When There's No More Room in Hell 2

by Luke Duffy

  "Carl, you stay here and man the roof with the radio," Steve instructed. He turned to Sarah who stood with her arms wrapped around her mother's waist. "It's okay, buddy, we're just going to go and take care of a few things. You stay close to your mum." He kissed her forehead and turned back to Carl. "Once we're out, help barricade the main doors. Make sure Helen stays here. We don't know how many have gotten into the park and I don't want anyone running around out there."

  "Be careful, Steve," Carl said as he nodded that he understood his instructions.

  They took the zebra patterned Land Rover that Gary used as the Park Ranger. Though it was old, it was reliable and well maintained. Gary knew every inch of the vehicle and what it was capable of doing.

  "We need to find the way they got in first and plug the gap," Gary suggested from behind the wheel. "At that end of the park, it's just fence lines and walls. The old access gate is there too, so maybe they managed to break it down?"

  "Maybe," Steve agreed, "but how, and why would there have been enough of them in that area to break through anyway? There's been the odd straggler in the past, but never enough to get through. It's off the beaten track and not all that accessible, especially to these mindless pus bags."

  The vehicle bounced and rocked as Gary steered it, cross-country, toward the rear gate. "Could have something to do with what we discussed earlier, Steve," he commented.

  "You mean the sabotage?"

  "Yeah."

  John, Lee and Jake all heard Gary's words from where they sat in the back of the Land Rover and looked at each other quizzically. That one word caused a degree of discomfort amongst them. The word hinted at them being vulnerable in some way. Someone had gotten to them. In spite of their regular checks and patrols to ensure the walls were secure and the people were safe, someone either from outside or within, did not want them to stay that way.

  They pulled up at a safe distance from where they knew the gate was. A clump of trees surrounded the area and the dark cavernous gap between them where the track disappeared into the gloom seemed like the mouth of a giant beast that would swallow them up. They stood and watched the track where it led up to the gate for a while.

  Nothing moved.

  Behind them, the dead moaned and staggered on uneasy legs as they followed them. They were still a distance away and no immediate threat. Gary had made a point of ensuring the dead saw the vehicle as they headed for the rear gate, hoping to lure them in a different direction from the house. The worst thing possible would be for some of them to ignore the Land Rover and continue into the rest of the park. There would still have to be a clearance of the whole place. They could not afford to have even one walking corpse left wandering around within the walls.

  Clutching their weapons, they moved toward the trees. Steve was in front, his hammer in one hand and axe in the other. Lee was at his side, his heavy iron bar ready. Gary, John and Jake were to protect their rear and deal with any of the dead that approached from behind. The dark track was too narrow to have too many people up in front. There would be too much of a risk of them crashing into and over each other if they were suddenly attacked with overwhelming numbers and needed to withdraw.

  Steve and Lee entered the shadowy trees. The gate lay open; the chain, which was used to secure it, was nowhere to be seen. A dark figure stumbled toward them from beyond the opening. The trees cast everything in gloom, including the figure, but there was no mistaking it for what it was. The slow shambling gait and the swaying arms that moved in rhythm with each unsteady step.

  It stopped and looked down at something on the ground. It dropped to its knees and began to tear at it and stuff chunks of it into its mouth. The creature chewed noisily and slurped at the dark, almost black blood that dribbled from the corners of its mouth and down onto its chin. The wet blood glistened in the particles of light that managed to penetrate the thick canopy of the trees above, giving off the illusion of sparks of light emanating from the ghouls rotted mouth.

  At that distance, Steve could not tell what the thing was eating, but it was clearly something that had been planted there for it. He slowly edged his way closer, treading carefully and straining to see what was on the ground. Five metres away and he recognised the torn open body of a dog. Around its neck was a length of rope that was attached to a stake driven into the ground.

