by Luke Duffy
Jim also noticed something else.
"Marcus," he whispered loudly as he pushed his way forward. "Marcus, have you seen any?"
They all stopped and crouched down, turning to look at Jim. "Have we seen any what?" Stu asked.
"Have you seen any of the dead, I mean the walking kind?"
It dawned on them that they had not. They had seen hundreds of bodies, but none that were moving. Marcus glanced around him, studying the lay of the land and making his own appreciation of the situation.
"Maybe they're all in the city? Something could've attracted them away from the suburbs," Marcus suggested.
"I doubt it," Jim shook his head. "Not all of them. There's always a few that stick around, you’ve seen enough of them to know that."
Stu nodded. "He's right. Something is up."
"Well we can't turn back now. We'll push on but keep an eye out," Marcus said impatiently.
Home was so close that he could almost taste it and his heart skipped at the thought of anything standing in the way of getting there.
They turned off the ring road. The sun had already dipped beneath the western horizon and the sky to the east had already begun to grow dark. At the bottom of the slipway, Marcus stopped. He raised his weapon up to his shoulder and began scanning in all directions. Stu, not sure why Marcus had stopped but knowing that there must be an anticipated danger up ahead, stepped out to the side and began to scrutinize the area for himself.
"What is it, Marcus?" he hissed from behind.
Marcus said nothing but began to slowly edge his way forward, headed towards something in the road that was unseen to the others.
Stu moved up closer from behind. He smelled the stench of decaying flesh and heard the hum of flies. Marcus stopped and studied a bulky form on the ground in front of him. Moving closer, Stu recognised the stripped carcass of what he thought was a cow. It had been picked completely clean. Its legs were missing and the head, nothing more than a skull, lay discarded a few metres away. It was nothing new to them; they had seen hundreds of consumed animals along their journey. The dead ate everything they could get their rotting hands on.
As he moved closer, Stu soon realised what had grabbed Marcus' interest so much. He saw the chain and ropes that had secured the animal to the barrier of the road. Someone had deliberately left it there for the dead.
"Jesus," Jim mumbled. "Why would anyone want to feed them?"
Marcus shrugged. "Maybe whoever did it thought they could satisfy their appetite and the dead would leave them alone? Fucked if I know, but I don’t want to hang around to meet them. We could be next on the menu."
Just a few hundred metres further on, they found the remains of another animal. Again, it had been incapacitated and chained to prevent it from escaping.
"What the fuck," Jim exclaimed.
Marcus looked up and turned in the direction they had come. He then turned in the direction they were headed and an icy finger ran along the length of his spine. The trussed animals had been planted in the same direction that they were going.
Marcus suddenly remembered Gary telling him over the radio that they believed there was a saboteur in their midst. Now, seeing the devoured animals deliberately planted for the dead, he was sure that someone was trying to lead the creatures to the park, the same park where his family were.
"Come on," he ordered, suddenly jumping to his feet and beginning to run.
They were just a few kilometres away and the thought that they could already be too late filled him with panic. Fear drove him forward, his legs pumping as fast as they could as he raced towards the Safari Park.
Stu, Jim and Hussein had also realised the same and followed Marcus. They sprinted for all their worth, their hearts pounding in their chests as they pushed their bodies to the limit. It was growing darker by the minute and the stars were already beginning to show in the dark sky to the east as the last rays of sunlight cast its dazzling colours over the western sky.
They sprinted by more dead animals, stripped of flesh and chained. Marcus increased his pace. From somewhere deep inside, he pulled out his reserves and powered forward. Suddenly, he stopped. The rest came to a halt behind him.
They were just metres away from the junction that led on to the access road of the Safari Park.
Jim's eyes bulged and his jaw almost dislocated when it dropped open as he stared at the sight before them. The street was packed with the staggering corpses of the dead. The snared animals had done their job and it looked as if all the dead in the area had converged towards the park.
Individuals began to detach themselves from the mass of bodies as they saw the four living men behind them. They staggered towards them, moaning loudly and reaching out to them. Their wails and movements attracted more of them to follow, and soon hundreds of the dead were headed straight for Marcus and his men.
Stu raised his weapon and began to fire. He poured round after round into the crowd without making the slightest difference to their numbers.
"What do we do, Marcus?" he screamed over the sound of the gunfire.
Jim and Hussein had also begun to shoot into the mass. Bodies dropped by their dozens, but more followed and continued to congregate towards them.
Marcus was shouting something to Stu, but his words were lost in the crescendo of the firing rifles. Stu stepped to his left, closer to Marcus and continuing to pick off his targets.
"What?" he screamed over the din.
Marcus moved in close to him and screamed in his ear. "The claymore, clear us a path," he shouted pointing to the bulging pouch on Stu's vest.
Stu suddenly realised what Marcus had been trying to tell him. He began to fumble with his vest, releasing the fastening clip to the pocket that contained the deadly mine. At the same time, he began screaming across to Jim and Hussein to follow him to cover.
Marcus was down beside a wall, covering the rest of the team as they jumped in next to him and into the protection that the thick bricks provided.
