by M. D. Massey
Kneeling there, sobbing my eyes out and ripping myself apart for what I’ve done, I hear that all too familiar growling, playing like I’ve got a music worm camping out in the back of my head. It’s faint, just enough to let you know it’s there. Annoying. A putrid smell hovers around me, and I get the sensation that death is closer than ever.
That’s when reality kicks me in the junk and deepens my sorrow even more. There is nothing and no one else around us. We are alone on the beach. I pinpoint the source of the noise.
I lower Becky’s head back down, afraid I will see something that will be seared into my soul for eternity. Her face is contorted and her eyes are wide open, black as the freaking night. She is still and not moving, but that faint panting emitting from her mouth pushes out a smell that would make a dead person vomit.
I lean in close, braving the smell to get a better look. She springs up from playing possum and lunges for my throat.
2
Scared out of my mind, I awaken to find myself sweating like a whore in church, and my arms defensively stretched out in front of me. My heart races a mile a minute and I feel like I’m about to hyperventilate. I look around, dazed and confused.
Thank God it was only a dream. But it felt so real.
Ray is gone. Where the hell did he go? A bullet between the eyes should have done the job. The blood splattered on the wall has even been wiped clean, making it look like it never happened.
The door to the room is open, not a single soul in sight. I pull my Glock up and sweep the room, forgetting that the damn thing is empty. I check the clip again for shits and giggles, ejecting it and finding it fully stocked. Joy!
I start to question how it got reloaded, but why look a gift horse in the mouth. I’ll take it. Especially if one of the infected comes bolting into the room ready for an all you can eat buffet.
Feeling better somehow, I check my wounds and they are gone. No pus and both gashes seem to have closed and healed perfectly, again, like it never happened.
Tired of sitting next to the crappy sink, I spring to my feet, my eyes cleared of any haze. Actually, I now see with a clarity I didn’t have before. Everything seems more defined, way more in focus. Hell, my eyesight wasn’t this good before getting bit. Oh, and that creepy sensation that I had earlier of something swimming through my veins like a trout in a stream is still there, but different. Instead of trying to rob me of my life, it’s almost as if it is one with me. Fused into my biological substrate. Mutated even. Since I can’t tear it out of me, I’ll have to live with it, I guess. Maybe it will do some good. Who knows.
It’s really quiet, almost too quiet. Earlier those infected outside the door wouldn’t shut up and now it’s as if I’m all alone. I know I didn’t dream all this up because there is blood stained around the torn parts on my shirt and pant leg. That might be what they want, for me to put down my guard and think it was all a bad dream. Then I’d just casually walk out the door and they’d jump me like a thug in the night and finish their long awaited meal. Fat chance of that happening, you soulless demons. I may be alone now, but I’m not stupid.
I check the clip in my Glock one last time, making sure it being full wasn’t something I just wanted to see. Gold tinted bullets fill the clip to the rim, lined up perfectly. I slap the clip back in and chamber a round as I inch my way to the open door.
Funny enough, my heart is steady and I’m so much more aware of my surroundings now that I don’t even feel anxious. I mean I’m ready, just not stricken with a sense of fear that makes me feel like I’m going to hyperventilate or crap myself. Well, scratch that last one.
I near the door and press against the wall, trying to stay quiet, but my thick-soled boots seem to have other plans. They squeak something fierce, and no matter how I step, they sound off.
I pull my Glock up and scan the hall to the right for any sort of movement. Nothing. Clear as far as I can see. That was the easy part, if anything is easy now. The hall on the other side of this wall could be crawling with them. As much as I don’t want to be surprised and walk into a horde of them, staying in this room any longer is not an option. The smell alone is enough to make me run out into the unknown.
Growing a much larger pair of coconuts, and with the rush of adrenaline coursing through my body, I allow my Glock to take the lead and swing around into the partially lit hall. By now I feel so jacked that I could take on ten of those things at once.
