The Dark Trilogy

by Patrick D'orazio

  They ran to the back of the building. Lydia was already at the door with the children and looked relieved to see them. Sadie was in her arms, and Nathan and Joey clung to her waist.

  “Hold mine and Jason’s hands, boys. We’re going to make it out of here together!”

  Megan smiled down at them. Neither smiled back, but they unlatched from Lydia and grasped the proffered hands.

  Lydia put her ear to the door and listened. Satisfied, she nodded at the others.

  “Let’s go.”

  Chapter 14

  Fatigue was a thing of the past and exhaustion a faint memory. Jeff could hear the wheezing of his breath in his ears and felt as though razor blades cut into his lungs with every inhalation. Desperation was the only thing that kept him moving.

  They drifted from shadow to shadow, rushing from one gap or open space to another among the milling forms. They would slip into an open door or darkened entryway for a few moments until they spotted another place to which they could move. Everywhere they turned, the dreary creatures bumped and bounced against one another in agitation.

  Their progress stalled as the crowds grew thicker. It felt as if they were wading into the surf against a strong current, buffeted and turned back as they were forced to shift directions time and again.

  Jeff gripped the steel post he had plucked out of a gutter. It was the remnants of some road sign—a welded steel tube with perforations running down its length ending in a jagged sheared-off point that would allow him to both stab and bash. It wasn’t as comfortable in his hands as the baseball bat, as its squared shape was somewhat unwieldy, but it would have to suffice.

  He glanced ahead at George. As his chest rose and fell, he cursed the older man and his seemingly endless supply of energy. George had barely stopped to take a breath as he moved them through a winding path of vacant buildings and useless vehicles. The middle-aged man was physically up to the challenge of finding the others, while every muscle in Jeff’s body cried out in agony.

  They stopped occasionally to let George get his bearings and adjust their route. Jeff noticed that each pause was longer than the last, even if only long enough for him to gasp in exasperation as his legs begged for mercy.

  As quietly as they tried to skirt the groups of the undead, Jeff was certain his heavy breathing could be heard for miles as he slogged after George. He also wondered if the stench of his sweat and bad breath might give him away. They were not feathers in the wind; they were elephants trumpeting their presence with every step.

  They had already been seen from a distance, though one that was too far for the slug that watched them run by to do much about it. Still, they could hear the noises of anticipation behind them as the mob began to realize something was amiss.

  The two men didn’t bother looking back to see if they were being followed, keeping their eyes on the path in front of them as their feet slammed into the pavement at a rapid pace. That allowed them to deal with the two rotters that crossed their path swiftly.

  George’s thick plank of hardwood did one in while Jeff’s newfound weapon whistled as he swung it in a downward arc onto the already fragmented skull of the other. They wasted no time studying the results as they flew past the felled bodies. So far, those two had been the only ones that had tried to intercept them. They knew their luck couldn’t hold out much longer. There were just too many.

  “You have … any idea … how close … we are?”

  The words were spaced out between Jeff’s distressed breaths as they stopped behind a wrecked Mercedes that had slammed into the wall of an ice cream parlor. George’s head popped up above the roof of the car to scan the roadway. After a moment, he knelt down next to Jeff.

  “This is close to where I left them … I’m pretty sure,” George said, his eyes tentative as he looked around, trying to recognize any of the buildings in the immediate area.

  He had seen three ghouls on the other side of the car about twenty feet away, milling around, unaware of the duo’s presence. There were others farther down the street and an even thicker clot in the opposite direction. Several abandoned vehicles clogged the street and hid the two survivors from view.

  George shook his head. “I don’t know. They’ve had plenty of time to find someplace to hide. Maybe they’re in one of these stores.”

  “Well if they were nearby and in trouble, we would probably hear something.” Jeff leaned closer to George. “I mean, think about it. If they were under attack, all these dipshits would be going nuts, right?” He looked around, watching the movements of the stiffs off in the distance as he whispered. “They go ape when they find anyone.”

