by Joe Augustyn
53
Tumultuous thumps and guttural moans echoed through the corridors of the funhouse, announcing the arrival of the dead.
“Come on, we have to move,” Kerri said, keeping her voice calm and steady even though she felt like screaming. Her tensions had waned in the presence of the troopers, but now Bronski was gone, the psychotic rabble was coming, and Silverman was a basket case, zonked on a pain killer cocktail. And then there was Emma. A wavering basket case.
“Come on!” Kerri barked, slapping Cat gently on the cheek to rouse her. “We have to go, Cat. Now.”
The trooper opened her eyes, a confused look on her face.
“They’re here,” Kerri said quietly.
A surge of adrenalin stirred Cat from her doldrums as she listened to the growing sounds of the invading zombies. She would have liked nothing better than to sink back on the hard wooden chair and veg out, but she instinctively knew it would mean certain death. No stranger to danger, she had survived countless firefights in Afghanistan and what she was feeling now was familiar. She pulled herself together and slid off the chair.
To Kerri’s surprise, Emma remained fairly calm as she helped Kerri steady the wounded trooper on her feet. “This way,” Kerri whispered, nodding towards the mirror maze. “Slow and steady. And very, very quiet.”
Moving at a snail’s pace they entered the maze. It was impossible to move any faster. Even with the lights on the maze was artfully deceptive, a masterful assembly of softly lit mirrors and glass panels designed to confuse and disorient. The clear glass panels were virtually invisible, and cleverly positioned to work with the mirrors to make every possible doorway a gamble.
With one arm supporting Cat around the waist, Kerri used her free hand to steer their way, cautiously probing ahead to find the elusive openings through the maze. As they passed from one cubicle to the next, Kerri studied the recessed lighting fixtures set in the framework, wishing there was a way she could knock out the system. But the lights were set behind Plexiglas panels and there was no way to disable them without making plenty of noise.
Kerri’s hand hit a clear glass panel in front of them, and another to her right. Emma found the open doorway on her left. “This way.”
A sudden loud commotion erupted in the funhouse behind them, echoing through the corridors amid the recorded sounds of the animatronic denizens. To Kerri and Emma it was a perplexing hodgepodge of canned growls and groans and cackles and violent thumps. But even in her drugged delirium Cat quickly deduced that the walkers had tried to swarm the mechanical monsters, resulting in a pile-up in the narrow, dimly lit passageway.
“Don’t stop,” she whispered, as Emma froze, momentarily paralyzed by the strange violent sounds. “We need to find a way out of here.”
***
Back in the black-walled corridor, a dozen writhing cadavers lay tangled in a twisted heap, clogging the narrow hallway like some giant many-limbed reptile caught in a trap. They dragged themselves clumsily forward, slowly plucking their limbs from the pile, crawling like crippled crocodiles.
A once handsome boy in surfer shorts kicked free of the tangle and dragged himself forward down the hall. As the ghoulish din behind him faded he heard enticing whispers ahead, reflected off the smooth glass walls of the maze. A vague, fear-filled odor hit his nose and he scrambled eagerly forward on arms and legs, his back arched like a Halloween cat.
The hallway behind him came alive with frantic thumps and clomping footsteps as his own chemical trail wafted back to his fellow dead. They pushed and clawed and kicked aggressively, determined to be first to the feast, responding to the strange new pheromones emitted by his reborn glands.
As the surfer boy neared the entrance to the maze, the sound of soft footsteps ahead and the smell of human blood from Cat’s wound spurred him into a frenzy. Like a hungry amoeba he was one with his need, a machine with a one track mind. Loping forward on fingers and toes he galloped like a chimp into the mirror maze—and crashed headfirst into an invisible pane of glass.
His head filled with light as he collapsed in the cubicle. The light quickly faded to black.
Another scrambling body stumbled over him and fell. Then another. And another. Soon the monstrous lizard was whole again, writhing on the cold wooden floor. Blocking the way into the maze.