Stu was fumbling with the claymore. His hands shook uncontrollably and refused to obey his commands as tried to prepare the mine as quickly as possible.
"Come on, Stu," Marcus screamed as he pumped more rounds into the approaching sea of decaying flesh. "They’ll be all over us like a cheap suit in a minute."
More of the dead tumbled to the floor as the five point five six millimetre rounds smashed their way through their brains. The road became a writhing mass of flailing arms and wailing voices as the creatures trampled over the fallen and staggered towards the four men.
"Okay," Stu shouted. "Good to go."
He raised himself up and grunting with the effort, he hurled the claymore as far as he could into the mass bodies.
"Down, get fucking down," he screamed.
All four of them flattened themselves to the ground, covering their ears and opening their mouths to prevent the impending shockwave from shattering their teeth. Stu slammed his palm down on the clacker in his hand.
A split second later, the ground seemed to erupt all around them. A flash of light and a geyser of debris shot in to the air, sending dozens of the dead with it and scattering them over a wide area. The steel balls packed tightly into the explosives shot out in all directions, ripping their way through flesh and bone and shattering the top layer of bricks from the wall that Marcus and his team used for cover. The shockwave erupted out from the centre of the crowd as the mine was detonated, flattening everything for a hundred metres.
With ringing ears and blurred vision, Marcus jumped to his feet.
"Fuck me," he mumbled as Stu, Jim and Hussein raised themselves up beside him.
The claymore had done its job. The steel balls had ripped through the swarm, tearing them apart. The shockwave had done the rest. It had tore through the mass of dead and shattered their bones, leaving them as nothing more than sacks of rotting flesh.
Bodies lay strewn and twisted all around them. Those that were not dead were incapable of walking and lay i
n pools of their own filth as their remaining bodily fluids seeped out onto the ground all around them. Legs, heads and other body parts that were no longer recognisable as being human, littered the street like grotesque displays of art.
"Go, go," Marcus screamed, jolting the rest of his team into action.
He took off along the road, trying his best to step over the bodies as he ran. It was almost impossible to do, and on more than a few occasions his boots sank deep into the smouldering, dismembered remains of corpses.
They reached the junction. Only a few of the dead had managed to regain their feet and staggered towards them. They quickly dispatched them as they began moving through the crossroads.
Marcus paused a moment and looked to his left. A barrier of felled trees spanned the width of the access road leading down to the park. Through the branches, he saw more of the dead making their way towards them, the shooting and explosion obviously being what had attracted their attention.
"They're on the right," Jim shouted as he turned and fired wildly into the dark figures that made their way along the adjoining road. The shots were high and smashed into the buildings behind them.
Stu stepped in and raised his rifle.
"Don’t shoot," a voice cried out from the darkness as two shadowy forms began to run towards them.
They did not move like the dead; even the runners that they sometimes encountered were not so articulate. More to the point, the dead did not speak.
In the gloom behind the two approaching people, Stu could see a dark wall of bodies following them. He took aim and began to fire past the two running people and into the mass. Tracer rounds shot out along the street, glowing red in the darkness and looking like the laser beams from a science fiction movie. They thumped into the crowd, burning brightly as they pierced the flesh while other tracer rounds ricocheted upwards in the darkening sky.
"Don’t shoot," the voice, screamed at them again, "stop fucking shooting at us."
"Run, you two, run!" Stu cried back at them.
The two figures flinched and cowered with every shot that whizzed by them, but they carried on forwards, sprinting towards the junction.
Ten metres out and Marcus' eyes grew wide. "Steve," he gasped. "What the fuck are you doing out here?"
Steve came to a halt in front of him. His face was bright red and his chest wheezed as he fought for air. His upper body fell forward and he braced his hands on his thighs, coughing and spluttering as he did so. A moment later and he threw his body upright and his head back, looking into the eyes of his brother.
"Good to see you too, Marcus," he said as he reached out and hugged him.
Marcus looked at the woman his brother had arrived with; she was beautiful, despite the strain and fear in her face and she held her composure much better than Steve did.
"I take it you must be Helen?" he said with a smile.
She nodded, placing her hands on her hips and breathing deeply as she regained her breath.
"We need to move, boss," Jim called as he watched the crowd of corpses from the street and beyond the barrier approaching.
Steve, still gulping for air, turned towards the road that ran along the outer wall of the Safari Park on its eastern side.
"This way," he croaked. "We've been using the rear gate to get in and out." He set off at a steady jog, Helen close on his heels with Marcus and the rest following.
Marcus caught up with his brother and ran at his side. "Someone has been leaving breadcrumbs, Steve."
"You mean the animals?" Steve replied without taking his eyes off the road ahead. "I know. They lead all the way to the city. There's a fucking millions of those things following us."
They reached the gate that led on to the track at the rear entrance of the park. Marcus put his hand out to his right and across Steve's chest, stopping him in his tracks.
"Hang on," he whispered.
Tethered to the fence and chewing away on the grass that grew beside it, a goat stood, completely oblivious to the danger that it was in. It looked up at them and bleated.