Strange enough though, the hall is clean and clear of anything out of the ordinary. The musty smell still lingers and the overhead lights flicker like they can’t keep it together.
Again, standing with my Glock gripped tight in my palm, I wonder what the hell is going on here. Not but a couple of hours ago, I was running for my life with Ray and feeling like a happy meal to go.
Maybe I’m in the twilight zone and this is all just made up in my head. I could have had some crazy drugs or drank myself into a real life nightmare. It’s happened before, but nothing like this.
My nerves ease back and my trigger finger relaxes on the kill switch. The faintest of footsteps creep up on me. I flip around like the Flash, and grab whatever the hell it is by the throat, slamming it against the wall. The Glock makes out with its forehead and is about to move to second base when I notice it’s a battered and bruised woman.
She looks like a ripe banana that has been dropped one too many times, and she shakes like she’s about to have a seizure. Her right eye is bloodshot to hell and both are glassy from the river of tears that made her makeup run.
“Why the hell are you sneaking up on me?” I ask while keeping the Glock pressed firmly to her head.
She whimpers like a wounded dog and just stares at me as if no one’s home. Curious, I slide my thumb up her blood streaked throat and pull her quivering red lips open. Normal. Well, they aren’t all jagged and razor sharp like a shark’s mouth anyways.
“Plea . . . se h . . . elp m . . . e?” Her eyes dart from side to side.
I do a quick once over and see no open wounds or scratches of any kind. I nearly dismiss it but the last time I let it go, I had to put Ray down like Old Yeller.
“Listen lady, I’m not going to hurt you, but I’m going to ask you a question and you better damn well answer quick, fast, and in a hurry, or my friends inside this gun are going to do a meet and greet inside your skull. So please make no mistake, I will wash the wall behind you with your brains if I even get a hint that something’s up, okay?”
She doesn’t outwardly answer, but the petrified expression on her face says she gets my drift. For her sake, I hope so.
“Have you been bitten, scratched, or looked at funny by any of the infected crawling all over the damn place?”
“Trent, why are you doing this? It’s me, Alice.”
She’s looking at me now with that familiar gaze, her eyes filled to the brim with tears, as if she knows me somehow. It’s that look people get when they see a past friend they haven’t seen in ten plus years, who’s older and different. I really couldn’t care less.
I lift the Glock in the air and pop off a round into the ceiling above, causing a nasty echo that will probably draw the attention of something extremely ravenous. She yelps like a wounded animal and tightens her body up, acting ready to receive a beating or something. I wish this lady would just answer the question.
“I don’t know who the hell Trent Gazner is, and I really don’t give a flying flip. Answer the damn question or I WILL KILL YOU!” The warm nozzle of the Glock hugs her flush, sweaty forehead.
“No, I haven’t been bitten or scratched,” she replies matter of fact this time. Guess she wants to live.
I still hold position for a few moments, trying to read if she is bs’ing me. Her eyes start that darting from side to side thing again, like she’s waiting for the boogeyman to jump out at any moment and scare the crap out of her.
I play it off as paranoia, considering her current condition and apparent state of mind, but something grips me tight
inside and pulls my ear to the left and down the hall. It is a faint sound, like nails being dragged down a chalk board. I hate that sound. Makes me cringe every time.
I lift my Glock away from Alice and turn my attention down the darkened hallway. Adrenaline flows clean and smooth, heightening my senses. My finger caresses the trigger like a lady in love.
Alice starts that damn whimpering. “No, no, oh God no!” she mutters under her panting breath.
I would tell her to shut up, but it won’t do any good. The round I fired off earlier was like a flare gun being shot off in the blackness. Might as well ring the dinner bell for ’em.
My Glock takes the lead and I follow. The bone curdling noise comes ever closer. My hands are steady as a surgeon and I’m all business, thinking of nothing except the many different ways I’m going to pump that demon with my little friends.
“Don’t go down there! Are you crazy?” Alice tries to whisper, but it sounds more like a muffled yell.
