by Luke Duffy
"I'm going to check how we're doing out front. You okay here, Lee?" he said stepping away from the railing.
Lee did not turn to answer him and he continued dancing and waving his arms as he made as much noise as possible. "Yeah, no worries, mate, all good here."
Steve turned away and headed into the gloomy interior of the storage area and administration offices at the back of the supermarket. Lee had always been unhinged so there was nothing new to worry about in that respect, but still, there was always the 'crazy idea' factor that Lee had been prone to at times.
He remembered an incident from their childhood, when he had left Lee in charge of matters once before. A decision that proved disastrous.
During the summer holidays when they had their annual six-week break from school, there was little for the children of the neighbourhood to do and, as a result, boredom and trouble were never far away. Therefore, it was up to them to make their own fun.
Steve and Lee had their own little group during their youth. They were a close-knit bunch and to Steve, they were almost a stereotypical, Stephen King style gang that always seemed to be a template for the child characters in his books. They had the gang leader, Steve, and the unpredictable and unstable character in the form of Lee. The 'nerd' and the 'fat kid' were also accounted for.
One day, they had built themselves a base camp in the garden of one of their friend's houses. The friend happened to be Lee's cousin and the token 'fat kid' of the gang, Chris. They spent the whole morning clearing out the junk and motorbike engine parts from the disused shed they would use as their lair and by midday, they had a cosy little clubhouse. They had even gone to the extent of fitting old discarded rugs and furniture, even nailing up wallpaper because Chris' father would not allow them to use paste.
The four of them stood back and admired their efforts with pride, safe in the knowledge that they had somewhere to hang out during the long summer evenings and maybe, parents’ permission allowing, even sleep from time to time with sleeping bags and a campfire, and of course, ghost stories.
"Right, Lee," Steve had said as he turned to his old and trusted friend before he left to go and get his lunch, "look after the place while I'm gone. I'll only be half an hour."
Lee waved him off. "Yup, no worries, Steve, I'll look after it."
Thirty minutes later, Steve noticed black clouds of smoke billowing from the garden of Chris' house as he approached. Sprinting through the gateway, he was met with a sight that beggared belief.
The wooden den that they had worked so hard on now had gaping holes in its walls and roof. A fire raged in the corner as the wallpaper and furniture fed the blaze, allowing the licking flames to spread and travel up the walls, reaching to the ceiling and igniting the wooden roof.
Chris lay in the mud in front of the clubhouse, clutching his abdomen and screaming like a stuck pig with a screwdriver protruding from his stomach while Lee and Dave, the 'nerd', stood on the roof waving their arms and shouting for help.
The story unfolded that, once Steve was gone, there was no one to keep Lee in check. As he rummaged around in a toolbox that they had found amongst the junk, Lee had produced a screwdriver and decided it would be a good idea to thrust it into the large, soft belly of his cousin, Chris.
As Chris shrieked and dropped to the floor in agony, Lee panicked and in his attempt to avert any attention from the screams of his bleeding cousin, he decided to conduct a fire drill to ensure that the clubhouse was safe. Realism was the key in his mind, so he struck a match and held it to one of the dried out rugs, and within seconds the fire engulfed a whole portion of the clubhouse while Lee ran around, kicking the wooden slats from the walls, creating makeshift fire escapes.
Afterward, and true to form, Lee denied any involvement in the incident and blamed everyone else.
Steve smiled to himself at the memory, shaking his head as he walked along the dimly lit corridor. He could hear Lee, still outside on the steel balcony, taunting the wailing and frustrated dead below him.
John stood in the doorway at the far end, ready to relay messages from the other members of the group in the front of the supermarket, keeping Steve and Lee updated on the movements and size of the crowd outside pressing against the windows.
"Keep an eye on him, will you?" Steve nodded to John as he passed. "Don’t let him do anything stupid."
John chuckled. "Lee, do anything stupid? You have him all wrong, Steve. No worries, mate, but if he decides to jump down there, don’t expect me to follow him. He's a crazy bastard, that friend of yours."
