by Lee, Damien
“Relax, he’s dead.”
As if to mock Terry’s judgment, the zombie lurched forward and tore into his leg. His screams made Amy’s hair stand on end. Both she and Ben rushed over, kicking out at his assailant. Its grip on Terry was lost and it rolled onto its back. In an instant, Ben stamped on its head. Once. Twice, with the third time crushing its face inwards. The movements ceased, but Ben kept stomping.
Terry staggered away from the elevator, whimpering as blood poured from his leg. Amy helped him to the ground.
“You’re going to be okay,” she said as he lay back against the floor.
She delicately rolled up his trouser leg. The wound was the size of a tennis ball and was close to the bone. She looked over at Ben, who continued to stamp on the head of the corpse. Its features had been smashed into a bloody pulp, the skull shattered into fragments.
“Ben, I need your help over here!”
She took off her cardigan and wrapped it around Terry’s wound. The white fabric instantly shone red as the blood seeped through.
“What do you need?” Ben panted.
“I need gauze and bandages.”
“We haven’t explored this floor yet. There might be more of them.”
“I need bandages otherwise he could die.” She whispered through gritted teeth. They looked down at Terry. His face had adopted a pale white hue, his breath laboured.
“Okay, I’ll go,” Ben said. “Where will I find them?”
“Look for a supply trolley, I need gauze, bandages and sterile water.”
Ben nodded and rushed away, leaving Amy with the stricken man. She crouched beside him.
“Stay conscious, Terry.”
“It hurts,” he mumbled, his eyes beginning to falter.
“I know. Ben has gone to get bandages. In the meantime, focus on your breathing. I want you to take slow, steady breaths.”
She monitored his inhalations, breathing in time with him as the man began to calm.
An almighty bang echoed around the ward. The pair flinched. Amy stared at the barricaded door. Another crash shook it in its frame, causing the metal cabinet to rock.
“What the hell is that?” Terry gasped. He tried to look up as a third strike echoed around the room, louder than ever.
“Shit!” Ben sprinted past the door holding a handful of materials. “They’re going crazy out there.”
Amy tried not to listen as she gathered the supplies. She flushed the wound with the sterile water, causing Terry to hiss in pain.
“We’re nearly done,” she said, raising her voice to be heard over the clamour. She packed the wound with gauze before wrapping it in bandages. Satisfied the blood was no longer seeping through, she looked around the ward and saw an upturned wheelchair in the corner.
“Ben, I need that wheelchair.”
He nodded and duly retrieved it before helping Amy lift the wounded man. Terry hissed in pain as they lowered him into the chair, but the crescendo of blows from the door drowned out his protests.
“We need to do something fast,” Ben said. “That door won’t hold much longer.”
Amy followed his gaze and found the door buckling. Even as she looked on, the upper part started to crack.
“Damn!”
Ben darted over and pressed his weight against the cabinet, using all his strength to keep the door in its place. Both Amy and Terry looked on as he tried in vain to repel the invaders.
“I can’t hold it!” he yelled as another strike sent him reeling back.
Amy scanned the ward, looking for anything else to create a barricade. Her gaze fell on one of the many beds in the side room. Leaving Terry behind, she ran to the room and manoeuvred the gurney out into the corridor.
“Move!”
Ben leapt aside as she slammed the bed into the metal cabinet. Applying the brakes, Amy stepped back to observe the durability of the barricade with the addition of the large bed. The door still shook in its frame, but the added bulk of the gurney held it in place.
“We need to move,” Ben said. His eyes remained locked on the shuddering door frame. “That barrier won’t last.”
“What do you suggest?” Amy looked up at him as he tore his eyes away and began scanning the ward.
“The lift. It’s our only way out.”
“No way!” Terry snapped from his perch on the other side of the room. “If those things are waiting for us down there, we’ll be dead as soon as the doors open.”
“You were all for the idea a few minutes ago!”
