The Left Series (Book 5): Left On The Run

by Fletcher, Christian

  “Well, give them my regards,” Seamus muttered. “I suppose you want me to let you out.”

  “I’d be eternally grateful,” McElroy said.

  I smiled. It was good to hear the banter between the two men. I liked the Northern Irish accent, as it had a kind of up and down, sing-song rhythm to it.

  Seamus peeked through the small sliding compartment in the door before he let us out into the remains of Belfast City. We donned our ski masks and looked the part as an elite, black ops military unit. The crisp morning air helped my hangover disperse but a dull ache still throbbed between my temples. I couldn’t allow the effects of the booze to cloud my senses. I had to be on the ball as we were heading into dangerous, zombie infested territory and also, we’d possibly have to evade an armed Russian search party.

  Chapter Fifty-Nine

  McElroy led the way through tumbled down buildings and piles of debris at a jogging pace. Smith, Hannigen and I kept up, moving in a vertical line slightly behind McElroy. We waited inside derelict houses and small stores with empty shelves, when the streets outside were occupied by the undead. We crouched in silence, lingering inside the buildings long enough to make a clear breakaway across the streets. I concentrated hard on what I was doing. I wanted to avoid any careless fuck ups on my part. I couldn’t allow myself to undergo any more trips or falls or suffer a lack of focus.

  As we hurriedly crossed some of the streets, I was amazed at the murals emblazoned on the outside walls of some of the buildings. All were hand painted and the detail was meticulous, depicting various freedom fighters, historical and political figures, beside an assortment of flags and logos, supporting a variety of organizations. Some of the dates of battles and movements alongside the wall paintings went back centuries in the past and I felt slightly ignorant I had never realized what a political hot bed Belfast had previously been. I’d visited the south of Ireland, where my parents heralded from but I hadn’t been aware life was so different in the north of the country. I’d heard of the troubles but hadn’t realized how deeply embedded the whole situation had been to the country.

  Now, the city was full of walking corpses but all previous unrest was still in evidence, recorded in time by those murals. Eventually, the wall paintings would fade over time and maybe in the new world, if anybody survived, the old troubles of the past all over the world would be forgotten.

  We headed north, through narrow streets and abandoned houses, through debris strewn backyards and across zombie infested waste grounds, which I guessed used to be public parks. All the while, we stayed out of the clutches of gangs of undead, who roamed the entire vicinity.

  I was grateful for the occasional respite from moving at pace, once we were inside the derelict buildings and waiting for the hordes of zombies to pass by. The brief stops allowed me to catch my breath and slow the burning sensation in my thighs and calves. Even as we ducked down behind broken or mold ridden furniture and kept out of sight from the glassless window frames, I could smell the sour, rotting stench of decaying flesh, wafting from the crowds of undead.

  “We’re nearly at the courthouse now, boys,” McElroy whispered, as we hunkered down in a particularly run down house.

  I briefly glanced around the hovel and saw clumps of mushroom type mildew clinging to the walls. Large holes in the floorboards where the wood had rotted away lay sporadically positioned amongst the room.

  “There’s an underground passage that leads from the courthouse right into the prison,” McElroy continued. “They used to use the passageway to take the prisoners directly to the Gaol after they were convicted. It runs right under the street. We’ll use the passageway so we don’t have to cross the street and try and break in through the big feckin’ gates.”

  I craned my neck and peered out of the window frame. Several undead shambled through the street outside. Smith tapped my leg, telling me to keep out of sight.

  “But we’ll have to watch our step in the old courthouse,” McElroy warned. “The place was derelict and damaged by fire before the outbreak began, so it might be a wee bit run down in there.”

  “What happens if there’s a whole freakin’ army of dead people in the passageway?” Hannigen asked.

  McElroy shook his head. “I very much doubt they’ll be down there. They feed on living flesh and are attracted to populated areas, not dim and dark passageways.”

  I didn’t like the sound of a dim and dark passageway, even if it was supposedly free of zombies.

