Downfall

by Michael S. Gardner

  “The name’s Jason, but everyone calls me Jay. I saw the van from the dealership. Then I saw what you were running from. We might want to seal this place off, ‘cause they’re coming from all directions.”

  “Shit.” Cole kicked the wall. “I knew our luck would run out.”

  “Let’s just hope they’re having better luck at the house,” Matt said. He turned to Jay. “How many?”

  “Too many,” Jay said. “And they’re in a hurry.”

  Matt and Cole rushed to the bay door to find a pack of runners had already made it into the lot. The men opened fire with their assault rifles. The last zombie dropped just feet in front of Cole and slid so close that he had to sidestep it; he winced from the pain in his hurt leg and looked to Matt. “Too close.”

  A dense crowd of creepers loomed in the distance.

  “I’m bringing the van in,” Matt said and made for the driver’s seat. “Shut the bay door once I’m in.”

  “I don’t know how,” Cole replied.

  “I do,” Dennis said. “Used to work here before all this shit happened.” He stepped toward a switch near where Matt had turned the lights on and flipped it.

  As the bay door was shutting, more runners split off from the approaching horde.

  “It’s not looking like we’re getting out of here for a while,” Dennis said.

  “We need to barricade every entry,” Angela said. “It shouldn’t be hard to keep them out.”

  “It’s not keeping them out that I’m worried about, Angela.” Cole looked to the van. “We’re going to need to fight them off, and we damn sure don’t have enough ammunition for that.”

  “Guys, guys,” Tank Top said. “I’m sure we could put our heads together and come up with something.”

  Matt thought for a few moments, recollecting something he’d seen in the parking lot. “This guy’s right. I mean, look around. We just need to get creative, and I think I have a good idea on where to start.”

  CHAPTER 28

  The runner had a piece of Alex’s forehead in its mouth when Jeff kicked in the door. It snarled at him, fresh blood trickling down its face, and returned to gorging on the boy.

  “You motherfucker!” Jeff stalked across the room and put a bullet in the back of the thing’s head.

  Yet another death Tim could have prevented if he hadn’t been too involved in his pills and delusions of sanctuary. And this one hurt Jeff the most. He pulled the runner’s corpse off Alex and shoved it aside, ignoring the moaning drifting through the open window next to the bed.

  Alex’s eyes were wide open, dead. Staring right at Jeff. The sight fueled the soldier with such hatred that he could practically feel it coursing through his veins. In the few moments between Alex’s scream and Jeff’s arrival, the rotter managed to rip the boy’s throat out, leaving bloody, pulpy tissue dangling and dripping blood onto the kid’s lap. Part of his right cheek and ear were missing as well. His hands were balled into fists, knuckles white. There was no doubt the kid couldn’t have fought this thing off, and he probably suffocated while bleeding out, watching, feeling himself being eaten alive.

  Jeff shut Alex’s staring eyes, backed away, and took aim. “Sorry, kid.” He fired one round into Alex’s skull.

  From the view the window offered, Jeff could see the pit was catching most of the rotters, but not all. Some were in the front yard, joining the assault on the house. He looked at the .22 and shrugged off the thought of using it. Going down there and confronting death face to face, killing it, defiling it up close and personal, felt more appropriate.

  ***

  By now the good doctor was well past his normal realm of intoxication. His head spun, storming with thoughts unthinkable to a sane mind. He reached the basement door, already forgetting about the dead boy. Something more important lay in front of him, just down the steps.

  Mary was unconscious, sprawled on the floor of the basement. Tim made his way down, slowly, careful not to take a misplaced step as she obviously had. From this vantage, the woman lay motionless, speechless, and seemed quite attractive. Her white undershirt lifted up just a little, revealing her flat, tanned stomach. Tim hadn’t noticed before, but her belly button was pierced, and it was devilishly enticing. Her breasts stood like small mountains, perky and full of youth; unfortunately hidden beneath that damned shirt.

