Clifton Falls

by L A Taylor

  “What the hell is up with this door?” he shouted.

  He put more force into his attempt and although it moved very sluggishly, the door did manage to reach the halfway stage before sticking again. Gary placed his head around the corner of the stubborn object and stared at the mutilated corpse spread out on the floor. His first reaction was that one of the recently deceased bodies had fallen off a table, but was puzzled that the corpse was over by the door. Then he noticed the unclothed, eerie looking creatures standing in the corner, watching his every move like three, naughty school-kids.

  “Shit me guys, you startled me.” It took a few heavy, heartpounding seconds before Gary regained a steadier breathing rhythm. He now glared at one of the monsters. “You’re the guy who was brought in earlier, but I saw you die, so what’s going on here?” he hollered. He attempted to locate Colin, but his nervous eyes couldn’t see him anywhere. “Colin, where are you?”

  There was no reply. Gary’s heart beat faster, but the quicker it pumped, the more sweat leaked out of his pores. He turned back, facing the half-eaten corpse, clicking on to the fact that this wasn’t one of the bodies brought in earlier.

  Colin wouldn’t dump a body by the door and then fuck off. Where was he?

  This thought flashed around inside Gary’s head until it suddenly hit him, the guy on the ground had to be Colin. (Well it was obvious. The tag with his name on it was still attached to the clothing). Gary was faced with a deadly serious situation. On any other day he would be eminently sick after seeing one of his fellow colleague’s massacred body, but not today, well not yet.

  The zombies remained staring at him, but now produced peculiar groaning sounds. These terrible, ear-piercing moans were going to scare Gary into doing something rash if he wasn’t careful.

  Suddenly he giggled. It wasn’t because of nerves or because the sight of the distorted, strange beings with blood sticking to their skin made him laugh, in fact it was all down to what he was listening to on his phone. It was the music of the great legend, the legend they call Michael Jackson. The events he now faced reminded him of the songs. Firstly there was blood everywhere, and one of the tracks was titled ‘Blood on the Dance Floor’. The other song that made him snigger was ‘Thriller’. The zombies especially reminded him of that particular track. What a strange thing to be thinking about when faced with death.

  Gary became overexcited with inquisitiveness and needed to find out whether these monsters would act like the ones in the original video.

  My God, that would be an awesome sight to see, he thought, sniggering to himself.

  The zombies acted like statues, but he sensed they were watching his every move. They slowly positioned themselves, and dead Frank stood in front of the other two. This reaction forced Gary to act with more caution as he removed the I-phone from the top pocket of his work uniform. He then pulled out the headset cable and frantically scanned through his songs to find the right one. He did this while staring at the zombies and so the chosen song turned out to be the un-chosen one. The song that now played was that nice one about the rat. The freaks screamed at him and seemed not impressed by what they heard.

  They sluggishly moved toward him as he fumbled to find the right song. He knew he would have to shift his arse soon or risk being the second course on their food menu, but the closer they were to him, the harder it was to locate the right track. “Come on, Come on. Where are you?”

  Closer and closer they came. Gary could now smell their toxic breath lingering beneath his nostrils as he flicked down the song list. A glorious sound could be heard, and Gary smiled as the words, ‘Well this is thriller, thriller’, were being sung. The zombies stopped their vicious-like approach and moved in time to the beat of the music. His plan worked, the song made them dance. He clapped out loud, laughing at this funny sight as the walking dead shook and swayed their bodies just like the zombies did in the original video.

  Gary rubbed his eyes and snapped out of his daydream. The monsters weren’t dancing and he hadn’t put the ‘Thriller’ song on. It was imaginary. He was in the same position as before. There was him and there were these three, naked, dead guys.

  The walking dead headed in his direction. Gary turned to run away but slipped on a puddle of thick blood. He tried to get up, but kept sliding on the wet, slippery floor. The creatures closed in even more. Gary cried out for help. “Help me someone, anyone.”