  “Unless they’re already dead.”

  Jeff shook his head. “We can’t think that way. We might as well-”

  George raised a hand, cutting off the words. Jeff tensed as he moved his eyes in the direction of the other man’s gaze.

  The group of walkers up the street was moving their way, though it didn’t appear as if they had seen the men. They weren’t restless or howling in excitement. Jeff was certain they were just wandering randomly, as the infected had a tendency to do when there wasn’t anything nearby to stimulate them.

  They watched the progress, hearts pounding. Jeff didn’t want to move. This was the longest rest he’d had since leaving Michael’s bleeding corpse, though he knew they had to get rolling again soon, even if the stiffs weren’t agitated by their presence.

  George stood back up. “I’m going to see if the ones on the other side of the car are still there,” he whispered.

  Jeff nodded, taking a deep breath as he bounced up and down on his knees. He maintained his crouch, afraid to slump all the way to the ground. Getting back to his feet would be difficult enough, as exhausted as he was. His legs ached, but he wanted to be prepared as he watched George extend his body.

  When George jumped back and yelped, Jeff exploded to his feet. The arm that came swinging around the rear of the car was nowhere near his friend, but the shock of the attack stunned them both. The big man crashed into Jeff, nearly knocking him off of his feet. If he had still been in a crouch, they would both have wound up on the ground. Instead, Jeff only stumbled back a couple of feet, unable to see anything with George’s back in his face.

  Jeff stepped to the side as he continued to backpedal. As the eclipse caused by George’s broad torso was removed, he tensed at what he saw. All three pusbags were coming around the car. He gripped the metal pole with both hands and cocked his arm back.

  George thrust the two by four he carried at the first ghoul, who wore a tattered cashier’s uniform. Her head was already mutilated, her skull partially exposed. She rocked backwards from the jab, falling to the rear of the other two stiffs who had worked their way around her.

  The metal shaft vibrated in Jeff’s hands as he clocked one of the other wretches on the top of its skull. Its spindly legs collapsed underneath it even as it continued reaching for George. Hands aching from the hit, Jeff knew there would be blisters and cuts on his palms as he took a wild swing at the other, missing and slamming the pole on the top of the Mercedes. The blow hurt, but he resisted the urge to drop the weapon. The stiff ignored the swing and launched its mangled body at George.

  Jeff advanced on the cashier as he heard the grunts of George battling behind him. Recuperated from the initial blow to the chin, the desiccated girl was moving toward them once again. Jeff lunged forward, jabbing the pole at her like a spear. The sharpened end struck the teen in the throat, and there was a horrible crunching noise. He relinquished his grip on the metal cylinder, which remained lodged in her throat, as she collapsed to the ground.

  Darting sideways, Jeff avoided the hands of the first stiff he had clocked as it reached up for him. His blow had done little more than send it to its knees. Dodging around it, Jeff made a move for his weapon. The ghoul reached up again and fell flat on its face as the agile man slipped its grasp.

  Jeff reached for the pole lodged in the cashier’s throat, but re
coiled. The girl’s eyes were still open and staring at him, her jaw working as best it could with a shaft of metal shoved in her neck. Her arms and legs were immobile, but her eyes followed his movements.

  It dawned on Jeff that his blow had paralyzed her. The point must have connected with her spine. She didn’t seem to care about the injury as she glared at him balefully, her mouth opening and slamming shut like some steel-jawed trap. Repressing a shiver, Jeff wrenched the metal shaft free of her neck.

  Turning, he saw the other ghoul still trying to get back up. Jeff whipped the pole around, smashing the monster’s ear and knocking the ghoul flat. He bashed it in the skull again to ensure that it would not rise another time.

  He was about to turn to help George when a hand slammed down on his shoulder, yanking him backwards. Tripping over his own feet, he fell to the ground as a shadow blotted out the sun above his head. As he tried to catch his breath, all Jeff knew was that it wasn’t George bending over him.