  He took another step, then another, finally reaching her unconscious form.

  Tim leaned down and brushed away the few strands of hair distorting her face. Her lips were so thin. He wanted to kiss them and leaned down to sniff her very essence. Even in times such as these, Mary had made it a point to smell good. Whether it was a matter of soap or shampoo or something else didn’t matter; she was as intoxicating as the almost-empty bottle of pills rattling in his pocket.

  “My, you are beautiful.” He leaned down to steal a kiss, something he might not ever have done before the line separating right from wrong faded with the onset of his new addiction.

  “What the hell are you doing, Tim?”

  He turned on a dime and saw Jeff at the top of the stairs. His face was red, lips flustering.

  Tim shifted his face so that it was his left ear pressed against those beautifully thin lips. “Checking to see if the young lady’s still breathing.” He looked up to Jeff. “She is, thankfully. I’m not sure if there is any real damage to her, though. We’ll know when she awakens.”

  Jeff gave him an odd glare and said, “Take care of her, Tim. I’ll be back.”

  “And where is it you’re going?” He got to his feet, staggering a bit.

  Jeff revealed one of those infernal assault weapons that Tim would have no part of. “I’m going to take care of our guests,” he said, and then he was gone.

  “Make sure to shut the…”

  Tim sighed. Couldn’t he have at least shut the door, giving him and Mary a little private time? After all, Jeff did want him to examine her, right?

  Dr. Grant made his way up the stairs, legs as flimsy as wet paper, and shut the door. There was a lock on the knob; he pressed it.

  It was better this way. The soldier would do what he did best while Tim made sure the girl was “all right.” Doctor Grant half-admired Jeff’s blind determination to go into battle knowing the odds were against him.

  But not enough to join him.

  ***

  Jeff had five magazines spread throughout his pockets and one already in the AK-47, locked and loaded. Firing on the move wouldn’t be his strong point, so he would have to make each shot true. His life and the lives of two others depended on it. He stole a glance at the clock on the microwave and saw that it was nearing 4 p.m. Doubts about Matt, Cole, and Angela returning swirled in his head. They had said they’d be back by now.

  He approached the back door and heard the basement door shut behind him. It was probably a good idea, at least safer. Something about the way Dr. Grant had been huddled over Mary made him uncomfortable, but that didn’t matter, couldn’t matter. At least not now. The dead were playing their song on the back and front doors, even some of the windows. All were boarded up good and tight, but they would never leave, never give up. Too much noise had been made; there was no denying the human presence inside this house.

  Jeff took in a deep breath, exhaled, opened the door, and backed away. Five corpses dropped to the ground from the pressure of the others pushing them inward. Jeff took five well-placed shots and started on those making their way inside. The door was a good choke point and allowed him the time to aim appropriately. It eventually got to the point where the doorway was completely blocked off with a barricade of cadavers, and Jeff still had nearly half a magazine left. There were traces of moving bodies beyond the pile, but there was no way any of them was strong enough to push its way through; they couldn’t even break through the reinforced wood.

  Reaching the front door, Jeff realized the same strategy wouldn’t work here, and it dawned on him they probably wouldn’t be staying at this house much longer. Mary was likel
y injured and would have to be carried out rather than walking out or climbing out of a window upstairs. Jeff shook his head in disgust, fighting with the part of him that wanted to abandon the place. These people had done so much here, and it would be shameful to simply let it all go, but that little girl had brought nothing with her except death.

  And death just kept coming.

  ***

  The gunshots above startled Tim. First they were at the back door, now they were at the front. But it didn’t keep the good doctor from rubbing his fingers up and down Mary’s arm, the feel of her soft skin giving him gooseflesh. It had been so long since he’d been with a woman, he barely remembered the feel of one—life with the wife hadn’t been the greatest in the recent years. One little caress couldn’t hurt, could it? His hand brushed ever so softly against her right breast. The memories flooded in. He watched her chest rise and fall for what had to be minutes, dreaming of the past.