Steve stopped. His eyes suddenly widened as he held on to the doorframe, staring back at John and cocking his head to one side.
John was about to apologise, thinking that he had offended Steve with the remarks about his friend. Steve held up a hand, silencing him before he had the chance to speak.
"Do you hear that?" he asked, turning his head and angling his ear towards the open doorway where Lee continued to make a racket.
John shook his head, "I don’t hear anything. What is it?"
Steve changed the angle of his head, focussing as he tried to identify and pinpoint the noise he had heard. He was sure he had heard something other than Lee banging about and screaming out the lyrics to the song, 'Yellow Submarine', accompanied by the moans of the dead outside.
"I thought I heard..." He took a couple of steps back towards the door that led out on to the steel walkway.
"Lee," he hollered, "shut up a minute will you?"
The noise and the singing stopped abruptly and Lee shoved his head back through the door and peered into the gloom. "What's up, Steve, you don’t like my singing?"
"Shut up and listen," Steve snapped. He stared at the floor, a look of deep concentration spread across his face as John and Lee looked at one another, perplexed.
Steve snapped his head back up, his eyes like saucers. "Shit, the tanker," he exclaimed. "Someone is in the tanker. Lee, stay here," he ordered and bolted through the door and deeper into the supermarket.
He bounded down the steps in the dark stairwell that led to the shop floor, his feet slapped against the linoleum flooring and his breathing echoed around him in the tight space. He took the stairs five at a time, his palms sliding along the handrail to guide him and prevent him from falling in the darkness. He burst through the double doors at the foot of the staircase and out into the brightly lit supermarket interior, illuminated by the sun beaming through the tall glass panes that ran the length of the building's front and the wide expanse of skylights above. The doors slammed shut behind him with a bang as he took off down the aisles to where the others waited and watched the dead outside.
"The truck," he shouted. "Where's the truck?"
Helen was standing at the far end, her arms folded across her chest as she turned to see Steve sprinting down the aisle and screaming something about the truck. She suddenly felt unnerved at the sight of him in a panic.
"Steve, what's up, what's happened?"
Steve skidded to a halt as Jake and the two young newcomers, Kieran and Stan, appeared from around the corner. Gasping for breath, he struggled to form his words.
"The tanker…someone is in it." He sucked in a deep breath. "Can't you hear it?"
The four of them paused and stared at the hundreds of dead figures that stood and stared back at them from beyond the tall windows. They craned their necks to see above the bobbing heads of the wall of gaunt and lifeless faces, trying to catch a glimpse of the large tanker that they had positioned at the entrance to the shopping complex the previous day.
Helen suddenly spun and grabbed Steve by the arm. The others also turned to him as they, too, heard the sound of the tanker's horn.
"Shit," Jake muttered, "someone's stealing our truck."
Steve ran forward and vaulted himself up on to one of the checkout counters, standing on his tiptoes to get a better view. He was just a couple of metres away from the glass barrier that separated him from the horrific figures outside.
He saw the numerous bodies that turned away from the rest of the group at the window as they staggered towards the far end of the car park. They had been so tightly packed in at the windows, that no one had been able to notice the crowd starting to thin out from the rear, and their continuous wailing and hammering at the glass had drowned out the noise of the truck's horn blasting away.
"There it is," Steve shouted as Stan jumped up beside him. "It's just sitting there."
Stan saw the dozens of bodies that now surrounded the tanker and watched as they began to beat at its doors and steel bodywork.
"What's he doing?"
"I'm not sure, but I think whoever it is, they're trying to help us out," Steve replied, not taking his eyes away from the large fuel truck.
Steve knew they needed to act quickly before the tanker was swamped and overrun by the dead. He spun and jumped down from the checkout counter.
"Jake, go and bring Lee and John back in and tell them we're leaving out through the front. Be quick about it, too, because we don’t have much time."