  “I just hope the damn place ‘aint crawling with rats,” Smith muttered.

  I’d forgotten about his phobia of furry rodents and a small, mean part of me hoped he’d see a rat or two down in the passageway.

  “Okay, we’ll just wait a wee while for these last few feckers to pass and we’ll get going,” McElroy said. “Everybody stay alert and no sudden movements or loud noises. The bastards can still see and hear us, even if we are dressed like shadows.”

  We waited for what seemed like ages for the undead stragglers to plod slowly far enough away from our hiding place. McElroy took a look out onto the street to satisfy himself the coast was clear.

  “All right, we’re good to go but remember what I said,” McElroy whispered.

  He led the way out of the dilapidated house and out onto the street. The sun seemed bright and the dazzle blinded me slightly as my eyes took a little time to focus from the dimness of the shitty hovel we’d just exited. I trod on a brick and lurched slightly to my left, trying to avoid a tumble. Luckily, Smith steadied me with a firm grip on my bicep and we continued on behind McElroy.

  The narrow street led us through the cluster of houses and McElroy hurried towards a gray stone wall, running horizontally on the opposite side of a small lane. The stone wall stood in two separate heights. The section of wall to our right was around head height but the section to our left stood roughly at waist height. A tall, rusting corrugated fence stood behind the wall and a row of spiked metal railings stood atop of the lower section of the stone wall. The whole perimeter looked impenetrable and I wondered how the hell we were going to get inside the grounds. We came to a halt at the edge of the wall and I took a quick glance up and down the lane. I saw packs of undead staggering around at each end of the track and behind us, roaming amongst the small front gardens of the houses.

  McElroy reached upward and grabbed hold of the rusting metal railings. He pulled himself up so he stood on top of the lower section of wall then vaulted over the railings with the agility of a gazelle. The gap between the railings and the corrugated fence can’t have been more than twelve inches wide but McElroy slotted effortlessly between the two obstacles. He pushed on a loose section of the corrugated fence, generating a gap big enough to fit through. After poking his head around the corrugated section of fence, McElroy turned back to us and nodded.

  “All clear,” he whispered, waving us forward. McElroy was obviously familiar with the route as he knew how to easily gain access to the courthouse grounds.

  Hannigen and Smith shouldered their rifles and all three of us reached up for the railings. I hauled myself upwards, using the stone wall as leverage beneath my feet. Hannigen grunted as he tried to lift his heavy frame up the railings. Smith followed McElroy, easily maneuvering himself between the two barriers. I knew Smith was incredibly strong and agile for his age. My feet slipped on the remaining snow and clumps of long damp grass sprouting out from beneath the foot of the railings. I pulled myself straight upward, gripping the railings and standing on top of the lower section of wall.

  “Come on, Wilde,” Smith hissed. “Get over the damn fence.”

  Hannigen grunted louder and he seemed to be floundering at the first hurdle.

  I took another glance up and down the lane. Several zombies shuffled in our direction and a few others began to follow. More undead approached the lane from the housing estate. I wasn’t sure if they had seen us or were simply aimlessly ambling in different tracks. Either way, we’d have to negotiate the hurdles or
we’d soon be surrounded and stuck on the wrong side of the fence.

  Chapter Sixty

  “Catch yourself on, Hannigen and get over this feckin’ railing, you great fat lump,” McElroy growled. “There are dead people coming out from all over the place.”

  “I’m damn well trying,” Hannigen grunted.

  I scrabbled over the railings and caught my jacket on one of the metal spikes. Smith dragged me over the top of the railings and I heard my jacket rip. I was never the most agile of people but I’d never been particularly heavy, a factor of genetics that on occasions had helped me survive through the apocalypse. Smith steadied me as I stumbled onto the ground between the railings and the corrugated fence.

  Hannigen managed to haul himself up the side of the wall as the undead approached from all directions. They had definitely spotted us, making excited snorting and hissing noises. The problem we now faced was our exit route would be cut off if we had to make a hasty retreat using the same path. The undead would gather around where they’d last seen living humans and wait in case we returned. They had no sense of time and would hang around in one spot until something else attracted their attention.