“That was before I got crippled by that fucker.” Terry spat, pointing an accusatory finger at the corpse next to the elevator. Amy felt the tension rise between the two men once more and for a second time she resorted to playing mediator.
“Stop!” She shouted, partly out of frustration, but also to be heard over the thunderous banging at the door. “Isn’t there a way we can just climb on top of the lift and send it down that way? Then, if the doors open and a bunch of those things come pouring in, we would be safe.”
Amy looked between the two men.
“And suppose they do come in, we’ll be trapped there,” Terry said. “At least here we have room to breathe.”
“Not for long,” Ben countered. “In a few minutes they’ll be in here with us.”
Not waiting for a response, Amy ran towards the elevator and stepped inside.
“Hold on!”
She ignored Terry’s outburst and glanced at the roof of the carriage. The hatch was closed. She turned as Ben approached.
“Need a hand?” he asked. Amy nodded and stepped aside, allowing Ben entry. She watched him reach up and push the hatch. It remained shut.
“It won’t open.”
“Of course it won’t open,” Terry yelled, trying to be heard over the barrage of strikes against the door. “It can only be opened from the top side. Otherwise, anyone could get in there.”
“You said you climbed down?”
“I did, but there’s a latch that locks once it’s closed.”
“Fine, we’ll take our chances in the lift.”
“Wait,” Terry said. “There’s a way you could get above the carriage.”
“How?”
“You two climb through the ceiling and make your way over to the elevator shaft. There’s a maintenance hatch that will give you access to the lift. I’ll wait inside the carriage and then just pull me up.”
Ben almost managed a contradictory remark, but the sound of splintering wood stopped him. All three stared at the door as it started to come away from its hinges.
“Okay, what do we do?” Amy urged.
“Ben, stand on that desk and push one of the ceiling tiles aside.”
Ben complied and scaled the desk. He reached up and punched a hand through one of the square tiles.
“They’re foam! How the hell is that going to hold us?”
“You climb on the pipes,” Terry retorted. “Look through the gap, there are loads of thick pipes up there.”
More snapping wood came from the buckling barricade.
“I see them.”
“Jump up, grab a hold of the biggest pipe and lift yourself in.”
“Will it hold?”
“As long as you grab it near the brackets holding it up.”
“Are you sure?”
“I service these pipes, of course I’m sure!”
Ben nodded and jumped through the gap in the ceiling. Amy watched as he dragged himself up, his legs dangling momentarily before they too vanished.
“C’mon!” Ben’s voice sounded muffled above them.
Amy stepped over to the desk.
“Be careful not to put any of your weight on the ceiling tiles,” Terry said. “They won’t hold you. And don’t put weight on the middle of the pipes. Stick to the fixings.”
The second hinge on the door broke.
Amy nodded and climbed onto the table. She looked through the gap in the ceiling and saw Ben’s face appear out of the gloom.
“Let’s go.”
“I can’t jump that high,” Amy stammered, panic starting to surface.
“Just jump,” Ben said. “I’ll help you up.”
A large gap appeared in the corner of the door. A dozen eager hands reached through, groping the air.
“Move!” Terry roared. His outburst spurred Amy into action. She leapt high into the air; her outstretched arms caught by Ben.
“Gotcha.” He hoisted her through the gap until she could feel the cool touch of the pipe.
“Pull yourself up, I’m heading to the lift,” Terry shouted.
Amy wormed her way up through the multitude of pipes until she was comfortably perched on the largest one. She looked back through the gap as Terry wheeled himself away.
With a final crack, the door gave way, providing a gap big enough for the eager attackers to gain entry. The shrieks of delight screeched through the air as the undead poured into the room. Amy closed her eyes tight and clapped hands over both ears. She couldn’t bear to hear the man being eaten alive. It was too much. She sat on the pipe for what seemed like an eternity, humming to herself to drown out the murmuring chorus below. She shrieked as a hand clasped her shoulder. She looked through the gloom at Ben.
“It’s fine,” he said. “He made it.”