I stop cold, cock my head to the left, and cut my eyes toward her. I hear that moaning that nearly drove me insane in the wash room. But it’s not coming from down the hall or even down the opposite way behind me. It’s like it’s within a few feet of me.
I listen close to try and track it down, and spot a dark room with no door attached. I keep my Glock straight ahead, trying to pierce the veil that’s draped over the doorway. With the lights flickering on and off, I catch a quick glimpse of the thing’s yellowish stained razor-sharp teeth. I could have sworn I saw a single line of drool dangling from its blistered lips.
Alice stays glued to the opposing wall and tries to shut her fear up, covering her mouth with both of her grimy hands. The thing’s breathing intensifies, spraying me in the face like a fan. Man, it smells like rotted flesh and raw sewage. Wish I had a Tic Tac or some gum right now.
It breaks from the doorway and lunges at me like a depraved lion; hitting me in the stomach hard like a linebacker and knocking me against the wall and then to the floor , sending an array of stars floating about in my peripheral view.
Damn it, where’s my Glock?
It must have popped out of my hand when I hit the wall. I try to look around for it, but the ravenous demon from hell is on me in seconds and the only thing keeping its mouth full of razors from digging into me is my boot, which I have lodged in his gut. Sure glad they’re not real bright; one quick move to the left or right and I might be a goner. To make matters worse, as if they could get any worse, the other thing sliding up the wall is gaining ground and I can nearly spot its disfigured body.
Damn the infected are strong. My leg buckles a little and its head inches towards my face. Its arms swing erratically and those jagged fingernails are mere inches from my body. Looking into its black pools of nothingness, I see my reflection fighting back with all my might. Half of its face is gone, and its jawbone smacks up and down as it moans, yearning for my succulent flesh.
Not today, asshole!
I let go of its left, decayed arm, and grab its cold, slimy throat, pushing its head back as far as I can. It gurgles a little and its neck crackles like bubble wrap as I squeeze and thrust back, but this thing doesn’t seem to care if I snap it clean off. It still lunges forward.
I look to my left and see the other unwanted caller fade in and out of the shadows down the hall. It looks, from what I can see, just as bad as the thing trying to get at me. It seems to be much more decayed and voracious, breathing heavier now that it knows I see it.
And just my luck, if you want to call it that, I take my eye off the ball and the damn thing sneaks in a little closer and slices my shoulder good. It stings like an intense fiery pain nothing and immediately the thing finds its mark, pushing in for the kill. I throw everything I’ve got into my arms and legs. A single gunshot rings out that nearly makes me shit myself.
The faint mist of the thing’s blood sprays across my face as it falls lifeless, again, to the left of me. Surprised, I cock my head to the right and see Alice standing there, shaking hard and my Glock dancing in her death-gripped hands. Her face is a scene of terror and shock all mixed up into one crazy looking expression. I’m not sure how she managed to pull it together to blow off that thing’s head, but I’m sure glad she did.
Sitting there, with this rotted piece of mangled flesh draped across my legs, I wait for Alice to snap out of her trance and take out the other flesh-eater heading our way. But she just stands there, nearly lifeless and motionless like the infected.
“Alice, snap out of it and shoot the damn thing already!” Yelling at her might not be the best idea considering that she doesn’t seem to be all there and my Glock could sound off at any time.
Still no response. I’m not waiting for her to come back to the land of the somewhat living. I lean forward just enough to remove the knife that I had stowed behind my back. It’s nothing fancy and its size is modest at best, but considering that I’m currently stuck between a wall and a deadish corpse, it will have to do.
I grab the small, serrated blade, and don’t even think of what I’m doing. It’s like it’s all second nature to me now, and trying to plot what I’m going to do will only get in the way. I flick my wrist and send the blade tumbling end over end through the darkness and towards the corpse.
