The Demented Z (Book 1):The Demented

by Derek J. Thomas

  She nodded. “Thank you…for everything.”

  Not using up any more time, Tom raced over to Hank and found him right where he left him. Holding out one of the AK47s Tom said, “You going to make it?”

  “Yeah…I’ll be alright.” Reaching out he took the AK.

  Pointing in the direction of the front, Tom said, “You head out front and round up a vehicle, I'm going for Rachael. Keys are in them.” Without waiting for a response, he headed off in the direction of the offices.

  Reaching the hall, he took a left, continuing to move farther away from the closet they had locked him in. After having been in the gym with plenty of light from all the high windows, it now seemed incredibly dark in the long hallway. Not seeing any movement in either direction, he was not too worried about others being in the building, figuring they would have surely heard and been drawn to all the gunfire.

  Just a little farther down the hall he saw what he was looking for. There was an intersecting hallway that appeared to lead to the front parking lot and along the wall a large opening was cut for the front reception desk. Figuring any offices would lie somewhere behind this, Tom ran and leapt through the opening, sliding across the counter on his hip. “Rachael! You here? Rachael!”

  An excited voice came from somewhere down a narrow hall at the back. “I’m here, I’m here.”

  The first door he came to had a bronze colored name plate and tag above it that read “Principal.” Opening the door he found a large desk sitting in front of a window that faced the front parking lot. On the floor lay a mattress with a heap of blankets scattered across the top. Behind the desk sat Rachael, hands and feet bound to a large black leather chair.

  Her eyes glistened, tears running down her cheeks. “Thank God…thank you…Tom, I’m so glad you are okay. He was…Lincoln was going to…” Rachael stammered out in a rush.

  “Stop. It’s alright now, we’re okay.” Tom said while racing around the desk. Pulling his knife out, he cut her free. She stood and wrapped her arms around him, sobbing. After a few moments he decided she would never let go, so he peeled her off and said, “Hank should be out front with a car by now…we gotta go.”

  “They are headed for your house.” Rachael said with a worried look on her face.

  His stomach knotted up, chest aching with worry. “I know.”

  Rushing out the front doors, they saw Hank just pulling up to the curb, driving an old rusted out orange truck. Looking out past the truck, Tom saw that the thugs had fortified the already existing fence with a bunch of junk and cars. Following Rachael onto the bench seat, Tom said, “What, you couldn’t find any better cars?”

  “The Pumpkin…don’t knock it.” Hank said.

  Nearing the edge of the parking lot they saw a huge steel gate finalizing the security perimeter, while also blocking their way out. Pulling to a stop before the gate, Tom hopped out to open it and noticed a couple undead standing on the other side, staring in at him. Their bloody clothes were in tatters, barely clinging to their emaciated bodies. They made no agitated movements or noise, but instead just stood there reaching through the bars, grasping at empty air. Tom stood there debating whether or not to use his rifle, possibly drawing lots more, or use some other method to dispatch them. Looking back, he saw the young woman climbing into a sporty little hatchback, making his decision easier.

  Taking a few steps toward the gate, he raised his AK and fired off two quick shots, dropping both undead with headshots. Running over to the gate he pulled back the metal slide and swung the gate wide open. In the distance he could see movement between cars on the side of the street. Gunfire for the demented was like blood dripping in a shark tank.

  Driving through the opening they saw several demented and hordes of undead all along the fortified fence – not just for show…it was a necessity.

  Chapter 13: Home

  Pulling through the open gate Hank veered away from the groups of infected. Looking in the rear view mirror he saw the little hatchback speed through the opening and turn down the road in the other direction. Continuing to watch, he saw several demented trying to follow them, several chasing after the hatchback, and a large group racing through the open gate toward the school. Tom almost felt sorry for the dirtbags inside...almost.

  Time had taken its toll on Spokane. Every street they passed was filled with debris, wreckage, bodies, and infected. Nearing the edge of the city, entire blocks were burned to the ground, only blackened shells remmaining. Infected were everywhere, most of them were undead. The few demented they saw grouping up and not interested in chasing their vehicle.

  “Looks like they are learning. Most don’t chase after us.” Rachael said from the middle. “Even the undead seem to have it a little more together…maybe.”

  Tom could barely focus on anything. Thoughts of his family, his home, and the thugs that were headed their way swirled through his mind, consuming him. Up until now he was able to mostly block it out, knowing he was too far away to do anything.

  Fidgeting with his pants, Tom said, “Let’s just get there…this thing have more speed?”

  They were already driving exceedingly fast, but Hank hammered down on the gas pedal. The throaty engine roared, floor panels vibrating with its effort. “That’s all she’s got.” Hank said. Reaching out and pounding on the dash he added, “Pumpkin’s got it.”

