Zombie Dust: An Extreme Horror Novel

by Jubilee Savage

  "That's enough," Marcy said. "Hold your big brother's hand. We're going back home." Her heart beat faster. She could feel it all the way through her fingertips. All around her, everything was red.

  She fought the urge to scream as she got her four children - five with the one in her arms - turned around and facing the same door they'd entered. "Let's go. Let's go. Let's go," she said. "Hold hands with your brother. Don't stop to tie your shoe. I'll fix it in the car."

  They walked at a pace that would have worked well with a funeral procession. Marcy kept her head down, watching her children's shoes squelching through the blood and muck on the floor.

  She tried to get them to move faster, but they were hot and tired and moving with the speed of refrigerated molasses. The teens were still arguing.

  The lights flickered once and went out. A loud buzzing sound filled the hallway.

  Marcy kept her children marching toward the sunlight that filtered through the automatic doors, which were closed. She wondered whether the doors were operable with the electricity out; she doubted it, but she wasn't above tossing a chair through the glass if that's what it took.

  When they were so close that they could see the parking lot through the glass, something lurched into the space between them and the exit. It was unsteady and low to the ground, and it left a dark trail behind it as it moved.

  Marcy took one look at the dark shape against the brightness of the sun shining through the automatic doors and screamed. For a brief moment, she thought the thing was a big dog or some other type of animal.

  "Back up slowly," she said as she tried to keep the panic from rising in her voice. "Don't make any sudden movements."

  The lights came back on, and the automatic door slid open on its tracks, but Marcy and her children couldn't leave without passing that thing in their path. With a start, Marcy realized that it wasn't an animal but a man, and he was wearing a police uniform.

  She took a step forward. It was obvious to her that he was in distress. "Officer, what happened?" Marcy asked. "What—?" She saw the blood on his clothes, dark on dark, and the oozing stump where the bottom of his leg should be and stopped walking.

  "Are you okay?" She took one step forward and two steps back.

  He didn't answer. Instead he turned toward her, on hands and knees, foaming at the mouth with froth the color of charcoal.

  She took another step backward. "You're not okay," she said. "What happened to you? What happened in this place?" Her voice rose, and she could tell she was close to panic.

  He crawled toward her, moving a little bit faster now that he could smell she was exactly what he wanted. His hands slipped on the bloody floor, slowing him down barely enough for Marcy to jump backwards out of the way while clutching her feverish baby in her arms.

  She hit the floor hard, and the baby started to cry. The infant gasped and wailed like it was being slaughtered.

  "Please," Marcy said. "Not now. For the love of God, not now." She bounced the baby against her chest while kicking one foot out to hold the dead cop at bay. "No. No. No," she said. "Kids, stay behind me." She looked behind her.

  Her children weren't even there.

  Marcy kicked the cop in the face again and yelped as she felt and saw his hand latch onto her ankle like a claw. She continued kicking out blindly while she turned her head from side to side looking for her other four children.

  "Annabelle, Cody, Roger, June," she shouted, "where are you?" She pressed the screaming baby's face into her chest. "For the love of God, stop screaming," she said.

  Pushing with her feet, sliding backward on her ass through blood the consistency of cold mud and kicking out with her feet while holding onto a squirming, squealing child proved to be too much for Marcy.

  She fell onto her back, and the cop crawled atop her supine body, pinning the wailing baby between their chests. His mouth came down on hers, teeth seeking flesh, and she punched him hard in the nose.

  "You bit my lip," she screamed, pushing him off her. "Annabelle, come on. We have to go. Get your brothers. Get your sister."

  She scurried away from the advances of the cop, the baby held tightly to her chest. Suddenly she realized something. The baby had stopped screaming.

  Marcy held the baby away from her and took a good, hard look. "Oh my God, what's happening?"

  She could taste the copper tang of blood in her mouth where the cop had bitten her lip.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Father Matthew rubbed his head and moaned.