54
Buffeted by freezing gusts of wind, Ryan and Bronski slogged through the ice-cold seawater, halfway down a flooded side street. Raindrops fell steadily around them, a chorus of plops and splashes on the surface of the water. Dawn was approaching, but the storm was holding its ground. A deep dark pall hung over the town, neither night nor day, but a limbo of half-light and angry black clouds.
“How much farther is it?” asked Bronski. He’d expected a much shorter route. They’d already crossed several city blocks, and several more lay ahead.
“Not much farther,” Ryan replied, a bit sheepishly. He’d forgotten the island was wider in the middle and felt responsible for their long trek through the cold flooded streets. As he pushed through the chest-high water he looked around at the homes on either side of the residential street. Not a sign of life was evident. No candlelight shone through the windows at this early hour. The few vehicles left in the area were parked up on blocks or on cheap metal ramps in an attempt to spare them from the corrosive effects of salt water.
“I can’t believe how deserted the city is. I guess more people evacuated than anyone expected.”
“They’re here,” said Bronski, scanning the street. “Holed up inside.”
“Do you think they know what’s happening out here?”
“I doubt it. If they’re lucky they’ll stay inside until the storm is over. Maybe by then we’ll have things under control.”
They reached an intersection. Bronski muttered a swear word as he looked down the cross street and saw a dozen undead corpses wading towards them.
Ryan raised his pistol.
“Save your ammo,” Bronski ordered. “You’ll just draw more of them.” Pulling a survival knife from his belt sheath he stepped up to meet the nearest ghoul and slammed the blade down into its skull. The man twitched violently as he died a second death and sank into the floodwater.
Bronski pulled his knife free and gauged the distance to the next nearest zombie. It was only twenty feet away, but despite the eager look in its eyes it was moving slowly, hampered by the sucking current and its own wobbly legs. “Come on. Let’s keep moving.”
Ryan hurried forward. Bronski backed slowly into the intersection, dragging his knife through the water to rinse it clean. He scanned the streets in every direction, watching and waiting until Ryan had started safely down the next block.
As Bronski turned to follow a bullet whistled past his ear, just missing his head. Startled, he stumbled and sank to his knees, going completely underwater. Ryan heard the crack of the shot and spun around to see him floundering facedown in the water. “Nick!”
Bronski broke the surface, spitting out water. “I’m okay, get down! Now! Get underwater!”
Ryan plunged into the water as a second shot whizzed by.
“Get to cover!” Bronski urged. Keeping his head low he started swimming towards the boy. “Get into the nearest driveway! Quickly!”
***
A block and a half behind them, Sheriff Leeds cursed his arthritic trigger finger, made even more clumsy and slow by the biting cold water. He too hurried out of sight, ducking into the driveway of the nearest house.
Stupid old man. You had them in your damned sights and you blew it.
***
Bronski surfaced near the front of a brightly painted house and splashed the last few feet to the safety of the driveway, where Ryan was already waiting, shivering in cold fear.
“You okay?” Bronski asked.
“Yeah. But my pistol is soaking wet,” Ryan replied, nervously holding up his Glock.
“Don’t worry about that,” said Bronski. Taking the gun he popped the magazine and sho
ok the water out, then slapped the mag back in place. “A short stint in water shouldn’t affect it. The bullets are watertight. Just keep pulling the trigger if it doesn’t fire the first time.”
“Did you see who shot at us?” asked Ryan anxiously. “Was it that Sheriff?”
“I didn’t see. But it has to be him. Or maybe one of his deputies. Who else would be trying to kill us?”
“Maybe someone mistook us for those things.”
“Picking us as random targets when there are plenty of them around? Not likely.”
“Right,” Ryan conceded.
“Whoever it is let’s just hope he’s alone. I don’t know how many deputies that bastard has, or whether they’re even in on this with him… whatever the hell his involvement is.”
“They are. I mean, Emma said there was a deputy with him at the cemetery. What do we do now?” asked Ryan anxiously. He wasn’t thrilled with the idea of sloshing through the floodwater with someone shooting at him.
