They disappeared behind the wall of the paint shop, heading up the road, still arguing.
Noah strained his hearing. Apart from the old couple, there was nothing, just the wind, and the rain echoing a staccato sound on the car roof.
Noah gripped the rifle and headed across to the paint center, ducking and diving around the four cars. The sound of his breathing inside the mask was deafening.
The paint center was a two-story building. The front was the shop, and the back was the warehouse.
Noah headed down a thin back lane that led to the paint centers docking area. The front of the building look untouched, but the back was ransacked. A truck, parked up against the large back loading dock had its rolling back shutter open, with the contents scattered around the loading bay. Paint tins lay spilling their contents. The ground looked like a vast contemporary piece of art. Footprints of all sizes were scattered around in the paint, leading off in all directions.
The bay doors were wide open.
Paint tins were stacked on pallets four high. A row of cardboard boxes did not fare well from the rain; they had collapsed, spilling their contents of paintbrushes and tape over the loading bay, onto the back yard.
Noah climbed up a metal ladder the seven feet to the concrete loading bay platform. He stood listening. There was just the sound of the wind whistling around the warehouse and some loose cling film flapping on one of the pallets.
Noah headed in. There was row upon row of metal and wood shelving. He started checking them all. There were all sizes of tins, in every shade imaginable. Brushes, rollers, sponges, scrapers, trays, tape, and aerosol cans.
He inched his way along the wide aisles. Some were too high to reach. He craned his neck to check above. There was just too much stuff; he would have to check out on the shop floor.
A large double door, with plastic strips hanging down, led to the shop. Carts were abandoned with stock piled up. Vandals had ransacked the place. Shelving was tipped over, with dented and opened tins littering the floor. The place was huge. He had never been in it before, so he did not know the layout. He simply walked up each aisle, as if out on a shopping trip.
Bingo!
Noah found the car spray section, with all the aerosol cans. On a hook were a couple facemasks, cheap paper ones with elastic string.
No good.
Around the end of the aisle was the expensive equipment. A full-face filtration system with an attached electric pump breathing apparatus. Too bulky. Next to it was an insect looking, blue facemask that covered the lower half of the face. He grabbed the last one on the hook. There may have been more on the floor, mixed in with all the items that had been ripped from the hooks and knocked off the shelves.
Goggles. Goggles. Where are the goggles?
They were opposite. There was more of a choice, so he grabbed six pairs of various shapes and sizes, so Red could pick whichever was comfiest.
Sorted. Time to get back to Red.
Noah headed for the back of the store, towards the warehouse, planning to exit where he had entered, when he noticed the steps.
I wonder what’s on the second floor? There might be a staff breakroom with food? he reasoned. Best to check while I am here, save having to go out looking for more food when ours runs out.
He caught himself thinking ours. He pushed it to the back of his mind. Now’s not the time for trying to work everything out. There is a time and a place for everything.
Noah left the mask and goggles on the bottom step, inside a small box he found on the floor. He jogged up the stairs two at a time.
The warehouse was two floors high, but above the shop was a large selection of offices and the breakroom. Noah went through the fridges. There was nothing edible, and the kitchen was smashed up for good measure.
Noah found himself in the office of the store manager. Photos of his family were all over the wall. They looked happy and content.
A loud pulsating, chop-chopping sound made him move toward the window, as a helicopter flew over head. It had been the first one he had seen in weeks. When the outbreak had first started, they seemed to be forever flying overhead. This one though was streaming a trail of black smoke, and wobbling, as if the pilot was struggling with the controls. He watched as it tried to hover in the distance, and then sink below the roofline, way too fast, twisting around in circles as it descended.
That would be near Courtney Park, he thought.
The sound of the helicopter receded, leaving an eerie silence. That is when he heard the wheezy breathing, coming from the next office.
14
Doctor Lazaro
Military Merlin Transport Helicopter
Courtney Park, Newton Abbot, Devon
10:46 AM GMT
Melanie’s head was spinning. Or is it the helicopter that is spinning? She thought. She had to concentrate on not throwing up. She jostled hard against the webbing, as her body pitched from side to side. Then the sheer g-force the spinning helicopter was creating pinned her back against the grey padding. She could not move even if she wanted to.
A loud pinging alarm squawked around the confines of the hold.
A container broke free from the webbing in the center, flying through the air, catching a soldier in the face, crushing his skull. Pulp and brain matter sprayed over Melanie’s face. Others shouted in defiance at death. Some sat praying, with their eyes clenched tight.
The helicopter was going down, and fast. Just at the last moment, the pilot pulled of some last minute maneuver. Whatever he did; it stopped the hunk of metal hitting with full force. The crashing jolt reverberated throughout the hull, twisting the frame, shattering glass and crumpling metal. The machine slid along the ground, churning up grass and mud, until some piece of the outer structure caught on something and flipped the helicopter over, making it roll a few times, making everything inside weightless, before coming to a grating halt.