  "I can't kill you when the time is right because there is never a good time to kill another human being," he said. "I know that you- that you did what you did, and you … ate what you ate, and I know that you took lives to sustain your own, and I won't judge you."

  Audrey stared at him blankly, giving no indication that she understood his words, but he knew instinctively that she did.

  "I can't judge you," the priest continued. "Only God can judge you now. Only God can save you now. Only God can save me now. Only God can save us now. Only God." He fell silent as he realized that he was beginning to babble.

  Audrey didn't move. She didn't make a sound. Slowly, slowly, deliberately and with obvious effort, she turned back to the dry erase board on which she'd written. She pointed at the words.

  WHEN THE TIME IS RIGHT

  Father Matthew lowered his body slowly to the cold, cold floor of the hospital morgue. He could hear the frantic sounds of flesh against metal as the contents of several of the drawers banged around, trying to get out.

  He knew that things were already out of control, and he was more than a little afraid of what might happen next. "I can't kill you. Not now. Not ever," he said. He closed his eyes. "Please don't ask me again."

  When he opened his eyes, Audrey was making the shape of a gun with her fingers again, pointing her pointer finger and middle finger against her temple and mimicking pulling the trigger with her thumb.

  She pointed at the dry erase board.

  NOT NOW

  WHEN THE TIME IS RIGHT

  Father Matthew groaned. "Audrey," he said. "I don't even have a gun. Where do you expect me to find a gun in a hospital?"

  She shrugged and repeated the motions. Fingers against temple. Thumb against imaginary trigger.

  "Fine," the priest said. "When the time is right, I'll murder you in cold blood. Is that what you wanted to hear?" He ran his hands through his hair. "I'll find a gun somewhere in a hospital, and I'll shoot you in the head, when the time is right. Are you happy now?"

  Audrey appeared satisfied. She dropped her hand from beside her head and nodded.

  Father Matthew didn't move from his place on the floor.

  Audrey pointed again. This time, she pointed at the door that led the way out of the morgue. She tilted her head to one side as if asking a question.

  "I know. I know," the priest said. "We came here for a reason." He sighed. "I'm getting up now. Let's go see if we can find that woman and her children. If things are even a fraction as bad as I think they are, they're going to need a lot of help."

  Audrey moved toward the door, but she stopped when she reached the seated priest. Silently, she held out her hand and helped him to his feet.

  He grimaced in pain and clutched his ribs. "I am in so much trouble," he gasped. "What do you think are the chances we'll find a living, breathing doctor in this place who can take a look at my injuries?"

  Audrey shrugged. She resumed moving toward the door and put her hand on the knob before turning around to check his progress.

  "I'm coming," he said. "Let's go find that lady and her kids."

  Audrey opened the door, and they stepped back into the hallway. It was quiet and deserted, and it made the priest more than a little uneasy.

  "I don't understand why there isn't anyone around," he said. "I'm not complaining, but I thought there would be a lot more people in the halls. Where did everybody go?"

  Audrey didn't bother to shrug this time. She didn't even both
er to look at him. Instead, she just led the way to the stairwell and opened the door, waiting for him to follow her through it.

  They reached the main floor and exited into the lobby. "We're on the other side of the hospital from the emergency room entrance, I think," the priest said. "We're here." He pointed at his feet. "The emergency room entrance is over there." He pointed down a long corridor.

  Audrey didn't make an attempt to answer.

  "So I guess we need to head in that direction." He took a few steps, and Audrey followed. Their feet slipped on spilled blood, black ash and discarded trash.

  Father Matthew tried not to focus on any single object in his path. He tried not to notice an abandoned teddy bear soaked in blood, an empty baby carriage that was overturned and missing its occupant. He tried not to wonder about the owner of that stuffed animal or the occupant of that carriage. He tried to focus on putting one foot in front of the other.

  Halfway down the hallway, Audrey changed positions with the priest. She pulled a few steps ahead of him as if putting herself between him and possible danger.