  Lee quickly rushed forward, raising his heavy iron bar above his head. The creature, its face covered in blood, looked up as he approached. Its lips curled back in a snarl and the claw like hands came up expectantly to meet Lee. As it tried to stand, the blow landed. The bar crunched into the top of the skull, smashing through the bone. The force of the swing caused the neck to snap and the body instantly fell back to the ground at the side of the devoured dog.

  "Somebody wanted them in." It was an obvious statement, but Steve was thinking aloud. The dog had been used as live bait to entice them up the track and into the Safari Park.

  Before investigating further, they needed to secure the gate and deal with the ones inside. They slid the bolt back into place and headed back towards the others. Already at their feet, a number of bodies lay with their skulls smashed in.

  More were coming.

  "Head for the high ground, we can see them coming better," John ordered.

  Everybody turned to their left and run up the small rise, leaving the Land Rover behind on the track.

  At the top of the slope, more reanimated dead stumbled toward them. The five moved as a team. Stepping forward together as if medieval knights going into battle and wielding their weapons in their hands, they met the walking human carcasses head on. Blow after blow rained down on to the heads of their opponents. Bodies lay strewn over a wide area as they fought to clear and protect the park and the people within.

  Jake smashed his bat into the face of a woman as she lunged at him. The bones crunched and she collapsed at his feet. As he stepped over her, she grabbed at his legs, causing him to trip and fall to the ground. Within an instant, another reached for him from above and grabbed at his face.

  Struggling to stand, Jake found himself in a battle with two of the dead. The woman on the ground continued to pull at his legs, all the while snapping her teeth at his soft flesh while the other gripped onto his hair, trying to pull Jake's face towards its gaping mouth. Jake was staring straight into its throat. The foul odour reached his nostrils as he thrashed and struggled in their grip.

  He felt pressure on his toes and realised that the woman was trying to chew through his shoe. He fought to pull his foot free, but she came with him, her teeth clenched tightly around his foot. With a scream, he ripped himself free from the grasp of the hands that clutched at his head. Clods of his hair came away in its fingers as he pulled his head back. He felt the sting of the roots being plucked from his scalp, causing his eyes to water and blur.

  Quickly, he forced himself upright. He raised his bat again above his head and smacked it down on the woman's skull. He felt extra pressure on his toes within the shoe for a moment as the skull caved in under the blow, and then her jaw fell slack.

  Pulling his foot free, he sprang to his feet and stepped to the side as he swung the bat at the head of the second ghoul. The shot hit home and the body was sent hurtling backward. Jake took no chances and as the corpse fell to its knees, he followed up with a second blow, ensuring the creature was down and unable to get back up.

  He stood, panting and sweat pouring down his forehead and into his eyes. His heart pounded at his chest wall and his knees shook. He knew how close he had been to dying. He had landed himself in trouble due to his carelessness and now, with the battle over and as the adrenalin faded from his system, exhaustion and nausea took hold of him.

  Steve looked back at the sound of Jake heaving and vomiting uncontrollably. He surveyed the scene that they had created around them. The dead lay strewn all around, twisted and grotesque with their heads smashed in. Some were nothing more than rotted flesh and bone with limbs missing and deformed beyo
nd recognition, while others still held the appearance of human beings, fresh and intact.

  There were children too.

  That was never a sight Steve could get used to. Though he had no hesitation in doing what needed to be done with them, or any doubt about what they were and capable of doing, it still haunted Steve and probably most other people he guessed, that they had once been young and innocent children.

  "You okay, mate?" he asked, rubbing between the shoulders blades of Jake as he stood, doubled over as another bout of sickness gripped him.

  "Yeah, I suppose so," he replied after a moment as he regained himself and wiped his mouth on the back of his sleeve. "I thought they had me there."

  Steve patted him on the back. He understood how Jake was feeling. It was not cowardice or fear as such. It was the adrenalin followed by relief. It surged through all their veins at moments like that.