Melanie was still conscious. Her body had not completely recovered from the drugs the nurse had pumped into her earlier, so she had been relaxed, making her body limper than normal, which saved her from serious contusions.
Others did not fare so well. The two soldiers, who were injured, and had been on stretchers, had been tossed about like rag dolls when the harnesses snapped. Melanie had seen them both shoot up into the air, smacking against the roof, when they first hit the ground.
The spotty soldier, who first noticed she was awake, and had raised the alarm, was missing his head; it was smeared along the grey padding behind him, and splattered over Melanie’s face. It had all happened so quickly, his heart was still pumping blood out of his neck in a stream that sprayed across the ceiling.
Her arms were still held by the webbing harness, so she could not wipe the blood and gore from her eyes and out of her mouth.
Some part of the crumpled helicopter settled and moved slightly, making a loud grating sound.
The shock was wearing off. Groaning, and whimpering started to echo around inside the metal hull.
A couple of soldiers had unharnessed themselves and was checking on their companions. One was holding his hand over a chest wound, staunching the flow of blood from a piece of metal that was protruding from the mans chest.
Melanie could twist her head to one side, to see out the shattered side window. The crashed helicopter was resting up against some kind of bandstand, in the middle of a large park. She could hear water running from somewhere. However, what was most unsettling was the horde of ten or so creatures, that used to be humans, running along the ground, heading straight for the crashed helicopter and the warm bodies inside.
15
Red
Newton Abbot, King Street
The Mortgage Company’s Breakroom
10:47 AM GMT
“He’s gonna be fine,” Red muttered to herself. “He’s only been gone about ten minutes. It’s a big paint center; he will be back any minute.” Red stood facing the door Noah had left by, with the arrow notched and ready.
A creaking sound echoed behind her, coming from the door that led off into the main building.
Fuck! She spun around; the arrow was now pointed at the door leading into the mortgage company. He wouldn’t have come back through the main building, would he? Her hands were sweating.
Just the building settling, nothing more. Get a grip.
Then, there was another sound from behind the closed door. It sounded like something being dragged along the carpet.
Red used her forearm to wipe the sweat from her forehead, and then re-aimed the arrow at the center of the door. Her hands were trembling slightly, making the arrow wobble.
Suddenly, the muted sounds became a loud thud, as something hit the door from the other side.
Red jumped back a step, catching the back of her legs on the couch. She regained her balance and stood back up straight.
Shit, what if I missed a room and someone had been in there all this time? Impossible, I checked the place from top to bottom. The only other answer is someone has entered through a window or the front door.
Another thud that slammed the wooden door, shaking it on its hinges.
Fight or flight. Red had a choice, stand firm and wait for whatever it was to come crashing through the door, or run out the way Noah left, leaving behind all their worldly possessions, and try to find Noah.
However, before Red had chance to make a conscious decision, the door flew open, ripping it from the doorframe.
16
Noah
Newton Abbot, King Street
The Paint Center
10:48 AM GMT
Noah spun around; the breathing in the next room was loud and wheezy. He chastised himself for not noticing it when he first entered the room.
Images from the video filled his mind. He started to sweat. Noah raised the .22 air rifle.
What good would a small pellet do to one of those creatures? He thought. It was easy to scare a mindless chav, but senseless, animalistic beasts that look like they belong in a zombie movie, was a different matter.
Noah unclipped the hunting knife and held it in the hand that was balancing the rifle’s barrel.
If the pellet doesn’t work, I can use the rifle as a club, or swing out with the knife.
He inched his way along the wall. The doorway was the only way out, unless he wanted to jump a story to the concrete below.
There was a clatter of paint tins on the floor below.
Shit, how many of them are there? Maybe it is the yobs from earlier, and they have found me? He reasoned.
Then he heard the guttural sounds of something moving up the stairs, as if whatever it was could sense his presence, or smell him.
Another bang from downstairs, shortly followed by another. Whatever it was, there were a few of them.
Shit! I gotta run for it. Head along the hallway, check for another exit. I can’t be cornered in this room.
It was need, not bravery that made him run out into the hallway. As he spun around the corner, he looked over his shoulder. Coming up the stairs was a naked male and female, both covered in dried blood and gore. The instant they noticed him they sprung into action, giving chase.
Noah swung the rifle over his shoulder; it would be no good on them. He ran with all his strength down the hallway. Images of the young man in the video flashed before his eyes.
An exit! Perfect.
Off, in the distance, Noah could hear automatic gunfire, peppering in short bursts. However, he did not have time to think about whether it was coming from those in the downed helicopter.
Noah slammed into the exit door at full pelt, swinging the door open. It led to a set of metal steps leading down into a thin back alley, to one side of the paint center. Noah stood looking down.
Fuck! No way!
Behind him, the two naked creatures charged, screaming a guttural, throaty roar, while ripping at the walls as they ran along. Below him, down in the alley there were mounds of bodies, all bloated and vibrating, ready to explode.