  His head swiveled from left to right with every step, peering into open doors and wondering what lay behind closed ones.

  Audrey never turned her head.

  It was a matter of mere minutes before they reached the end of the corridor. By the time they got to the emergency room, the squelching refuse beneath their feet was ankle deep at its lowest points.

  Even though Father Matthew trailed a step behind, he was the one who spotted the ruins of Officer Fitzpatrick first. "Audrey, stop," he said in a loud whisper. "It isn't safe."

  Audrey locked eyes with the cop and picked up the pace.

  Clutching his aching ribs, the priest tried to keep up with her.

  The cop was in the same position on the floor where he'd landed after Marcy had pushed him off her. A dazed expression was on his face.

  He saw Audrey approaching, but he didn't move until he saw Father Matthew behind her. Officer Fitzpatrick rolled onto his stomach and got the palms of both hands flat against the floor, but he failed to raise himself to his single remaining foot.

  The cop had forgotten the lesson he'd learned back in the operating room. One doesn't attempt to stand on two feet when one of those feet is missing. After several failed attempts, he resumed the crawl that had brought him to the emergency room entrance in the first place.

  Slowly, steadily and with dogged determination, he drew closer to Audrey, but he only had eyes for her priest. He reached Audrey's blood-soaked sneakers and pushed one hand forward to take his next "step."

  Audrey lifted one foot and stomped down hard on the cop's hand.

  He didn't even flinch. Instead, he brought his other hand forward and followed it by shuffling both knees through the coagulated muck on the floor, but that's as far as he got.

  Pinned by one hand, Officer Fitzpatrick could do nothing more than squirm in place, leaking blood-black goo from the open wound where his lower left leg should be. He opened his mouth in a silent scream and tugged his trapped hand as hard as he could.

  Audrey ground her foot down harder, breaking the bones in his hand. She didn't relent even as his snapping teeth drew closer to her calf. Instinctively, she knew he wouldn't bite her. She wasn't his type.

  His appetite was as specific as her own. Their hunger could be satisfied only by flesh from a person with a beating heart, which reminded her of something.

  Audrey was hungry again.

  Father Matthew stepped forward. His legs came precariously close to the cop's mouth as he tried to move Audrey away from what he perceived as danger.

  At the last moment, Audrey forcefully pushed the priest backward hard enough to make him fall on his backside. She glared at him and held out one hand. Stop.

  The dead cop's teeth snapped shut where his intended target's flesh had been seconds earlier. He looked more disturbed at losing his snack than having the bones of his hand broken beneath Audrey's foot.

  Audrey, the cop and Father Matthew all looked up at the same time when they heard a woman scream. It was Marcy.

  She was huddled on the floor, cradling her baby. She screamed again. "Please help me," she sobbed. "I have to find my other children."

  Audrey reached down and wrapped her hands around Officer Fitzpatrick's neck. She squeezed harder and harder until she felt something pop beneath her fingers.

  No one made any effort to stop her.

  With the threat neutralized, Audrey removed her foot from the back of the cop's broken hand and took a step toward Marcy.

  Marcy looked at Audrey as if seeing her for the first time, which wasn't far from the truth. The look of horror on Marcy's face showed the moment she noticed Audrey's paper-white skin, dull eyes and scaly lips. She clutched her baby more tightly to her chest.

  "Audrey," Father Matthew said. "Please stop, please." He didn't try to restrain her physically; he knew he was no match for her strength. "Audrey, I know there's goodness deep inside you. I know the scared young woman who came into my church seeking God lies within."

  His companion continued her slow journey closer and closer to the other woman, who was wailing like a siren.

  "Audrey," Father Matthew said, louder this time. "Stop for the love of God. Don't take another step toward that woman. Just don't." His voice quavered. He didn't know what to do.

  She turned around and looked at him before closing the gap between herself and Marcy, who had stopped screaming in exchange for hyperventilating in strangled gasps.

