The Demon Dead (Book 2): Troubled Waters
Page 7
They moved a table over to the wall and climbed to the other side. Derek was the last one over. Before he jumped down he looked back at the gate. The zombies were clamoring for position. Arms groping through the wrought iron. He thought seriously about taking another shot or two but decided not.
“Fire discipline,” he said under his breath.
With John leading they made their way to pebble paved Chalmers Street. As they walked into the street the church bell rang again. Much louder this time. The top of the church’s steeple was visible through the trees. They could finally see their destination and, they hoped, sanctuary.
Across the street was an alley that led directly to Broad Street. And from there, only one hundred yards to the right, was Saint Michaels.
“Lets go,” John said. “Straight shot to Broad Street. No gates or walls.”
They walked as fast as they could passing between houses along the way. Finally reaching Broad Street, John stepped onto the sidewalk and stopped abruptly. The others piled into the back of him.
“Whoa,” he said catching his balance after being run into by Amy.
“This way,” he said walking toward the church.
The others followed.
“Stay close together,” Derek said. “and don’t...”
His words were interrupted by a scream from behind. He turned to see one of the demon dead rush from the alley and turn toward them. Before any of them could react three shots rang out. The demon fell to the ground. Shot through the top of the head. They turned to see where the shot came from.
“Up there,” Shanna said pointing to two figures. “In the Church bell tower.”
Amy looked up. “Oh my God,” she said. “That looks like Mike and Jane.”
She waved at them.
“Lets go,” Derek said. “Move!”
The church sat eighty yards ahead, directly on the street on the corner of Meeting and Broad. They were approaching from the left rear. The left side ran along Broad Street. The front of the church was on Meeting Street. There were four large white columns in front. Each within inches of the street. The first floor was level with the sidewalk. There were two twelve foot high large wooden doors at the main entrance.
The main structure was two stories high with seven large windows along the side. Inside the sanctuary was open with two balcony levels. One on each side running the length of the church front to back.
The steeple and bell tower rose one hundred and ninety three feet above the street. The first level above the roof line was square. The next three had eight sides. Each higher level being smaller than the one below.
The bells were housed on the second level of the four level tower. The third level had a balcony that circled the tower with the fourth level just under the steeple being open on all sides. This gave full view of the city in all directions. The steeple was topped by a golden ball and large weather vane.
The left side of the church, which the group was approaching, sat only sidewalk distance away from the street.
There was a courtyard and cemetery at the rear and along the right side. This area was enclosed by an eight foot rock wall. There was a gate at the left rear and another at the right front.
After covering half the distance the gate swung open and a man stepped out onto the sidewalk. They stopped abruptly. John raised his weapon.
“Don’t shoot,” the man screamed.
“Oh my God,” Amy said. “It’s the rector. He’s alive.”
They closed the distance quickly. The rector grinned broadly as they neared. John stuck his hand out. Rector Phinney gripped it tightly as he shook.
“I’m very saddened and very happy to see you,” the Rector said.
“Believe me,” John said. “I understand. I’m glad to see you’re alive but we would rather not be here.”
Amy stepped forward and shook his hand. “This is Derek and Jimmy,” she said pointing to each one. “They were the two waiting for us on the boat the last time we saw you. And this is Shanna. The newest member of the group.”
“You’ve added one,” the Rector said shaking all their hands. “Navy?”
“Yep,” John said. “Long story.”
“Lets get inside,” the Rector said. “It’s not safe out here.”
“Tell me about it,” Shanna said.
They entered the church grounds and closed and locked the gate behind them.
Rector Phinney turned to them. “It’s not ideal but it’s kept us safe so far,” he said.
“I guess by us you mean, Mike and Jane?” Amy said. “We were surprised to see they were still alive.”
The rector grinned. “They’re not,” he said.
“What do you mean they’re not?” Amy asked.
“I mean,” he said. “That they are dead. As a doorknob...”
“Wow...” Amy was stunned.
“I suppose they’re like your gomers kind of,” the Rector said.
“But gomers can’t shoot guns,” Derek said stepping forward. “Much less aim at and hit whatever they’re shooting at.”
“Well, maybe this is a different kind of gomer,” the Rector said. “I’ve seen the other gomers. They aren’t like them. Higher functioning I guess you might say.”
Amy looked at John. “Like the one at the pottery shop,” she said.
“You’ve seen one?” The Rector said.
“Yes,” Amy said. “It helped us.”
“I’d love to hear the story but we need to get inside,” the Rector said.
He turned toward the back corner of the church. They were led over to a rope ladder hanging down from a ledge.
“This is the only way in or out,” the Rector said holding the ladder. “I have all the other entrances blocked. Ladies first,” he said gesturing for Shanna to go up.
“I don’t need special treatment because I’m a woman,” Shanna said.
“You’re in the South now my dear,” the Rector answered. “We still say Mam, hold the door for the ladies and make no apologies for it. Sorry...”
“That’s ok,” Shanna said. “I’ll go last.”
“No...” Derek said. “I go last... Sorry.”
“What if I don’t want to accept that?” Shanna said.
“Look,” Amy said. “If you want to stay alive you need to swallow your pride and listen to these guys. Derek just wants to make sure we’re all up safely before he goes. Is that so hard to understand.”