“We do what we have to,” Bronski said coolly. “And right now we have to keep moving.” He looked around, searching for a safe way to proceed. He slogged quickly through the water to the rear of the driveway. It led to a spacious backyard but there was no alleyway abutting it. They could climb the fence into the next yard, but there was no guarantee it would lead to a safer exit. And the delay would give the Sheriff more time for his own sneaky maneuvers. At least for the moment they had a good idea where he was.
He judged it a bad gamble. They had to get help fast and the quickest way was back into the street. He hurried back to Ryan. “We’ll move from driveway to driveway, using the houses for cover. Stay completely submerged under water until you reach the next driveway. As long as he doesn’t see us moving he’ll assume we’re still pinned down here. When we reach the end of the block we’ll detour one block over and be gone. You with me?”
Ryan nodded. “Sounds like a plan.”
Bronski dove underwater and started swimming for the next driveway.
Ryan waited a moment, taking a few deep breaths. Then he closed his eyes and followed, diving well below the surface to make sure he wouldn’t be seen. He didn’t see the zombie being pushed by the current into the mouth of the driveway—moving directly into his path.
55
“Keep going, Emma,” said Kerri, trying to sound calmer than she felt. They were halfway through the mirror maze, with no idea how much farther they had to go to reach the exit or how far behind them the walking corpses were. But from the sounds echoing off the mirrored walls, they were getting closer and they weren’t giving up the chase. “You take Cat to safety. I’ll try to hold them off as long as I can.”
She quickly checked the glass walls around them for signs that the zombies were near. She could hear their grunts and groans and stumbling footsteps but it was impossible to tell how close they were. Their gruesome images appeared off and on through the panels around them, but there was no way to know if they were merely reflections through multiple mirrors or zombies lurking through clear glass panels just inches away.
“No,” Emma protested. “Please. I can’t do it alone. She’s too heavy. I’m not that strong.”
Kerri shot her a disappointed look. “I don’t believe you, Emma. After all you’ve been through tonight you’re going to give up now? I don’t think so.” She slipped the strap of the troopers’ tactical bag down off her shoulder and draped it over Emma’s.
Emma sagged under its weight. Kerri pulled the Sig from Cat’s shoulder holster. She considered handing it directly to Emma, then thought twice about it and stuffed it into the tac bag instead, making it even heavier.
Emma opened her mouth to protest but Kerri cut her off. “Just keep her close between you and the glass walls. Wedge her against a mirror if you need to take a break. And don’t even think about shooting a gun in here unless you absolutely have no other choice. Now go.”
“No, Kerri, please,” Emma whimpered. “We have to stay together like the trooper said.”
“Nick left me in charge and there’s no time to argue. I have to slow those things down or none of us will make it out alive. Find someplace safe. A room with a sturdy door you can lock or someplace high up that those things can’t get up to. I’ll catch up with you… as soon as I can.”
Emma fought the idea a moment longer, then relented and hugged her. “Be careful, Kerri, please be careful.”
“Don’t worry about me, hon’, I’ll be fine.” She scanned the glass panels around them—still clear—then helped Emma pull Cat to her feet. The trooper’s wound had congealed, but she’d already lost a lot of blood. Combined with the effects of the pain medication, she was barely able to walk.
Kerri shook her gently. “Cat. Hey. Pull yourself together, girl.”
“Leave me. I can’t… ”
“We’re not leaving you,” Kerri said, her voice like iron. “So cut the crap. Emma’s taking you someplace safe. I’ll be with you as soon as I can. Then we’ll all get out of here together.”
Cat didn’t respond. She closed her eyes and sank back against a mirror, wishing they’d just let her sleep.
Kerri thought for a moment. If she didn’t get them moving right now Emma might crumble again. Reaching into her medical kit she pulled out a small vial, unscrewed the top and held it under Cat’s nose. Cat suddenly snapped awake.