  In addition, he knew that he had to contend with the fight or flight instinct that was natural to them all. Steve had felt it himself on a few occasions and he knew it was a true test of character to be able to resist the urge to turn and run for safety. If Jake had done that, the others could have been left with a serious problem.

  Gary raised the radio to his mouth. "Carl, are you getting me?" He too was sweating profusely and his chest rose and fell, hard and fast. He had fought his way through three of the dead and, like Jake, had found himself having to take on two of them at once.

  "Yeah, Gary, you're loud and clear. Where are you?"

  Gary was still struggling to regain his breath and his words were strained. "Down by the rear gate, just over the rise. We'll secure the gate as best we can then we'll have to search the park for any we missed."

  "You did miss a few, Gary. I watched a bunch of them carry on towards the central area; about five, maybe six of them."

  "Shit," Gary hissed and turned to Steve. "We're going to have to be thorough on this, mate. Maybe get more people from the house to help?"

  "Yeah, tell Carl to take a couple of others on a search. Tell them to use a vehicle as much as they can and to clear the south and west area. Double check the main gate too and tell them, not to take any chances. If they need our help, call us on the radio."

  "You do know that Helen will insist on being part of it, don't you?"

  "I know," Steve acknowledged, fixing Gary with a hard stare. "She knows what she's doing."

  With the immediate area clear, the four of them decided on checking the track that led up to the rear gate for any indication of who had opened the barrier for the dead to get in. For about five hundred metres, it was nothing more than a narrow dirt path, overhung by wooded areas on either side, which cast the track into perpetual shadow.

  Even to a living person, the path was obscure and remote. It wound its way down to a grassy opening about the size of a football pitch and at the far end, a wide wooden gate led out onto a minor metalled road. They were secluded for miles and it was not likely that many of the dead would be travelling that sort of road.

  The gate now lay wide open.

  "Well, that settles it in my mind," Gary stated as they stood on the edge of the wood, looking towards the road. "Someone definitely let the bastards in."

  "How can you be so sure?" Jake asked. "I mean, someone could've neglected to secure the gate properly."

  "We've all checked each and every gate ourselves and they've always been secure. We check them as part of our morning patrols, Jake. You know that. Plus, there was the dog." Steve kept his eyes on the wooden gate and road as he spoke.

  "What dog?" Gary asked in surprise.

  Lee turned and nodded back the way they had come. "Up at the gate, the dead fuck that I killed was lay on top of it, so you probably didn't notice it but there was a dog tied up. Whoever did this used it as bait."

  Jake and John shared a glance and looked back at the gate.

  "Jesus," John hissed. "This isn't good at all."

  "It wasn't negligence that did this. Someone went to a lot of trouble to land us in the shit," Steve growled.

  John turned to him, "Who?"

  "I don’t know. Could be anyone and like Gary said about the fuel, even someone amongst us."

  Lee sucked in air from between his teeth and let out a long sigh. "Fucking hell, this is starting to sound like that movie, 'The Thing'."

  Steve chuckled at his reference, but understood his point. "Yeah, but Lee, we want to tread carefully on this. We don't want people being interrogated or even feel like they're under suspicion. In fact, I'd rather we didn't make this public knowledge."

  "Yeah, well you lot thought that that Tony bloke was great but I knew there was something about him."

  "I know, Lee, and I'm willing to trust your instincts on this. We just need to use discretion." Steve was staring straight into his eyes, trying hard to make his point clear.

  "That doesn't mean sneaking under people's beds at night or listening outside their windows dressed like a Ninja, Lee," Jake grinned.

  "Fuck off. I'd be scared of what I would see in your room; sweaty leather chaps and gimp masks everywhere." Lee snorted at his own joke and even Jake was trying hard not to laugh too loudly.

  "Okay then, if you two don't mind, let's get that gate closed then get back for the hunt." Steve stepped out from beneath the trees and headed for the open gate.

  4

  For weeks, they had been pounding at the door above him. Even with three metres of earth and concrete separating him from the monsters outside on the surface, he could still hear the dull thuds as they endlessly battered at the steel door.