  Unconsciously, he heard the knocking at the basement window. Through his haze of memories, he didn’t quite register it as a threat. He even looked over once to see the wood from the basement window shake from the vibration, yet he only smiled. The pills had taken Dr. Grant to a whole new level of fucked up—to the point where he thought the hands coming through the now open window were hallucinations.

  ***

  Jeff cleared the front porch, nearly being bitten and scratched in the process. He managed to push those creatures he couldn’t immediately kill over the railings and back into the yard. He slammed the door shut behind him and emptied his mag into a group of creeping rotters which had negotiated their way past the vehicles.

  Several had made it across, and a few of them were runners charging from the left and the right. Jeff felt his body switch to autopilot; let it do what the military had trained it to do. He saw himself jump down the front porch. The first of the runners came down the sights, and the weapon lifted a little as he sent a bullet into the eye of his target. The second runner caught his eye for a moment, reminding him of one of his buddies from boot camp. The thing wore fatigues and was about the same size of his former comrade. What remained of its distinguishable features bore so much resemblance that Jeff pulled the trigger twice.

  He swept his weapon side to side, targeting each creature unconsciously and firing when instinct told him to. Recoil was absorbed through a haze of hatred and anxiety. In these moments he knew in his heart and mind that the waves of the dead would not falter, but would only grow with time. The driveway, the woods, the back and side yards were all filling with the hungering things.

  More shots were fired. Most hit their mark. Some didn’t. With each failed attempt, Jeff’s sense of insecurity blossomed that much more. Had he unlimited ammunition, he might be able to fend off the approaching dead. But those were not the circumstances in which he found himself trapped. Ammunition would eventually run out.

  Their safe house had been compromised.

  The pit had failed.

  They had to leave.

  As rotters slowly surrounded the house, he heard the piercing wail of another screamer.

  The world had different plans for the survivors. Luck had a separate agenda. Fate, nothing but a series of failures.

  He backed toward the door, ejecting an empty magazine. Jeff couldn’t help feeling as if he’d failed everyone.

  ***

  A sharp pain coursed through Mary’s head. The closer she came to consciousness, the more she felt a soft sensation running up and down her right arm.

  She opened her eyes to see Dr. Grant staring at her, a creepy yet pathetic gaze in his glossy eyes.

  “What are you doing?” she said, seeing Tim stroking her arm with his index finger.

  “Are you all right, my dear? You fell down the stairs a few minutes ago.”

  Mary lifted herself up and brought her right hand to the back of her head.

  “What happened?”

  “I was hoping you could tell me.”

  She searched her memory and found all she could remember was that the undead had made it inside. After that, everything was a blank.

  “Where’s Jeff? Alex?” Her heart rate picked up a bit not seeing them.

  Tim’s odd expression melted into a frown. Gunfire echoed from out front. Mary did her best to retain her balance as she stood. The tides of unconsciousness and that damn pinging in the back of her head made it difficult, but she managed.

  She repeated the question.

  “Alex is dead, Mary.” Tim looked up with a dreadful sigh. “I’m afraid they’ve gotten in.”

  “Jeff?” she replied instantly, fighting back the urge to let her emotions free.

  He nodded toward the front of the house.

  The gunfire ceased a moment later. Mary cringed as the odor of rot wafted to her nose. She turned toward the basement window to see that it had been breached. Rotting limbs sought purchase, swiping at the air inside.

  “Did they make it back?”

  “I’m afraid, my dear, that your boyfriend and his friends still have not returned.”

  It was like a dagger to the heart, cutting through breast and bone, twisting and wrenching.

  “By the looks of things, Mary, we are going to have to leave. I’m sorry.”

  “No.” Tears welled. Her face lit with the fire of loss. “No. We can’t. They’re still out there.”

  “And so are the infected.” For the first time, it seemed to Mary as if Tim were being sincere, sensitive to what had to be a devastating turn of fortune. His eyes, however, hid something behind the drugged up glaze. “If we stay, I’m afraid we’re all going to die.”