  To the priest's surprise, Audrey took the woman by her upper arms, careful not to disturb her grip on the child, and lifted her easily to her feet. She patted the woman awkwardly on the head and repeated the motion on the baby before looking to the priest for approval.

  "Very good, Audrey," Father Matthew said. "Thank you."

  She returned to his side.

  "What happened to her?" Marcy asked. "She looks like death walking."

  "It's been a long day," the priest said. "Did you say something about missing children?"

  "I came here with the baby and my four older kids. Two of them are teenagers, and they're used to being alone sometimes, but … "

  "You're worried. I don't blame you." The priest decided not to mention the pools, puddles, streaks and smears of blood that were everywhere he looked; he didn't think she looked bothered by the death of the cop whose neck Audrey had broken with her bare hands. He thought she might be in shock. "Don't worry. We'll help you find your children."

  He looked over his shoulder at Audrey. Her appearance was like something from a horror movie. Blood and gore, ill-fitting clothes, paper-white skin beneath crimson and black streaks, chest not rising and falling with her breathing, heart not beating.

  Father Matthew was only guessing about that last part, but he was confident that it was true. He didn't know when things had changed. He didn't know when Audrey had changed. He only knew that she had changed, and he was afraid that she was still changing, and he was afraid that he didn't know what she was changing into, but he was also afraid that he did.

  "Audrey, are you okay?" Father Matthew asked.

  She didn't respond. Her expression didn't change.

  "Will you be able to help this woman find her children while making sure no harm comes to her?"

  Audrey's face remained expressionless.

  "I'm counting on you," he said.

  Slowly, stiffly, she nodded her head. She walked to Marcy and extended her hand.

  Marcy eyed Audrey suspiciously, but she allowed the other woman to take her by the hand. "You're so cold," Marcy said. "Why is your hand so cold?" She turned to the priest. "Why is her hand so cold?"

  "I don't know," Father Matthew replied. He cleared his throat and looked away. "I'm not sure."

  "Will you hold my baby?" Marcy asked.

  This time, it was Father Matthew's turn to nod his head. He took the baby from Marcy's grasp and cradled the child in his arms without comment.

&nb
sp; Audrey turned around until she was facing the way they'd arrived. With a gentle tug, she got Marcy moving down the corridor.

  The two women walked through the spilled blood and various discarded items that lay on the floor. Father Matthew trailed behind with the baby pressed to his chest. He nearly sobbed when they passed the blood-soaked teddy bear, which was turning black, and the overturned baby carriage.

  He thought the whole ordeal was getting to be too much for him to handle.

  They reached the stairwell. Audrey reached out to open the door with her free hand, but the metal handle slipped from her fingers and the door slid shut.

  "I'll get it," Marcy whispered. She pulled the door open and the three of them entered the stairwell. As they descended the stairs, the only sounds were their footsteps echoing with every step.

  The sound made Father Matthew wince. He still didn't know whether the very people they needed to avoid were attracted to sound. It was becoming more difficult to think of them as people, but he knew they had to keep their distance whatever they were.

  Not being able to hear anything over the echoes of their footsteps was frustrating. Anxiety built in his chest. He felt like he was about to explode. Prayers he'd learned as an altar boy repeated themselves in his head over and over. The words grew faster with each repetition.

  Our Father who art in Heaven, hallowed be thy name.

  Thy Kingdom come.

  Thy will be done on Earth as it is in Heaven.

  Give us this day our daily bread.

  Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us.

  Lead us not into temptation.

  Deliver us from evil.

  Amen.

  Our Father who art in Heaven, hallowed be thy name. Thy Kingdom come. Thy will be done on Earth as it is in Heaven. Give us this day our daily bread. Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us. Lead us not into temptation. Deliver us from evil.

  Amen.

  Our Father who art in Heaven, hallowed be thy name, thy Kingdom come, thy will be done on Earth as it is in Heaven, give us this day our daily bread, forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us, lead us not into temptation, deliver us from evil.