Jake nodded and turned into the aisle, breaking into a sprint as he headed to the rear of the supermarket and towards the staircase.
Helen stepped in close by Steve's side. She touched him lightly on the arm, gaining his attention. "You think this will work?" she asked.
Steve could see the apprehension in her eyes. He knew exactly how she was feeling because, at that moment, he had the very same fear running through his veins. But they had to move.
He nodded and motioned to the faces at the window. "I think it will. Look, you can see them thinning out. A few more minutes and we can pile into the Land Rover from the back and make a run for it to the tanker."
Kieran glanced across at Stan, raising his eyebrows, questioning the plan.
Stan shrugged back at him. "Sounds good to me, no time like the present and all that."
Steve heard their exchange and saw the doubt in Kieran's eyes.
"Look, it’s the same plan we were going to use anyway. Only they're scattered out around the front rather than them all being around the back. We planned on moving when they were thinned out anyway, not when they were all completely gone."
"I don’t know, Steve," Helen interrupted. "If we get stuck out front between here and the tanker, we'll be surrounded with nowhere to go."
Steve stared at the windows and bit down on his lip. "We'll be fine. As long as no one loses his or her head, we will do okay. Once we get to the tanker, whoever it is inside can just follow on behind us. They can come with us if they like, but that tanker is ours. That’s the only reason we came here in the first place and I don’t want to be leaving empty handed." He finished the sentence with a tone of determination and defiance in his voice.
A crash from deep within the supermarket, followed by the sound of pounding footsteps approaching from behind them, alerted Steve that Lee and John were on their way along with Jake.
Lee came to a halt in front of Steve, slightly out of breath. He peered past him and out into the car park.
"You're right, Jake, their leaving."
Steve turned to see that there were much fewer of the dead now than there had been just a minute before. He tossed the keys to the Land Rover across at Jake.
"Right, we need to move now. Jake, you're driving, mate. Everyone else, get in the back."
They turned and ran towards the broken window that was blocked by the rear door of their vehicle. Jake led the way, as he had to climb over and into the driver's seat from the rear compartment. He kept his attention focussed on the rear door ahead of him as he moved, avoiding any eye contact with the dozens of corpses that now pounded harder against the windows while their excitement grew as they watched the living human flesh dancing about just inches away from them beyond the glass barrier.
Jake leapt the last couple of metres to the rear door, fear and nerves gripping him from within. He wrenched the door open and began to scramble inside.
"Come on, hurry up," he screamed back at the others as he felt the Land Rover begin to rock and judder as the crowd swarmed and started to push against it, beating their fists at the outside in an attempt to gain entry.
Lee followed and vaulted through the rear compartment, landing in the passenger seat next to Jake who was fumbling with the keys, trying to insert them in the ignition. His hands shook and sweat poured in his eyes as fear clawed at his nerves, hindering his attempts to get the vehicle started.
"Come on, Jake. Get this bucket of bolts started, will you," Lee growled as he flinched from the dead that hammered against the window at the side of him. He turned his head and called back to the rear compartment and out to the people that were still in the supermarket.
"Come on, let's fucking go."
Jakes hands were trembling more by the second as he struggled to line the key up with the small slit in the steering column.
"Fuck, fuck," he murmured to himself from fear and frustration.
The rear of the Land Rover dipped slightly as Stan and Kieran climbed in and scurried up close behind the driver's seat. The key slid into the ignition and Jake let out a gasp of relief as he turned it. At first, the engine coughed and sputtered, then rumbled as the motor turned and the pistons began to pound down onto the cylinders, igniting the fuel and creating a chain reaction.
Jake dipped the clutch and threw the vehicle in gear, holding the clutch just below the bite in anticipation of a speedy get away once that everyone was aboard. He looked back over his shoulder and saw John, both hands holding on to the rear doorframe and hauling him up to the rear compartment.
"Come on, John, come on," he chanted to himself through gritted teeth.