  Reaching the highway that lead north out of Spokane, they found full speed was rarely an option due to the volume of wrecks and abandoned cars. It was helpful that someone had cleared a narrow twisting path through the wreckage. They likely had the thugs to thank for that. Tom hoped they were clearing it on their trip, slowing them just ahead. With each turn and a motionless road stretching out in front of them, his hope diminished another notch.

  “Turn right up here.” Tom said.

  Speeding right up to the turn, Hank feathered the brakes, and with a squeal of tires, cranked the truck through the turn. Finding the side road mostly clear Hank stomped on the gas, engine roaring in response. The forest was getting thick, trees flying by in a blur.

  “Not much farther.” Tom said while leaning right up against the windshield. “This’ll turn to gravel, then it’s about another mile.”

  In the distance Tom saw a helicopter flying north away from Spokane. Pointing, he said, “Another one.”

  They all watched as the chopper circled around and began flying straight toward them, quickly growing larger. Over the rumble of the engine they could hear the whump-whump-whump of the rotor blades as it swooped in at them, flying low and fast. Just before reaching them it pulled into a hover some forty feet off the deck. Hank let off the accelerator a bit, unsure what to do.

  There was no time to come to a stop, but they all stared up as they passed underneath. A white helmeted pilot could be seen in the cockpit and behind him were two men tied off with harnesses, peering out the side at them. After passing underneath, the helicopter followed after them for a few minutes and then veered off, continuing north.

  None of them said anything, unsure what it meant.

  Hank eased off the accelerator as they neared the change from pavement to gravel. The smooth road noise was replaced by the sounds of spitting gravel.

  Tom’s heart raced, the fear of what they would find nearly making him want to stop. “Turn at the black mailbox there.” Tom said, pointing.

  Double checking that he had a round chambered and the safety off, Tom picked up his AK47. “This might get ugly…I don’t expect you guys to stick around.”

  “Don’t be a dumbass.” Hank said.

  Pulling up the hill, Tom could see his house and shop resting at the top. His stomach convulsed when he saw several of the shuttered windows broken, wood slats hanging limply. In addition to this, the large truck he knew to be Big Mike’s was backed up to the shop. There was movement behind the truck. Kelly and Sam were nowhere in sight.

  Hearing their approach, Mikey came walking out from around the truck, watching them with a con
fused look on his face. He shouted something to those behind him. Another man came around the front of the truck, carrying an AK47, held loosely at his side. They stared at the easily recognizable truck, trying to decide which of their pals had disobeyed Lincoln and left the school.

  “This is when the Pumpkin pays off.” Hank said.

  Tom had thought he was crazy, but now seeing his foresight, he put Hank in the genius realm. He was a bit worried about Kelly and Sam being in the shop, but felt they would be tied up in the cab if the thugs had found them, so he said, “Turn to a stop short of them. I’m going guns blazing…shock and awe and all that.”

  About thirty yards shy of the shop, Hank cranked the wheel, skidding to a stop facing the house.

  Tom was ready for it and bailed out the side door. Rushing around the door he pulled up behind the engine block and quickly put the armed man in his iron sights. Rapidly squeezing the trigger he fired off several shots, the first clipping the man in the shoulder and spinning him. The second shot caught him in the side, and the final round slammed into his neck, spilling out blood in a gush and dropping him to the ground.

  Tom pivoted left and saw Mikey racing back into the shop for cover. Firing off a volley of shots just as he disappeared into the darkness, Tom was unsure if he had hit his target or not.

  There was loud shouting from inside the shop.

  To his left he saw Rachael had climbed out and Hank was following her out the passenger side with the other AK in his grasp. Rachael hunkered down behind the rear wheel, while Hank circled around behind her. Lying prone next to her, he sighted underneath the bed of the Pumpkin.

  Suddenly there was a cascade of shots from out of the shop, panging loudly into the other side of the truck and some zinging over his head. With each shot the muzzle flash would give away the shooters location. Tom rapidly fired back.

  Hank unleashed a volley of rounds.

  More shots from out of the shop, one slamming into the windshield with a loud crack, sending shards of glittering glass raining down on top of Tom.

  Tom let loose another salvo of shots, pulling the trigger rapidly until the weapon ran dry. “Loading!” He shouted while hunching down behind the front tire. He grabbed one of the mags he had stuffed into his cargo pants, dropped the empty mag, and clicked the fresh one into the slot. Yanking back the slide, he charged the AK with another round and got his gun back in the fight.

  “They’re moving!” He heard Hank yell.

  Looking back at the shop he saw movement toward the rear of the thug’s truck and saw someone climbing into the front. The engine roared to life as several weapons began firing rapidly out of the bed of the truck.

  Tom aimed at the driver’s side of the cab and began rapidly squeezing the trigger, shattering out the glass. Despite his effort the truck began pulling away from the shop, flinging gravel into the darkness. He could just see someone’s head poking above the steering wheel, ducking down, while trying to see enough to steer past The Pumpkin.

  As they accelerated past , a couple men let loose a barrage of gunfire from the bed of the truck.