  “Don’t use your firearms unless it’s a last resort,” McElroy said to Smith and I. “The bastards will hear us for miles around if we start shooting,. The last thing we want is a Russian patrol on our asses.”

  “Got it,” Smith muttered, speaking for the both of us.

  Hannigen was taking far too long maneuvering over the railings. Smith and McElroy grabbed hold of the back of his jacket and pulled him over the top of the spikes on top of the railings. Smith freed up his rifle sling that snagged around the metal spikes. Hannigen toppled head first into the gap between the fences and sprawled in an ungainly heap on the ground. Smith and McElroy hauled him upright and he stood for a few seconds, gasping heavily while holding the railing tops.

  “Jesus, Hannigen,” McElroy sighed. “I think you need to lose a few pounds, man.”

  “The way things are going we’ll all starve to death in a couple of week’s time anyhow,” Hannigen panted.

  “That’s why we’re on this little jaunt, in case it had escaped your tiny mind,” McElroy taunted.

  I got the impression that McElroy and Hannigen weren’t exactly the best of friends.

  “Okay, guys, let’s just get going shall we,” Smith interrupted, pointing to the oncoming tide of undead. “I know those zombies can’t climb fences but we don’t want to be hanging around here too long or we might meet some of their pals around the courthouse, if they hear all the damn noise.”

  “Aye, you’re right, Smith,” McElroy muttered, nodding his head. “Come on; let’s get going for a wee dander. Watch out for the strands of barbed wire.” He pushed on the loose corrugated panel and slipped through the gap.

  We maneuvered ourselves, stepping sideways along the narrow space between the fences and followed McElroy through the opening beside the corrugated sheet. Streaks of melting snow lay across a wide area to the rear of the courthouse. The blacktop surface beneath the snow glistened wet in the sunlight. I guessed the area was used for a parking lot when the courthouse was fully operational, however long ago that was.

  McElroy trod cautiously across the parking lot, hunched over his AK47 rifle towards the main building. I gazed over the courthouse as we followed in McElroy’s footsteps. The old building was huge and imposing and looked as though it had been derelict for a long time. Shrubs and grass sprouted from the guttering and patches of green algae and ivy clung to the cream colored block walls. Orange streaks from rusty water smeared the outer walls over places where the gutters leaked. The windows on both the two floors were covered with rusting, black metal boards and I noticed a balcony, surrounded by decorative stone balustrade running along the side of the upper level. Tall windows stood behind the balcony and the stone frames were blackened by fire at the top and sides. Some of the boards covering the windows on the upper level had fallen away, revealing a dark interior beyond. At some angles, I saw daylight through the upper windows where the roof had either disintegrated or been burned away by the fire.

  “How old is this place?” I asked in a whisper.

  “I think it was built in about 1850, something like that,” McElroy muttered. “Hasn’t been used since the 1990’s though and some bright spark tried to burn the place to the ground a few years ago, so they did.”

  “Was it somebody who was convicted here once?” I asked.

  McElroy shrugged. “Who knows? It doesn’t really matter anymore. You know, it’s quite ironic really. This courthouse was derelict long before the outbreak of the disease and here it is still standing, while the rest of Ulster is in virtual tatters.”

  “Zombie, nine-o’clock,” Smith hissed.

  We instinctively spun to our left and saw a weasel faced, skinny guy with shoulder length hair lurking beside the fence at the side of the courthouse. He opened his mouth and growled at us before padding across the parking lot in our direction.

  Smith shouldered his Armalite rifle and aimed down the barrel. “You want me to take him out?” he asked McElroy.

  McElroy glanced in all directions. “No, don’t fire your weapon. It’ll only excite the neighbors. This wee fuck is all on his own and won’t cause us any bother. I’ll sort this out.”

  McElroy slung his rifle across his shoulder before bending down and picking up a loose brick from the ground. He marched towards the weasel faced zombie to meet him head on.