“Here, take this,” Kerri pressed the vial into Emma’s hand. “It’s smelling salts. Keep it like this, in your hand with your thumb over the hole. If you feel her starting to sag, give her a good strong whiff. Do it quick before she has a chance to lose her footing and you won’t have any problems. Just act fast to keep her up on her feet.”
A zombie banged into a glass panel beside them. They turned to see it looking at them through the glass, its hunger flaring, eyes clearly focused on Cat’s bloody wound. Raising its blood-stained hands it clawed at the invisible barrier and tried to bite through it, moaning in ghostly frustration, working itself into a lather. Three of its fingers were stripped to the bone—and Kerri saw Emma’s eyes go wide as she saw them.
“Don’t look at it!” Kerri barked, before the fear could set roots. “Go!”
This time Emma obeyed, jolted by the appearance of the hungry cadaver. With Cat’s good arm draped over her shoulder, she shuffled forward through the maze. After passing through two tiny cubicles, Emma felt Cat slipping to the floor and quickly pinned her body against a panel.
“Leave me…” Cat whispered drowsily. “I just need a little sleep.”
“Shut up,” Emma said firmly. As scared as she was right now, she was more afraid of being alone again. “No one gets left behind.” She pushed the vial of smelling salts under Cat’s nose. The trooper winced but the acrid fumes did their job.
“Stay with me, Cat,” Emma pleaded, as the trooper straightened up. “I need you. You can rest as soon as we find someplace safe.”
Cat nodded weakly and forced her legs to move. They passed through two more cubicles before she needed to rest again. They were there for less than ten seconds when a trio of cadavers appeared through an adjacent panel, stumbling ineptly, bumping into the panels around them, bumping into each other.
They didn’t seem to be aware of the women. Emma rightly guessed that the panel separating them was a one-way mirror blocking their view, but she froze in place nevertheless, afraid that any movement or noise might draw their attention.
She wondered if they were strong enough to break the glass between them. No, she concluded, these panels are built to withstand people banging into them all the time. They have to be super-strong to prevent any accidents.
Finally the corpses wandered away, vanishing into the maze.
Instead of relief, Emma felt increased anxiety. They’d vanished so quickly that it underscored how delusive the maze was. Voracious ghouls could be lurking unseen just a few feet away… hidden behind any mirror… waiting around the next turn.
Cat slumped again, her weight dragging Emma toward
s the floor.
“No, Cat. Stay up.” Emma struggled to prop her up. She raised the vial of salts to her face and pressed it against her nose. “Breathe, Cat… breathe!”
Cat inhaled a meager whiff of the vapors, which gave her the wherewithal to suck in a stronger dose. Emma finally got her straightened up, propped against a mirror panel.
Suddenly a zombie materialized in the mirror, stomping purposefully toward them.
Emma whirled around to see it in the next cubicle, lurching forward, its eyes locked hungrily on Cat’s bloody wound. Her mind reeled, whipping her into action. Throwing her body back she pinned Cat against the mirror with her shoulder as she groped for the Colt revolver in her waistline. She grabbed hold of the revolver’s grip but as she tried to draw it, the barrel snagged under her belt. She tugged at it desperately, twisting and yanking. The ghoul was already crossing into their cubicle when she finally pulled it free.
She swung the revolver up and fired.
The force of the shot pushed the corpse back, but it rallied and came at her again.
Squeezing her eyes shut against the stinging cordite smoke Emma pulled the trigger again. Her second shot pierced the cadaver’s eye and it tumbled back but she fired again and again in her panic, not stopping until the hammer clicked twice on empty chambers.
She opened her eyes to the sound of breaking glass. Panel after panel cracked and crashed down before her, demolishing the maze’s carefully constructed chain of illusion. As the pungent gunsmoke cleared, a row of cubicles stood open before her. Jagged pieces of glass jutted from the sides of their frames like fangs in a series of giant sideways mouths.
Emma dropped the empty gun as she realized what she’d done. Whatever advantage the maze had afforded was gone.