all could be seen and heard by the occupants of the four-wheeled-drive. Everything was now in their favour; Jayne knew the likelihood of any living survivors escaping death from the blast in her hometown was high. The vehicle had considerably rocked but not enough for Karen to lose control and they only felt some nausea and static shocks as the dog yelped. Jayne noted it was unusual to see static electricity in cold and drier air, only ever seeing it in the warm and humid months. She watched as the purple like web of lighting felt its way across the acres of land, and she pictured the bolts bouncing from buildings, cars and windows within the city limits.
While high-yield weapon blast effects models are more predictable, the remaining Military and committees had planed the deployment as well as could be expected, given the lack of testing and unpredictably of any low deployment as height plays such a large factor, a hill or building can block or redirect the blast wave. However, in 77’s case the Farmore valley and Ravenswood’s high-rises worked to their advantage as the pulsating reddish purple bolts of electricity filled the sky, buzzing mini-like lightning bolts of static charge across random interiors and exteriors. Ejecting itself from trees to lampposts and traffic lights and even signposts until finding the dead. The purple light changed colour at times seeming to dance in front and taunt the confused dead hordes, at times it entered and exited the dead through any available orifice in a display of yellow and greens. A number of the dead were blown up into the air as bolts blasted through the heels of their feet. Some were thrown backwards as the charge left their open gullets, others flipped around with their lifeless eyes ejected and melted. Giving out moans and dull screams most were simply shocked into submission at first, similar to being tasered, however, this was no temporal incapacitating stun, to follow was a permanent death that would extinguish their dead pulse forever. Body parts were thrust from some of the corpses. Some caught alight; many crawled in a traumatized frenzy across the floor, those with more nerve endings intact feeling the worst imaginable pain, but as the pulsation reached a crescendo, their brain cores all were horrifically damaged in the upsurge.
Smoke filled the air as the light rose and fell pulsating like a static electrical spherical ball, the moans of the dead had been silenced, their bodies still, finally at rest and there was peace in Ravenswood and Farmore once more.
DEAD CHAMBERS
A washed-out mist engulfed the flickering-lit street of the seemingly empty town. A boy almost naked emerged, his bloated swollen feet walked on the damp tarmac following the central line of the road. One of his arms was missing, and strewn material hung like mouldy spaghetti. It’s only protection from the elements were a pair of stained indigo underwear.
A cold breeze shifted the mist around him as he raised his blue shaded chin, his hair matted with dirt and blood stayed stuck to his face. With a crooked neck he stared intently at the yellow and reddish flickering street light.
“Hey?” called a lone voice. “Anyone?” a sleepy eyed young
blond woman stumbled in the street. She removed a syringe from her arm and tossed it carelessly to the floor.
Am I dead? Did the overdose work? She thought, shivering in white lingerie and pink-towelled dressing gown with matching slippers. She stood at the side of the street with her arms folded, her long wavy hair blew in the wind.
Pattering footsteps headed towards her and she saw the one armed boy appear from the haze. Alarmed she gave out a shriek as the boy leaped up towards her face pushing her off balance; she hit the pavement hard, her gown fell open revealing her voluptuous shape and perfect skin. She held the soil-covered boy back as his teeth shattered at her face. Drooling saliva dripped into her eye and onto her face, with vigour she shoved the boy to one side. She scooted back dirtying her hands and her gown further and lost her slippers as she got to her feet. She tried to run but slipped, twisting her ankle and losing her balance on the wet grass.
The boy held tight onto her red toes as she tried to kick him away. On her front she reached around in the fading light for anything that could help and fortuitously grabbed a pair of rusted sheers. She flipped her body around and the boy fell to his side. The rusted sheers semi-open were stuck swiftly through the boys cheek and eye with all her might, some of his loose skin slipped further from his decomposing face, as he slumped to the mudded grass.
The woman, damp, rose to her feet panting. She steadied herself placing her hands on the tops of her legs; she looked down, the grass blades seemed so clear, she thought. It was the drugs still in her system. She glanced over at the inactive boy and acidly bile came into her mouth. “What the hell has happened?” she mumbled, spiting onto the lawn.
Startled and raising her head slightly, she then stood up and panicked. People, dead people, walked, clumped, dragged and stomped towards her from the darkness of the mist. In just her bra and knickers she ran away from the crowd into the night.
Dead Pulse Page 10