  Tom raced around the front of The Pumpkin and dropped to a knee, firing rapidly at the escaping truck. Several shots later his weapon ran dry. He could only listen as Hank continued to fire.

  As the truck sped away , the hillside fell into an eerie silence. Dust hung in the air. Other than the acrid smell of gunfire there was no sign of anything having taken place.

  “Do you have your spare mag?” Tom shouted to Hank.

  Hank came around the back of the truck, holding out a magazine. Tom grabbed it, reloaded, and charged his weapon. Turning, he raced toward the house, fearing what he would find.

  Looking at the house, Tom saw the front door still stood. Blood stained the door and several bodies lay crumpled in a pile at its base. Quickly checking them he found that two of them were the neighbors and the third was someone he did not know. All were dead from shots to the head. Dispatched by the Lincoln and his crew he guessed.

  Loud howls could be heard somewhere in the distance.

  Ignoring them, he rushed around the corner of the house to the nearest window. The remains of the shutters hung loosely from their hinges and parts lay broken on the ground at its base. Raising the rifle, he pointed the barrel into the darkness and peered inside. He could see nothing.

  Slinging the rifle, he climbed through the opening into the living room. The smell of death filled his nostrils. Scanning the room he saw debris everywhere. The place had been torn apart. Books, shelves, glass, and nearly everything else they owned w ere scattered all about the room.

  He heard Hank and Rachael climbing through the window behind him. “Kelly! Sam!” He shouted.

  Silence.

  Holding the AK up at the ready, he slowly worked his way through the living room, keeping an eye out for any movement.

  He heard creaking from upstairs, followed by shuffling feet.

  Nearing the base of the stairs he found a pile of bodies, none of them Kelly or Sam. The bodies had been obliterated by shotgun fire. Knowing this was the weapon he had trained Kelly on for self-defense gave him hope. “Kelly! I’m here! It’s Tom.”

  Turning back to the others he said, “Keep an eye out down here.” Hank and Rachael both nodded.

  Stepping over the bodies, Tom began climbing the stairs, one at a time while keeping his rifle trained on the top of the stairs. He could hear noises from upstairs, but no voices. Reaching the top of the stairs he saw blood staining the carpet and walls, no movement. His heart pounded in his chest. “Kelly.” He whisper-shouted.

  More soft noises from down the hall.

  Heal to toe, he worked his way down the hall. Reaching the end, he could hear the noises coming from the other side of his nearly closed bedroom door. The jam was splintered and broken, appearing to have been kicked in. Taking a steadying breath, he used his boot to ease the door open while keeping his rifle trained ahead of him.

  Daylight filtered in through the window, cascading across the bed. Turning to the left he saw movement in the dark corner. It was low, down near the floor. Hesitating, waiting for his eyes to adjust, he kept his rifle trained on the movement. “Sam?” He whispered.

  The thing made a shuffling noise.

  As his eyes adjusted he could see this was not Sam, but instead a person, their legs a mangled mess. Blood pooled underneath him as he tried to shuffle around. A hideous, scruffy face stared back at him, mouth opening in a snarl.

  Tom squeezed the trigger, putting the thing down for good.

  Where were Kelly and Sam?

  He raced around the room looking for any sign of them. Stepping over to the window he found it open. Looking out, he saw a couple bodies down on the lawn, neither of them Kelly or Sam. Lifting his gaze across the lawn, he followed an imaginary path that lead to a short section of field and then the darkness of the thick forest. He had to believe they got pinned down in the bedroom and escaped out the window. There was a huge relief believing they were still alive. He had spent many hours picturing the horrors he would find on his return. While this was not them safe at home, it was the next best thing.

  Coming back down the stairs, he found Rachael and Hank staring back at him, worry in their eyes. Neither of them said a word, unsure what to say.

  Tom shook his head. “They’re not here. Looks like they got trapped upstairs and made a break for it out the window. It’s a long drop, but neither of them were at the base. They're still alive...I know it.”

  Hank stepped over to him and rested a hand on his shoulder. “We will find them.”

  Rachael stepped over and wrapped her arms around the two of them. They stood in the darkness embracing each other. They were happy to have made it home, still be together, and know that his family still lived. They all new their journey together was far from over.

  THE END

  This Concludes Book One

  Thank you for reading The Demented. I would greatly appreciate your review
on Amazon.

  Just released: Book Two in the Demented Series. Available today as The Demented: Desolation.

  Table of Contents

  A huge thanks to my always supportive wife, Mindi.

  Chapter 1: ChaosBeep…Beep…Beep

  Chapter 2: Realization

  Chapter 3: Survival

  Chapter 4: Dawn

  Chapter 5: Strangers

  Chapter 6: The Road

  Chapter 7: New Faces

  Chapter 8: Desperation

  Chapter 9: Deep Black

  Chapter 10: Dawn

  Chapter 11: Confrontation

  Chapter 12: Hell

  Chapter 13: Home

  This Concludes Book One