  “Hey, Big Lad, how about yer?” McElroy said to the zombie.

  Weasel Face only emitted a throaty snarl in response.

  I made a mental note to never pick a fight with McElroy. As quickly as I could blink, he swung his fist and smashed the brick into the side of Weasel Face’s head, connecting the hard, pointed right angle directly against the zombie’s temple. The sound of the solid object connecting with bone and skin made a dull thump and Weasel Face immediately went down on his side. The zombie’s head hit the blacktop hard and I thought if the blow with the brick hadn’t killed him then surely the impact against the ground would have.

  McElroy tossed the brick away and signaled to the courthouse with a sideways jerk of his head. “Come on, boys, we’ve work to do.”

  We followed McElroy to a side door where the boarding had fallen away. The black metal sheet sat sagging away from the doorframe at an odd angle. McElroy tugged his rifle off his shoulder and pushed open the rotting wooden door. The hinges creaked as the door swung inwards and McElroy stepped inside. I hesitantly followed him with Smith and Hannigen traipsing along behind.

  Surprisingly, the old docks and rows of wooden pews remained in place inside the courthouse, albeit in a bad state. White paint blistered from the walls in patches, revealing the bare stone blocks. The desks, docks, pews and floor were coated with a dusting of debris and loose chips of plaster, fallen from the crumbling ceiling. The glass partitions that the accused people would have stood behind, separating them from the rest of the courtroom, were all broken or had been smashed.

  Our feet crunched on the fragments of rubble as we trod through the courtroom. The air felt gritty and a musty damp stench hung heavily inside the interior. I didn’t know if the boards covering most of the windows were a contributing factor but the interior felt gloomy and depressing, as though the place had witnessed much suffering and misery in the past. A cold shiver ran up and down my spine as I glanced around the decaying courtroom.

  McElroy led us through the building’s lobby, which was in an equally tumbled down state. He stopped when we came to a black metal staircase, leading down into total darkness. McElroy pulled up his ski mask so his face was exposed. He felt around in his jacket pocket and took out his flashlight. The three of us also lifted up our masks and I was glad to get the itchy woolen garment off of my face.

  “Okay, keep your eyes open and mind how you go,” McElroy whispered as he turned on the flashlight. “Keep following me and don’t stop for any reason,
despite what you might see or hear, got it?”

  Smith and I nodded, even though I had no clue what he meant about seeing or hearing things. Would there be zombies down there or was he just talking about rats? I glanced down into the inky blackness and didn’t want to head on down and be engulfed in its veil.

  McElroy started walking down the metal staircase. The flashlight beam flickered across the circular shaped, brick ceiling above the walkway. I waited until Smith and Hannigen descended before I followed them down. I breathed in deeply, trying to ignore the churning, ominous feeling in the pit of my stomach.

  Chapter Sixty-One

  The staircase led down to a gray, chunky looking door, similar to the one which guarded the entrance to the tower block. McElroy shone his flashlight across the door that stood slightly open. I felt an icy cold breeze flowing from the tunnel beyond. Goosebumps erupted on my skin and a chill ran down my back, as though somebody was tipping the contents of an ice bucket down my neck.

  McElroy pulled the door wide open and I thought I heard a long, throaty sigh from somewhere in the blackness of the tunnel. A stench of damp and decay wafted in the breeze that blew directly in my face.

  The flashlight eerily illuminated the strange semi circular shape of the tunnel’s walls and ceiling. Dark, box shaped lights that once illuminated the tunnel hung to the left of the gray, concrete and red brick wall. A wooden handrail ran along the sides of the tunnel at waist height and disappeared into the darkness ahead.

  I closely followed Smith, who was in front of me as we headed into the tunnel. McElroy led, walking at a slow, cautious pace.

  I nearly cried out and instinctively turned around when something cold brushed across the back of my neck. It almost felt as though somebody had touched me with their finger. Nobody stood behind me. I could still see the door standing open behind us in the very faint light.