  Chapter 15

  Tom’s Donut Shop had been one of the more popular places for breakfast in Manchester. Despite the introduction of several trendy coffee shops in the area over the past few years, it had remained well trafficked up until the virus hit. Lydia led the desperate group toward the shop and away from the insurance office, which was now swarming with rotting bodies. She knew Tom’s was close to the old movie palace, which had been shuttered nearly a decade before, but never torn down. If they could get to the decrepit old building and manage to find a way inside, perhaps they could hole up for a while.

  They stole away from the insurance office, squirming between anonymous warehouses and boutiques, shops and office buildings, until they were at the back of the donut shop. From there, it was a matter of crossing Exeter Street and they would be at the rear of the theater.

  Lydia set Sadie down behind her as she peered out from behind the aluminum-clad building to look at the street.

  “There are only a few of them out there. If we time it right, we can make it across the street before they see us.” She did not bother looking at Megan and Jason as she spoke. Lydia was the only one who could see the entire street from where they hid, but they could all hear what was going on out there.

  Megan knew even from her tucked-down position behind Lydia that there wasn’t a chance in hell they wouldn’t be spotted.

  The back door to the donut shop was locked. A layer of slick grease had leaked out from underneath it, all the way to the dumpster twenty feet back from the building. The coagulated oil and smell of spoiled butter coming from the shop tempted Megan. Despite its slight funk, the scent brought back memories of fresh baked goods. Her stomach, confused and rebellious, spoke its piece with an acidic gurgle. Megan’s hunger had grown over the past few days to the point where she felt ravenous all the time. On top of that, the sun had sucked every last bit of moisture out of her body. At least the saliva created by the images of fried bits of glazed dough covered with icing allowed the gummy thickness in her mouth to loosen.

  As Lydia watched the street, her eyes were drawn to an elderly man half a block away. He was digging through an overflowing trashcan that had fallen over on the sidewalk. Something must have crawled into it, perhaps a rat or even a cat, because the old man was doing a strange dance as he stooped over the opening. He would dig inside and then pull back, stumbling as he tried to regain his balance. To Lydia it looked as if he could barely stand—he was feeble and looked intoxicated. His slender legs added to the cartoonish image: two pipe cleaners propping up a slack body that looked warped, only a caricature of a human being. She dismissed him as she scanned the other stiff forms standing even closer to their position.

  “I’m scared, Nanna Ly-Ly,” Sadie cried out from behind her.

  Lydia whipped around, alerted to the danger the child’s voice represented. Sadie flung her little body at Lydia, wrapping her tiny arms around the grandmotherly figure.

  “I don’t want them to get us, Nanna!”

  “Shh. Hush now, Sadie. Everything is going to be okay, but you have to keep quiet,” Lydia whispered in Sadie’s ear as she tried muffling the little girl’s mouth in her ample bosom. She could feel the hot sting of tears on her t-shirt as the five year old wept.

  Lydia nearly crushed Sadie in a desperate bear hug as she wrapped an arm around the child’s face and clamped her hand over her mouth. But it was too late. Sadie’s cries shattered the monotony of the moans on the street as they echoed between the buildings. Worse yet, the sound of her wretched sadness had been joined almost immediately by Joey and Nathan’s sympathetic keening. There was almost relief in their cries, as if a steam pipe under tremendous pressure had burst, spewing out a hot blast of frustration that they had been feeling ever since the camp had come under attack.

  Megan reacted as quickly as Lydia, her eyes first darting toward Sadie and then down at Joey, who clutched her hand with a frantic resolve. She knelt to comfort him but already sensed it was hopeless as Nathan chimed in. Gritting her teeth and clamping her hands on Joey’s shoulders, Megan hushed and cooed at him, whispering plaintively for him to be quiet, the whole time knowing it was pointless and yet unable to think of anything else to do. Exasperated and fearful, she looked toward the street. That was when she saw the old man staring at them.

  At the moment all he was doing was staring. More specifically, in the instant Megan looked in his direction, it appeared he was staring directly at her, right into her eyes. A mouse-like squeak escaped her throat.