  The enemy were right on top of him. Gary knew he would have to remove his sticky, re-coloured trainers in order to stand up properly, and needed to do this now.

  The petrified man reversed out the door on his backside, hoping to gain some distance so could un-tie the laces. He raced along the corridor until he was about fifty feet in front of the still following unknowns. He began to untie the black pieces of fabric while flicking his eyes from the zombies to his footwear, but the poor, shivering, and sweating man struggled to do this simple manoeuvre. One of the laces was knotted up and became a struggle to undo, as the creatures closed to about forty feet.

  The slobbering fiends gained another ten feet before Gary kicked off the loosened trainer and now concentrated on the difficult one. He knew there was no time to fiddle with the lace when there were maniacs after him, so the only thing left to do was to pull the heel of the trainer away from his foot.

  The monsters closed in even more. Gary lifted his leg, gripping the heel. He yanked hard until the blood-drenched piece of footwear flew through the air. It bounced off Vincent’s head, knocking the zombie off course until it walked into a wall and fell over. Gary took this opportunity to lift himself off the floor before running for the nearest exit point. As he did this, the I-phone flew out of his pocket, landing next to the fallen monster. Gary didn’t look back to see where it was, nor did he look back at the zombies; he was running for his life. The zombie corpse of Vincent heard the phone fall and located its whereabouts. With dead fingers, the zombie scrawled down the tunes and pressed the play button. The last thing Gary heard was the ‘Thriller’ song as he made distance between himself and the now dancing for real this time, freaks. All three corpses acted like they were in a dance competition rather than being man eating monsters, but were soon back to looking scary once the song finished playing.

  The demon-like creatures could now smell the freshness of human aroma in the air. This scent was going to be used as a key in finding others just like Gary. They followed the recent path along the hallway, moving closer and closer to what could be described as hunting season, or Christmas. Either choice meant a meal or two. A few minutes later and they were stuck. There were two routes of exit for them to take. One was the elevator, but that surely would cause a few problems. The other was the stairs. The ex-lorry driver stood with mouth wide open, studying the options. The disfigured, discoloured expression on its face indicated that it wasn’t looking pleased to be in this situation.

  EIGHTEEN

  Julie saw Gary staggering out of the main door that led to the morgue, so helped him to a seat inside the waiting room before finding Hazel. She had just finished doing her rounds when a breathless Julie appeared in front of her.

  “I need you to come with me now. Gary’s not well,” Julie gasped.

  “Hey, Julie, calm down and take a deep blast of air.” Hazel held the young nurse’s arm as she breathed in deeply. “Now tell me again what you just said, but slower.”

  Julie controlled her emotions and explained what’d just taken place. Hazel was surprised to see Gary in a traumatised state when she reached him because he’d been fine when she’d spoken to him about half an hour ago. All Gary could see in his mind was the sight of those evil beings, and now looked like a petrified, lost, little boy. He wanted to shut his eyes and sink deeply into another one of those daydreams, but he’d no chance of achieving it. Hazel sat next to him. “Talk to me, Gary. Tell me what’s wrong. Are you in pain?” She glanced down, noticing his footwear was missing. “Where are your trainers? Where’d you leave them?”


  Gary let out a distraught stare whilst pointing toward the door. The reality kicked in and he burst out crying. Thick, fast tears now streamed down the sides of his face.

  “Look, I can’t help you unless you talk to me,” Hazel said.

  An unexpected burst of shouting spilled out of Gary’s mouth. “Don’t let anybody go to the morgue. The dead have come back to life again and they killed Colin. They’ll kill us all if they escape.”

  The speech rushed from his lips, but the impact frightened the women. Julie seemed more affected, but Hazel had her own assumptions on Gary’s state of mind. Her first reaction being a drug related one.

  “What are you trying to tell me?” she said, shaking him. “Colin’s dead. Is that what you’re telling me?”

  Gary didn’t answer back for at least ten seconds.

  “Promise me…you won’t…go…down there,” he stuttered. He grabbed onto Hazel’s arm with a strangle-like strength and would end up hurting her if he didn’t let go.