A bloodied figure suddenly slammed itself into the window beside him. The skin from the lower half of its face was gone with blood and mucous dripping from its jaw as the pale dead eyes stared back at him. It hit the glass with a thud, causing Jake to flinch and squirm away with shock.
His foot slipped from the clutch and the Land Rover suddenly juddered and lurched forward a metre, and then stalled.
He looked across at Lee, his eyes wide with panic as he realised the possible consequences of his mistake. He reached down and fumbled with the keys again, trying desperately to get the engine started.
In the sudden movement of the Land Rover, John lost his balance. His foot slipped from the rear step of the vehicle, and while his hands remained gripping the frame, his body fell forward. His forehead hit the steel bumper with a thud, sending a white flash of pain that emanated from his eyes and shot into his brain. He lost his grasp on the doorframe and landed on the ground in a heap. He sprang back to his feet and attempted to reach the frame of the door again as Stan and Kieran thrust their arms out to him.
"John, come on, grab my hand!" Stan screamed as he reached out from the rear of the vehicle, willing the man forward and to safety.
The dead closed in all around him. John felt the terror rising within him and began swinging his fists and pummelling the heads that were closest as he fought his way toward the Land Rover. The dead toppled to the ground as blow after blow sent them flying with broken skulls from the impact of the powerful man's shovel-like fists. Their hands grasped and clutched at him as he powered his way through. He could feel numerous clutching fingers tugging at his clothing, trying to drag him back into the crowd, but they could not stop him; he was too strong for the dead.
John reached out, his fingers just inches away from Stan. A dark figure, its skin charred and burned leaving its features unrecognisable, lunged out from around the side of the Land Rover. It wrapped both hands around John's forearm, the bony fingers digging into his skin as it latched onto him tightly. It pulled its blackened, grinning face closer, gnashing its teeth in anticipation as it moaned loudly. Its mouth opened wide, bearing its rotting and broken teeth.
John screamed with fear, his eyes bulging from his head as he stared down into the black festering cavern of its mouth. He yanked his arm hard, trying to break the creature�
�s hold, but it held him in a vice-like grip as it pulled itself closer, leaning its head and gaping mouth towards the thick fleshy forearm of the struggling man.
The thing moved to bite down on the soft flesh as John threw a punch at the creature's head in an attempt to pull himself away in time, but it was too late. His fist hit hard against the eye socket, crushing it beneath the blow and causing a large portion of its face to cave inward. The force of John's punch sent it sprawling, but not before it had bit down, its teeth piercing the skin.
As its head snapped backward, it tore a large portion of flesh from John's arm. He felt the skin tear and the muscle beneath being ripped from the bone as the corpse was launched away by the blow. A gush of blood shot through the air, splattering himself and the dead closest to him. He began to scream. For a second he stood there, staring at the oozing and throbbing bright red wound as he howled with pain fear and anger.
More of the dead closed in around him.
Stan and Kieran jumped from the vehicle and began kicking and punching their way through in an attempt to save John.
The dead pulled the burly man to the floor, swarming him and tearing at his flesh. John was on the ground, the dead piling in on top of him, screaming as he curled himself into a ball with dozens of wounds to his shoulders and upper arms as their teeth and clawing hands set upon him.
Kieran reached him first and gripped him under his arms as he pushed and kicked the frenzied dead aside.
"Stan," he screamed. "Grab him, Stan. Help me."
The pair of them hauled John back and bundled him into the rear of the Land Rover. The dead moved in and slammed themselves against the door as Stan managed to pull it shut, trapping and severing one of their putrid arms in the process. It dropped to the floor of the vehicle and Stan kicked it to the corner as he spat at it in disgust.
Lee was screaming and shouting with anger from the front while John, wailed and howled with pain as he bled from the numerous wounds to his body. Kieran quickly removed his jacket and began tearing the sleeves from it to use as makeshift bandages to cover John's injuries. All the time, the dead battered at the vehicle.