  Lydia was still desperately trying to silence Sadie when someone started shaking her shoulder. The frazzled woman tried to shrug the hand off, but felt fingernails digging into her skin. When she glanced up, Megan was pointing to the street with a terrified look in her eyes.

  Standing, Lydia shivered as she scanned the road. The tension in her shoulders eased as she realized Megan’s fear had stemmed from the few wrecked and twisted bodies heading in their direction. This was no advancing horde. It was several small groups of stiffs moving in to attack, spread wide across her field of vision. Lydia’s eyes did not seek out the old man at the trashcan this time. He, like the other ghouls in the background, was a hazy shadow presenting no immediate threat.

  In less than a heartbeat, she knew what she had to do. The children would continue to cry, and their path would only get more clogged the longer they waited. There were monsters on the street, yes, but they could make it to the theater if they kept low.

  She glanced back at the others as she scooped up Sadie. “Follow me!”

  Megan was stunned as she watched Lydia tear across the parking lot toward the street. The sixty year old dodged a small cluster of ghouls that had heard the cries of the children and moved in to investigate. The rotting creatures were surprised by the woman who burst out from behind the building, but reacted with the same ponderous and lethargic energy with which they did everything. They slowly turned and tottered after Lydia as she ran past them.

  Megan glanced at Jason, motioning for him to follow. They gripped Joey and Nathan’s hands and urged the boys to get moving. Tears still flowed, but the crying stopped as the quartet ran for the parking lot.

  Lydia came to a sudden halt out on the road. The three ghouls she had passed in the parking lot were not the only ones that had spotted her. There were more stiffs on the street than she had estimated from the back of the donut shop, and an even greater number were pouring from every opening and gap between the buildings lining the roadway. The asphalt vibrated beneath her feet from the massive thrum of moaning voices, and everywhere she looked, there were more bodies coming toward her. Even the theater she hoped would provide sanctuary had several contorted human shapes oozing out of the shattered rear door.

  Lydia barely heard Megan scream her name as panic overwhelmed her. Clutching Sadie close, she spun around in hopes of finding a gap in the thickening ranks of ghouls. It was only then that she noticed the old man who had been rooting through the trash can. From a distance, he had looked insignificant,
a feeble old wreck.

  But now he was standing directly in front of her.

  Before she could react, his arm shot out and wrapped around the back of Lydia’s head. The octogenarian let out a bloodcurdling scream as his jaw went wide. He bit deep into the side of her face, and a scream erupted from her throat. The teeth lodged in the muscles toward the back of her jaw, just below the ear. A freshet of blood burst free and splashed the cannibal as he braced his feet and moved his free arm to the opposite side of her face.

  Megan and Jason avoided the same three slow-moving assailants in the parking lot with ease. One even tripped over its own feet, confused by the choice of targets. As the survivors kept moving out toward the street, Megan saw the old man running, actually running, toward Lydia. She screamed to warn her friend, but it was too late.

  To Megan, it was as if he had glided up to Lydia, cutting a straight path at a speed not normally seen in the undead. As he closed in, she could see his eyes. They were huge floating pools of darkness that defied reason. The infected all had milky white eyes with barely visible pupils. Not this old man. His eyes were as dark as charcoal.

  She watched in horror as Lydia was held in place by the old man’s embrace. His head shook like a terrier with a rat caught between its teeth, and his victim nearly collapsed. She tried to sink to the ground, but his gripping claws held her up. Megan’s own scream died, allowing her to hear the high-pitched screech coming from Lydia as the ghoul’s teeth dug even deeper into the fibrous muscles of her jaw.

  The next moment was a blur as Jason sped past Megan and jumped on the man’s back, injured arm and all. Remarkably, Sadie had remained attached to Lydia during the attack—the child’s arms still wrapped around her protector’s shoulders. Jason’s weight forced all of them to the ground as the ghoul’s stiff legs collapsed under their combined weight.