  “I promise I won’t go there, but I need you to tell me more about what you saw.”

  The words messed with his emotions and the stress from his lucky escape was now too much for his body to deal with. He fainted. Hazel released her arm and looked over at Julie.

  What’s he going on about? And were there dead bodies roaming around inside the morgue? she wondered.

  Julie helped her lie Gary down on a small sofa that was situated nearby.

  The final answer on Colin’s condition was still unknown, but both women would be stupid to go down to the morgue to find out. Hazel didn’t know what was going on, but knew Gary would be out of a job if he was on drugs. She couldn’t get anything out of him at this time so had no choice but to inform the police about this. She might regret it and look as stupid as a penguin wearing a dress, but it needed to be done.

  Julie was given the task of phoning the police while Hazel thought of other important issues. The young nurse rang the station and spoke to George. “One of our workers reckons there’s dead people come to life down in the morgue and they may’ve murdered someone.”

  George burst out laughing. This information was too silly for him to take seriously. He shouted over to Wayne and repeated what he heard, but the sergeant didn’t react in the same way; instead, was stunned by the news. Blake was still at the station and George’s stupidity had probably blown it for Wayne’s latest story about the deaths of the Smythes, but luckily, Blake wasn’t listening in on the conversation. Wayne glared at George, and if he was Medusa from Clash of the Titans then George would’ve been turned to stone. The old officer sheepishly handed over the receiver, then joined Blake as Wayne apologised to the worried caller. “Tell me what happened?”

  “Gary told Hazel that dead people were walking around in the morgue. She’s worried because he’s collapsed. What do we do?”

  Wayne knew that Mike wasn’t around so he had to act like the chief and be professional over this.

  “Keep the area around the morgue clear and don’t let anybody go down there. I’m coming over to check it out.”

  Another member of staff headed for the same door that led to the gruesome and twisted figures as the nurses discussed the situation. He opened it and slipped past. His name was Clive. He was a young college student with long, greasy, dark hair. He’d been working part-time in the Pathology Department for a few weeks. It fitted in nicely to his routine, as he studied during the day.

  He walked along the corridor, entered the lift and closed the large, metal shutters, but the screeching noise triggered the recently immobile creatures into action and they were on the move again. Clive was on his way to the morgue to drop off some blood samples for Colin, but the zombies smelt his arrival long before he arrived.

  The nineteen year old sensed something wasn’t quite right as soon as he exited the lift.

  Why are there bloody footprints everywhere? he wondered.

  He continued, thinking someone might be playing a trick on him, so walked to the main entrance with a cheeky smile, ready to surprise the practical joker. He waited for something to happen, but nothing did. There was a turning coming up and it was there that he thought the prankster would be waiting for him.

  He neared the corner with a tiptoeing approach, sucked up enough air to produce an explosive roar, then jumped out shouting: “YAAAAAAAAHHHH.”

  In front of him stood three, un-dead humans. The recent attempt at scaring now backfired, as the poor man was left stricken with an attack of fear swallowing up his body movements.

  Vincent was only three feet away from Clive when the scream came, and it sent a ringing through the dead man’s eardrums, confusing it. “YAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH,” the reply came from the copycat zombie who still had Gary’s I-phone in its hands.

  Clive dropped the blood samples. The eager strangers watched the red liquid splash at different angles as the test tubes crashed to the floor. One of the zombies rubbed a finger over the escaped juice and slowly entered the grotesque digit into its mouth. The tingling, sweet aftertaste began again and the hunger button was switched back on.

  They moved closer to Clive, but couldn’t grab him. He was numb to speak, but was able to think. Vincent now blocked the route that he came from, so the safest place was the morgue room.