  Mary listened for more gunfire. There was none.

  A million words ran through her mind. Not one of them could make its way from her throat. She was at a loss, figurative and literal. Her breaths grew heavy, and she had to steady herself against the basement wall beside the stairs from which she had fallen. One moment she cast her eyes on the zombies seeking entry through the window, the next she witnessed the monster that was Dr. Timothy Grant form a saddened smile.

  “All here is lost, dear Mary.” He lowered his head.

  Another glance revealed one of the things had forced its head inside. Burned and rotten, the thing roared like a predatory animal.

  Mary found herself in a cage, surrounded by a pack of them.

  “Come with me.” Tim extended a shaky, frail hand.

  This was all too unreal. Everything seemed under control just minutes before. Now she was down here with this madman who, unfortunately, had been right all along. Mary couldn’t help but feel like an idiot, a cavewoman in a world of intellect.

  With a heavy heart and a withered soul, she took Tim’s hand.

  Before she took her first step, the front door of the house slammed shut. Something dragged across the floor above. There was a banging at the basement door. Something grabbed the handle. Mary searched briefly for something to use as a weapon, but everything was either upstairs or in one of the vehicles outside.

  The banging continued as whatever was on the other side jiggled the locked door handle.

  Tim backed away, behind Mary, as the door flew open with force, bouncing against the wall. In the entry was the silhouette of a man.

  “Grab your gear,” Jeff yelled down. “We’re bailing.”

  CHAPTER 29

  Matt glanced to Angela and Cole then he turned back Jay.

  “You guys ready?” he asked.

  Each one nodded.

  “All right.” Matt took one more look at the three creepers ambling between the derelict vehicles in the front parking lot. The snow painted a depressing image on the buildings across the street. The vast stillness as the flakes danced with a slight gust fogged everything in the distance, shadowing their temporary safe haven in a palpable gloom. Taking a deep breath, he flipped the switch and activated the automatic sliding front door and followed his friends out.

  “I got John Goodman,” Jay yelled out as he ran to the north sid
e of the lot. He fired two shots and watched the fat creeper’s legs buckle.

  “Really?” Cole said as he dropped an emaciated woman with stringy hair. He turned to Jay with a grin. “John Goodman’s not the preferred nomenclature, dude.”

  Angela and Matt ran for the yellow truck, safeties off.

  Cole took aim and downed the last creeper with a double tap.

  “Watch me,” Matt said to Angela as he slid into the front fender. He bashed the driver’s window out, unlocked the door, and slipped into the seat. Heart racing—

  “We’ve got runners!” Angela screamed.

  –Matt flipped down the visor, hoping that a set of keys dropped.

  “Shit!” He scanned the litter-strewn passenger floorboard and—

  “Move, man, move,” Jay said.

  He helped Matt out of the seat. “I got this.”

  Angela’s rifle clattered, and three runners passing the side of the store collapsed. Cole stepped beside her and took one more out.

  Matt glanced across the street and then to the runners. A shadow in his peripheral caught his attention. He turned toward a snow-covered sedan and squinted.

  “Guys,” he said. “I think we got us a screamer over there.”

  “Angela.” Cole tapped her shoulder. “Do not let anything get to this truck. Okay?”

  Angela nodded and kept her sights trained to the store’s side.

  Cole motioned for Matt to follow him. They jogged over to the sedan. As they reached the vehicle, a load roar from the truck’s engine sounded from behind. Matt took the rear of the car while Cole took the front. They slowly advanced until the screamer came into sight ahead of them. The thing just stood staring, its hands balled into fists.

  As the screamer began a low, deep growl, Matt lifted his 556 and put a bullet between its eyes.

  “The door,” Cole said, pointing to the unguarded entry.

  A small group of creepers rounded the other side of the store, but Tank Top, a carpenter named Adam, ran out peppered them with buckshot.