###
To be continued...
Out Now
Part Two: Ruin
About the Author
Glen Johnson was born in Devon, England in 1973. He lives in a hotel on the English Riviera; a stones throw away from the beach. He loves to travel and has visited twenty-nine different countries, and lived in Mexico City, Mexico for far too long for a pale skinned European. He has also been married twice – and still refuses to say where he buried them. At present, as well as writing, he works as an Optical Technician.
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If you have enjoyed
THE SIXTH EXTINCTION
Part One – Outbreak
then don’t miss Glen Johnson’s other books.
THE SIXTH EXTINCTION
Part Two – Ruin
THE SIXTH EXTINCTION
Part Three – Infested
LAMB CHOPS AND CHAINSAWS Vol. 1
LOBSTERS AND LANDMINES Vol. 2
THE DEVILS HARVEST
THE GATEWAY (World One)
PARKINGDOM
WAR OF THE GODS
(Part One) THE DEVILS TAROTS
THE SPELL OF BINDING (Part One)
Also available from Sinuous Mind Books
For the latest news and updates about Glen Johnson, visit www.sinuousmindbooks.com
THE SIXTH EXTINCTION
An Apocalyptic Tale of Survival
Part Two: Ruin
A pandemic has swept the globe, decimating humanity, affecting all who breathe in its deadly spores. The Sixth Extinction Series follows a collection of people from all walks of life, as they struggle to survive through the eradication of the human race.
Doctor Melanie Lazaro identified the marker of the disease on the human DNA chain, and she carries a file with the information needed to create a blocker, to stop the disease from spreading. While she was being shown the four different stages of the transformation of the human host, the building came under attack by a horde of the infected. During the attack, she was rescued and placed on a helicopter en route to the Dartmoor military base. The helicopter crashed and Lazaro, along with nine military personnel, has to take shelter in a dentist’s clinic, while fighting back a mass of the infected. They gain new transportation; however, it proves to be a fatal mistake.
Noah and Red join forces with an old woman called Betty, and her special need’s grandson, Lennie. The four of them hear the gunfire of the soldiers from the crashed helicopter, and Noah leaves the three behind in a house while he goes in search of rescue. However, not everything goes according to plan, and he finds himself in the wrong place at the worst possible time.
Due to the timeline, the whole country is now overrun with stage three eaters – crazed, animalistic predators that only have one thing on their mind – to eat.
LAMB CHOPS AND CHAINSAWS (Vol.1)
Nine Disturbing Short Stories about the Darker Side of Human Nature
What are your neighbours really like once their front door slams shut? Are your children’s teachers’ sound-of-mind? Has your partner got an evil, sinister side? Is a member of your family a murderer? These questions, and more, are examined in a collection of nine disturbing short stories; tales about the darker side of human nature.
Read about a wannabe serial killer who starts his reign of terror on the wrong footing. A Kindergarten teacher who has deep psychological problems that jeopard
izes the safety of the children. How a child of nine turns to violence in retaliation for drug smugglers slaughtering her parents. A fanatical mother who believes her thirteen-year-old son is possessed by the Devil. How one killer spirals out of control and in his haste for victims makes a fatal mistake. A government trained killer who was set up as a scapegoat. Or a serial killer who has captured the attention of the world, and has setup one final, sickening display. What does it take to push someone that little bit too far and turn them into a killer? Find out when a savage murder is committed over a packet of lamb chops.
Strangers will never seem the same again.
LOBSTERS AND LANDMINES (Vol.2)
Another Nine Disturbing Short Stories about the Darker Side of Human Nature
Lobsters and Landmines is the second book in the Human Nature Series, following in Lamb Chops and Chainsaws footsteps, by continuing to look at the darker side of human nature, by delving into the dark twisted world of the sick minded, the perverse, the psychos and sociopaths; people who take pleasure from hurting others. Individuals, who could be your next door neighbour or your lover, even a close family member.
Read about a Captain who discovers the perfect lobster bait after a violent outburst. A HIV infected man who injects women with his tainted blood. A disfigured ex-army bomb disposal expert who has carved out a piece of paradise for himself in Vietnam, who keeps females as slaves and children as objects to sell. Or the sad story about two friends who are forever parted on September 11th 2001. And the airhostess Jenny who finds the perfect job on a Brazilian airline, but it seems they want more from her than most employers. What about the sweet little old lady who wins awards for her cakes, but what are her secret ingredients? Or the doomsday prepper that spends every waking minute of everyday prepping for the end of the world, until one critical mistake changes everything. Or a computer firm that sells its algorithmic computations to cosmetic firms, cutting out the need to test on animals, but below ground, the vast computer server hosts a disturbing secret. Finally, a businessman who realizes a little too late, what is truly important in life?
The Sixth Extinction 1: An Apocalyptic Tale of Survival. (Part One: Outbreak.) Page 7