Marcus turned to the others and held a finger to his lips. He moved in closer and peered into the darkness of the trees that overhung the narrow track as Jim began attempting to free the animal.
"I think whoever did this, they're still here," Marcus whispered as he leaned in close to Steve. "Follow me and keep quiet." He turned to look back at the others and almost laughed.
Jim, clutching the chain in his hand like a dog leash, stood watching them expectantly with the goat standing at his side, a far from intelligent look on its face.
"Jim," Marcus whispered, "why you bringing the goat?"
Jim looked down at his new friend and then back up at Marcus as though the question was a stupid one.
"Well," he leaned forward and whispered in reply, "we can't leave him here, and besides, I like goat's milk."
"There's a problem there, Jim," Stu said with a smile. "You said it was a 'him'. How do expect to milk it? I want front row seats to that event."
Jim looked back at the goat then shrugged. "Fuck it, he's still coming with us."
Marcus and Stu led them forward along the track with Steve and Helen close behind. Jim, Hussein and the new edition to the team, the goat, covered the rear.
With the fading light and the thick overhanging trees, it was hard to see the track. Marcus and Stu stepped carefully, unsure of what to expect up ahead of them. They crept along with their rifles aimed straight ahead of them, ready for anything that appeared out of the darkness.
Marcus could hear something. He looked at Stu and raised his hand to his ear, nodding his head to their front, in the direction he suspected the sound to be coming from.
Stu cocked his head, focussing his hearing and squinted into the gloom. It sounded like the telltale clinks of metal against metal, as though someone was hammering away at something.
A few metres further on and Marcus stopped and moved into a crouch. Everyone followed suit. Just ahead of them and silhouetted by the faint light that cast down into the park on the other side of the fence, two figures squatted by the gate. They spoke to one another in hushed voices and Marcus was sure that one of them sounded feminine.
It was hard to tell what they were doing or whether they were armed, but regardless, Marcus and the other survivors needed to pass through the gate and in the process, stop whatever it was that the two people ahead of them were doing. He looked to his right and nodded at Stu. Together, they sprang to the feet and bounded forward.
The sudden movement and noise of their footsteps alerted the two figures at the gate to their presence. The first turned, wielding something in its hand and raising it above its head. Marcus did not hesitate. He squeezed the trigger and sent four shots racing towards the dark shape that he judged to be a threat.
In the bright muzzle flash, he saw the figure of a man jerk as the rounds punched through his chest. The man screamed and tumbled backwards, hitting the fence and slumping to the side.
The other figure was too slow to react. Stu had already closed the distance and launched himself in the air, landing heavily on to the person's back. He began pounding away at its head and neck with the butt of his rifle, raining down heavy blows and forcing them to the ground.
She began to scream.
29
Simon's pale white skin was soaked with sweat. His eyes were sunken and his cheekbones protruded more prominently, giving the impression that his skin seemed to be stretched taut over his face. His eyelids fluttered continuously and his breath came in hoarse gasps as the infection raged through his body.
Johnny stood by him, watching over him and doing what he could to comfort his friend; there was nothing else that he could do. He knew that Simon was going to die and Johnny wished that he had the strength and character to speed up the process, to relieve him of the suffering that he was going through.
For the past two days, since he was bitten, Simon had existed in a realm that was neither living nor dead. A
s the virus ravaged his body he became more delirious, sinking in and out of consciousness and completely unaware of his surroundings. The fever burned stronger in him by the hour. Sometimes, he would flail his arms, screaming and crying out unintelligible sentences, and other times he would burst into laughter for no reason. Simon was beyond help and Johnny felt completely helpless.
John lay on the bed placed beside Simon. He, too, was in a similar state. The veins in his neck stood out black against his deathly pale skin as his blood raced around his body, carrying the ever-multiplying infection as it slowly destroyed him from within.
Carl also stood vigil over the two dying men. He and John had been close, as Johnny and Simon had, and they felt that it was only right that they be the ones to help them pass over. He looked across to the far corner of the room. On the table lay the instrument that he and Johnny had agreed was best to take care of the two unfortunate men once they died.
A knot formed in his throat as he pictured himself carrying out his duty. His stomach churned and he felt a wave of nausea flood over him. He did not relish the task ahead, but he was determined to see it through, his last act as a friend to John.
The windows in the room suddenly rattled in their frames, closely followed by a low muffled booming sound in the distance and the floor beneath their feet vibrated, as though the house was being shifted by some gigantic machine. Carl looked at Johnny in confusion. The scruffy little bearded man looked back at him calmly, shrugging his shoulders.
"What the fuck was that?" Carl asked, knowing that Johnny had as little idea of what it could have been as he did.
Carl turned and headed for the door. "Stay here, Johnny, I'll be back soon."
In the foyer, the people of the house had begun to gather. Everyone had heard the sound and felt the vibrations, and their curiosity compelled them to investigate. Excited and concerned voices echoed through the house and questions bounced around in the large space of the main reception room to the mansion, but there were no answers.