  Clive slipped passed the slow beings and entered the chosen room, closing the door on the strangers once he was inside. Clive, now agitated, searched for something heavy to jam against the door, but had no chance of attempting this without the zombies getting in, so, sat and pushed his back against it, hoping his bodyweight would be enough to stop the trio of filth from entering. The zombies slammed hard against the wooden obstacle. It hurt Clive, and he didn’t like this one single bit. Crazed, sadistic groaning sounds slipped underneath the crack of the door, penetrating the shaking man’s breathing pattern. It was evident that these beasts weren’t going to give up easily.

  Clive was too involved in finding a way of stopping the zombies from smashing the door against his back to notice what was on the ground next to him. He slowly looked down to witness a sticky puddle of blood surrounding him, and the seat of his trousers became damp.

  He now stared in the direction of Colin’s work desk and seriously contemplated on rushing over to use the phone, but the only thing stopping him was the fear of moving.

  The chewed up body twitched. The virus had taken effect, waking it again. The twisted shape moved its head from side to side, snapping teeth together as it did so. Clive desperately tried kicking out at the latest member of the freak show, but struggled to maintain full control and stop the others from sneaking in.

  The zombie grabbed his right ankle, using the body-part in an attempt to close in on him. This movement caused Clive to sway his attention away from blocking the door and the ugly monstrosity now became top priority.

  “What the hell are you doing with my leg?” he shouted, trying to shake off the beast.

  Clive clenched a fist, and with no time to think, punched the head of the creature a few times. The pounding motion forced it to release the grip. His next move was to push his footwear into the face of the awkward pest. If this creature could still read then it would see the shoe-maker’s symbol just before the foot crashed against its forehead. The zombie rolled across the room as the kick cracked its jaw. The door opened slightly. The power of the three corpses was too much for this one man to hold off now, so Clive needed a fast plan.

  He scanned the area for an escape route, spotting an extremely large, white sheet covering one of the tables, the ends touching the floor on all sides. He manoeuvred away from the danger-zone and hid under it. He now watched the blackened shadows of the unclothed zombies from beneath the cloth barrier as they walked back into the room. Clive listened closely to the shuffling noises of their movements and the growls that escaped their mouths, so sussed that they were communicating with each other, but gulped nervously after spotting a bloodline leading to his hiding place. He’d left behind a bum-shaped, crims
on coloured pattern on the tiles, but so far, the creatures hadn’t noticed.

  He had the perfect opportunity to make his escape now they were back inside, so raced out from under the table, catching the zombies off guard. Clive shot past them and neared the door, but un-noticed by him, the pain in the arse, chopped up zombie had reached out, gripping onto one of his shoes. This time he wasn’t so lucky. He fell backwards, cracking his head against the floor and completely knocking himself out. It must’ve been another minute before he re-opened his eyelids. His head throbbed. It felt like someone was drilling inside his brain, but he was able to see. He knew he should move, but couldn’t do it. His legs wouldn’t respond to his commands.

  Clive witnessed two figures sitting either side of him, and they seemed to be eating some kind of meat.

  The canteen wasn’t open until the morning, so how did they get this food? he thought.

  Clive’s eyesight drifted to the area around his legs as puddles of blood formed. It didn’t belong to any of the creatures. The shock from the bump on the head had placed his body in a mild state of temporary paralysis, but now the pain was on its way. These monsters tore, bit, and ate the flesh from his limbs while he bellowed from the excruciating, sickening throbbing. The noises produced echoed along the hallways until drifting to the upper part of the hospital.

  Wayne entered the building, closely followed by Jason. He was looking forward to wiping out some of the creatures behind Nash’s death. They timed it just right as the torturing squeals were still faintly heard.

  Hazel and Julie rushed out of the waiting room to meet up with the officers. “Did you hear the screaming?” Hazel nervously asked.

  “I think everyone in the hospital heard it.” Wayne wasn’t impressed to hear that someone else had been attacked. “I told Julie to make sure no one went down to the morgue.”

  The young nurse raised a hand. “I’m Julie, and I don’t know why anyone else went down there.” She was determined to stick up for herself but knew she was partly to blame for what happened. “I placed a sign on the door and I’ve been keeping an eye on it.”