“What?”
“He got into the lift. The doors are closed. He’s fine.”
Amy listened to the sounds below. The zombies had found another barricade as they hammered on the lift door. She felt the tightness in her lungs loosen. Although Terry was an obnoxious old man, she was thankful he was still alive. Her relief turned to wonderment as a thought entered her mind.
“Why don’t they just press the button?” she whispered, almost as if the creatures might overhear and take her advice.
Ben shrugged his shoulders. “They’ve been at it for a few seconds and not one of them has pressed it so far.”
Before Amy could question the intellectual capacity of their attackers, Terry’s voice echoed through the shaft.
“Are you two coming to help me or what?” he shouted. “I can’t stay here forever.”
Amy looked past Ben and down their intended escape route. The crisscrossing pipes allowed little room for manoeuvrability, and she couldn’t even see the hatch leading to the elevator shaft.
“I’m not sure we’ll be able to get across here!” Amy shouted back. “There’s not much room to move.”
“You need to get over here.”
“It’s fine,” Ben replied, “They can’t open the doors. We’ll get to you soon.”
“Never mind soon. You need to get here now!”
“We can’t see a way across yet.”
“Well, you need to find a way across. At three o’clock there’s a hot water release on the pipes. You’ll be burned alive in there!”
The pair cast each other a worried glance. Amy looked at the illuminated hands on her watch. It was 14:50.
12
The prison was filled with the gleeful shrieks of the undead and the screams of those they were feasting on. Gunshots sounded from a distance as more of the guards were devoured.
“We’ll go above the hall,” McAllister told the prisoners behind him. “It’s a bloodbath down there.”
The six men quietly rushed through the corridors, listening for any sign of the lunatics. There didn’t seem to be any nearby, at least none that could be heard. Frank glanced behind them as they turned down another corridor. The last thing he wanted, being at the rear of the procession, was to be attacked by somebody chasing them. He looked back towards the front of the group where McAllister stood, his shotgun poised. In the middle of the congregation, Gus spoke in a hushed whisper to Tony. The hunched man was nodding in response. Frank frowned. Now what was he planning?
“How much further, McAllister?” Gus hissed. “We’re sitting ducks out here.”
“Just over this balcony and then down to the fire doors,” the guard replied.
He glanced both ways before stepping onto the metal grid overlooking the great hall. The rest of the cons followed, staring in disbelief at the massacre below. Frank eyed the scene in awe. Strewn limbs, innards and pools of blood concealed the prison floor. The macabre display served as a grisly memento from his army days; memories he longed to repress. He looked up as a shriek filled the air.
“There’s another one,” Craddock yelped as an undead con darted over the walkway. Frank strained to see upfront, looking past the countless bodies. The sound of the demented man filled the air as his feet slapped against the metal grid. McAllister levelled his weapon, waiting for the creature to get close.
“Don’t be wasting bullets on this piece of shit!” Razor snapped. “Let Tony deal with it.”
He pulled McAllister aside, pushing his bodyguard forward to meet the lunatic. “Do me proud, Tony.”
The colossus remained silent, his arms outstretched. Frank looked on, expecting to see another demonstration of the man’s fierce strength. When the attacker reached him, Tony grabbed the man by his shirt and lifted him off his feet. The undead prisoner snarled before Tony hurled him over the railings. The con fell through the air, hitting the ground with bone-crushing force.
“Good boy.” Gus grinned, patting the huge man on the back. “I think we should let Tony stay upfront with you, McAllister.”
The guard lifted his hands in submission before leading the men onwards. Frank followed, looking down at the shattered remains of the crazed prisoner. His heart skipped a beat when four undead guards ran beneath the bridge. They exchanged a glance between them and looked up at the escaping prisoners. Seeing their prey crossing the walkway, they emitted a gleeful screech and sprinted through a door.
“I think we’ve got company,” Frank told the rest of the group as they neared the end of the hallway.
“Where?”