  Simon was what could only be described as a 'survivalist'. For most of his life, he had taken a great interest in the techniques the experts used, to live off the land and survive when all others would succumb and die. He prided himself on his skill and ability.

  He could find water in even the most unlikely of places and he could start a fire from just a few dry leaves and pieces of tinder. He practiced his skills at every opportunity, never passing a chance to learn more or to improve on a technique.

  He endlessly watched Ray Mears construct basic instruments and tools from what he found around him and Simon mimicked his idol, even going as far as building a canoe from a hollowed out tree after watching one particular episode.

  The neighbour's laughs were ignored, even when they asked, "Hey Simon, where are you going to sail that thing, down the local canal?"

  He did not care about being the butt of people's jokes. He was happy doing what he did. During the week, he worked in an office as a computer programmer, something that he had been doing for twenty years. The job bored him and he constantly longed for the great outdoors. Therefore, on weekends, he took himself off to the National Parks and as far as he was concerned, lived free and completely independent from the modern gadgets and technology that humanity found so essential for their daily existence.

  No, Simon was happy as he was. He was well aware of his contradictory lifestyle of helping to bring the human race deeper into the cyber age with his computer programming by day and his utter contempt for it by night, but he saw it as unavoidable. He needed to work in order to be able to afford to do the things he liked.

  Often, he did fantasise about leaving it all behind and finding an untouched and remote patch of forest somewhere and disappearing from the radar. Never again would he have to worry about paying taxes, keeping on top of bills or even following the latest fashion trends. He could just live free and off the land. It would be all too easy for him to live that way but it was something he had never gone beyond daydreaming about.

  Originally, he had tried to join the army at the age of eighteen, but he was refused due to his eyesight and his asthma. It had been a devastating blow to him and he had reluctantly decided on using his natural ability with a computer to carve a career for himself. Soon, though, the deep feelings for all things natural surfaced again.

  Often, even though he loved learning new skills and tricks in the wild, he
did question the sense of it. "Why am I spending so much time roughing it in the woods, wiping my arse on leaves, lighting fires with sticks and rocks and then freezing my nuts off at night when I've completely misjudged the weather?" His answer was always simple and always the same, "Well, you never know." Before his brain could ask the next question about never knowing what exactly, he would put it out of his mind and go back to building his lean-to or setting his snare traps.

  The self-scrutinizing continued until one day in 2009. In an article in one of his monthly survivor magazines, he began to read about the Mayan Calendar and the theories surrounding it. Mainly, what happens when it runs out? He cross-referenced it to all the other Doomsday predictions such as Nostradamus and the Bible. It all seemed to point to the fact that something big, he did not know what, would happen in 2012.

  Simon was gripped. The idea of an apocalyptic event in his lifetime where he would have the chance to use his skills for real life survival filled him with excitement and a fresh drive to further his crafts. Though people theorised that it could be an asteroid, solar flares and other worldwide devastating events, Simon chose to believe in the less drastic and final ideas such as war and plague, or famine. He considered even alien invasion as being survivable.

  That was when he began constructing his bunker.

  The last thing he had expected was for the dead to start walking and attacking the living. That had come as a complete shock to him and had hit him blindside.

  At the bottom of the large garden to his old Victorian detached house, he dug out an area five metres wide by seven metres long and six metres deep. He had surfed the internet for the blueprints of a number of different 'do it yourself' nuclear fallout shelters and with his own knowledge and intelligence, came up with his own design, incorporating the different techniques he had seen.

  Once again, he was back to being asked numerous questions by his neighbours. At one point, even the police were involved because someone had reported him. They soon found out that he had actually obtained planning permission for it. As it did not interfere with any land belonging to other people or water mains, gas pipes and electrical cabling, and an architect and engineer had been consulted and hired to inspect the different phases of the build, much to the annoyance and dismay of some of his neighbours, he was free to continue.