The dead man, or whatever the hell it is, stays its course and doesn’t even flinch as the knife hurls toward its head. Maybe it can’t see it in the shadows or perhaps its hunger for our flesh is driving it to walk through a meat grinder if need be. Whatever the case may be, I’m glad it’s not moving out of the way.
The blade slams into its forehead, digging in deep through the soft, pliable tissue that some of the infected seem to have, and stops at the blunt end of the top of the handle. Instantly, the heavy breathing that played like a war drum stops and a loud thud echoes down the hall.
Joy!
Relieved for the moment, I work the dead thing off my legs and get to my feet. Alice still stands there, wide eyed and scared shitless, not moving a single muscle. How she has survived this long on her own is beyond me.
I step to the side and carefully raise my hands towards the Glock, keeping an ever vigilant eye on Alice. I don’t know her from Adam and to be honest, I don’t trust her. At this point, everyone is on my “don’t test me” list.
Alice remains still as a statue as I slide my hands over hers, opening up her fingers carefully and removing my Glock from her grasp. I grab the warm barrel and push it towards the ground as I swiftly maneuver the handle upward and out of her hands. She doesn’t even flinch, bat an eye, or even tell me to go to hell. I get nothing. She must be catatonic now. I wonder if she’s ever killed one of these things before, or anyone else for that matter.
I eject the clip, for my own personal benefit, to make sure it’s still in working order. Being caught up in this horrid nightmare has made me such a paranoid freak; I hate being on pins and needles and acting like every little shadow is some demon out to collect my soul, but since awakening from my near death appointment, that feeling seems to be subsiding a little. I mean, I still don’t trust anyone right now, but my nerves seem to be sharpened, honed even.
Good thing too as off down the hall and past the immobile corpse, I pick up the rumbling of multiple footsteps and that damn moaning. Man, I wish they would change that record. Maybe something with a better beat.
I slip my Glock back into the front of my pants and contemplate retrieving my knife. I try to look through the darkness, but see what looks like one big, dead posse coming to get its outlaw. Trying to just survive in wherever I am is hard enough, I really don’t feel like playing Russian roulette over a knife.
“Alice, we need to go, now!”
She still stands there, frozen in time. I can see her lips fluttering about as if she wants to say something, but she just can’t pull it together long enough to spit it out. I could just leave her right there, dinner on a silver platter for the wolves coming our way. Hell, I don’t even know her. Just because she tagg
ed one of the infected crawling on me doesn’t mean I owe her anything. It’s my good fortune, her tough loss. Forget this, I’m outta here.
My eyes say see you later and I take off down the opposite side of the temporarily non-flesh-eating corridor. I continue to hear those things coming ever closer, their nails scrapping along the walls and their lips smacking like a ninety-year-old man looking at a tasty treat. I stop dead in my tracks.
“Mike, you can’t leave her alone. You’re a better person, a better man than that,” a voice whispers inside my head.
I know that voice, that sweet sounding tone that has melted me more than one time in the past. God, I wish I knew what was happening to me. What is happening here? It seems like a bad dream that I can’t wake from.
I twist my head around and see a severely burned and disfigured corpse near Alice. Its black eyes focus on nothing but her, and its jagged teeth chomp up and down for her tasty flesh. She’s still motionless, like she’s ready to die or something.
Damn it!
I remove my Glock from the front of my pants and take aim at the flesh-eater that is all eyes on Alice. It doesn’t even know I’m there, or perhaps it just doesn’t care as it has found its current meal.
With its mouth ajar and its teeth ready to sink into Alice’s pearly white skin, it lunges forward with its arms stretched out in front.
I exhale and squeeze the trigger, releasing a single shot that zips through the air and right past Alice’s hair, kicking it up a little. It strikes the raving, undead corpse in the right eye socket and blows its clumpy brains out the back of its mangled, fleshy skull. I was going for right between the eyes, but it’ll do.
Its arms fall lifeless and it plummets to the ground at Alice’s feet, making a loud thud that finally jolts her back to life. Blood pools out of its skull as she peers down.