“Four of them just went through the door down there.” He pointed towards the spot the men vanished.
“Then they’re going to cut us off before we can reach the exit.” McAllister groaned. “C’mon we’ve got to be quick.”
The men increased their pace as they left the metal walkway and made their way down another hall. The screaming and gunshots seemed to get closer as they followed McAllister and Tony around a corner. Frank looked on as Gus pulled Zielinski closer, whispering something in his ear. Frank tried to get closer to overhear what was said as they reached the top of a staircase.
“We’re almost there, it’s—”
The sound of hurried footsteps stole McAllister’s tongue. Frank watched as he aimed the shotgun down, looking for the source of the noise. The men waited, all staring at the foot of the stairway, hoping to catch a glimpse of any potential attackers. The sound came again, only this time accompanied by four flesh-hungry guards racing up the steps towards them. McAllister didn’t wait for them to approach. As soon as they fell into his line of sight, he fired the shotgun. The rubber bullet struck the first zombie in the head, sending it staggering back into the others. The guard reloaded as the remaining three clambered over the motionless corpse and continued towards their prey. A further shot rang out as McAllister fired a second bullet.
“C’mon lads, there’s only two left,” Gus Razor yelled as the second zombie fell. “We can take them!”
He shoved Tony and Craddock forward as the remaining attackers reached them. With the prisoners further down the steps, Frank could see the turmoil unfold. Tony grabbed one by the head, repeating his previous spectacle by slamming him into the wall. A crunch split through the air and the corpse slid down into a crumpled heap on the floor. The final zombie lunged at McAllister, only to be deflected by the barrel of his shotgun. Frank stared with wide eyes. The undead corpse was none other than Daniels; the scrawny guard Razor had knocked unconscious the previous day.
A right hook from Tony thwarted a second lunge at McAllister. The men watched as the undead guard lost his footing and stumbled into Craddock. Without warning, a high-pit
ched scream came from the prisoner as the zombie tore off part of his cheek. Chewing hungrily, the monster seized Craddock in a pincer-like embrace, dragging him to the ground.
“Fucking hell, don’t just stand there, Tony!” Razor snapped. “Give the lad a hand.”
The giant made his way over to the grappling men, just as the zombie’s eager teeth ripped away Craddock’s nose. The pitch of his screams intensified as Tony dragged the flailing attacker away. Frank looked on as Zielinski rushed to aid Craddock.
“Is that the last of them?” Gus asked, stepping over the two men and making his way down the staircase. Frank followed, watching as Tony crushed the zombie’s head under his foot.
“I think so,” McAllister muttered, reloading his shotgun. “How’s Craddock?”
“Looks like John Travolta in Face/Off.” Razor chuckled, stepping past the guard. “He’ll live.”
Razor looked down each of the corridors, which led to a different section of the prison.
“He’s dead.”
Frank turned to look at Zielinski, who had joined them. The motionless body of Craddock lay on the steps.
“What do you mean dead? He only lost his hooter,” Razor countered, marching up to the Polish inmate.
“Yeah, and now he’s dead.”
“How?”
“I don’t know,” Zielinski replied. “He might’ve had a heart attack? Go check him if you want.”
“Tony, check him,” Gus said, running a hand through his greying hair.
The giant strode over to the staircase as Razor spoke once more.
“I can’t believe this is happening. You lot are dropping like flies.”
“We have to keep moving,” Frank said.
“And what annoys the shit out of me is how we haven’t found Henderson yet. I’d love to give his corpse a good kicking.”
“He should be here,” McAllister told them. “Unless he’s already escaped.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s behind all this,” Razor continued. “Seems like something he’d do.”
A yelp of pain caused them all to flinch. Frank whirled around as Tony jumped to his feet, his hand pressed against his ear.
“What the fuck’s wrong with you?” Gus snapped as the giant man staggered down the steps. The answer came as Craddock lurched upright. He twisted to face the group. He smiled wide, baring bloodied teeth.