They stared at each other for a moment.
“The Rector can go first,” Shanna said . “Then he can help you and Jimmy.”
Derek looked at John and rolled his eyes.
The Rector nodded and climbed up the ladder. At the top there was a four foot wide ledge. The entrance to the church sanctuary being a large window with a rounded top. More than enough space for a grown person to enter.
Jimmy went up next with Amy close behind. The Rector helped them through. Inside there was a pew to step down on.
“I’ll go next,” John said starting his climb.
The heavy bag on his shoulder made it difficult to balance on the rope ladder. John reached the top, handed the bag through to Amy and knelt down at the window to look in.
“It’s beautiful,” Amy said.
“It is,” John said.
He had been inside the church for a wedding before but was still awed by its beauty.
Derek nodded for Shanna to go next. She took three steps backwards and motion for Derek to proceed. Derek looked at her and frowned.
“You know,” he said. “I really hope you drop the attitude soon. You’re going to get somebody killed.”
“I’m not going until after you,” she said.
“Suit yourself,” Derek said with a shrug and started up the ladder. Shanna stood on the ground watching him.
A scream broke the silence. Derek froze. He looked down just as a demon zombie emerged from behind a large tombstone and sprinted toward Shanna.
“Look out!” Derek shouted.
Derek was helpless to act. He was halfway up the ladder and could not bring his rifle to bare. He headed back down as fast as he could.
Hearing the scream John rushed to the ledge to see Shanna flying backwards. The demon stopped, screamed again and lunged at her as she lay scrawled out in the grass. John raised the rifle and let loose two rounds.
The first round missed and flew past the demon striking the pistol Shanna held knocking it out of her hand. She felt a sharp pain as her hand instantly went numb. The second shot hit the zombie in the base of the skull. The bullet exited the top of its head blowing a hole in it and peppering the grass around Shanna with brains and blood.
The momentum carried the demon’s body forward where it collapsed on top of her. She looked up to see the demon’s face coming at her from above. She turned her head just in time to keep from getting a face full of zombie.
By this time Derek was off the ladder and on the ground. He raced to where Shanna lie covered by the demon’s body, grabbed it by the feet and pulled it off of her. She rolled onto her stomach, coughed, gagged, and threw up. Derek noticed a cut over her left eye. Blood trickled down slowly. He helped her sit up and pulled a bottled of water from his pack.
“Close you eyes,” he said.
He opened the bottled and poured it over her face. The water washed away the blood.
“You know,” Derek said. “That somebody you’re going to get killed just might be you...”
John reached the ground and looked around trying to figure out how the demon could have gotten in. He saw the gate by the front left of the church was open.
“Derek the gate’s open,” he said.
John ran to the gate and slammed it shut just seconds before a lone zombie appeared in front of it. An open pad lock hung from the latch. The key still in it. John locked the gate, removed the key, and put it in his pocket.
He recognized the gomer from the cemetery. The car keys still clutched tightly in its right hand.
John looked into the gomer’s eyes wondering if there was any consciousness there at all.
“What’s up... gomer?” John said.
The gomer zombie stood on the other side and stared back at him. Bloody drool ran down its chin. Its eyes unblinking.
“So... other than being dead I’m guessing not much,” John added laughing.
John could swear a smirk briefly came across the zombie’s face. He stepped closer to the gate. The gomer grunted. John smiled, nodded then turned and rejoined the others. He knew the gomer wasn’t a threat.
“What’s up?” Derek asked.
“The gate was unlocked,” John said. “I locked it.”
“I guess that explains how it got in,” Derek said.
“There’s a gomer at the gate watching us,” John said pointing back to the zombie.
They helped Shanna up and walked her over to the ladder. She was unsteady on her feet.
“You alright?” Derek asked.
“Of course I’m alright,” she said. “Why?”
John and Derek looked at each other.
“You go on up,” John said.
“I’ll go but this doesn’t change anything,” she said.
As she turned to go up the ladder, Derek turned to John. “What does that mean?” he whispered.
John shrugged.
The gomer, watching from the gate, grabbed it with both hands and rattled it loudly.
“We better check that out,” Derek said.
“Tell Amy and the Rector we’ll be up soon,” John told Shanna. “We’re going to see what the deal is with this guy.”
“Shanna looked back. “Suit yourself.”
As John and Derek approached the gomer backed away. After they watched it for a minute the gomer turned and headed off down the street.
“Lets follow it,” John said.
“Why?” Derek asked.
“Shits and giggles.”
“Oh, why didn’t you say so...” Derek said. “No reason is reason enough for me.”
They unlocked the gate, stepped through and locked it back.
“Whatever you do don’t lose that key,” Derek said.
“Don’t worry.”
They checked their weapons and followed the gomer for a block until it turned down a narrow driveway between two houses. They stood at the sidewalk and watched trying to figure out what it was up to.
The gomer walked to the rear of the house, raised his arm and pointed the keyless remote at a car parked there. He pressed the button. Nothing happened. He grunted with frustration.
“He’s trying to unlock another car,” Derek said.
7
THE BEAMER
------------------------------------------悪魔死---------------------------Robert Small is a fifty two year old, divorced, six foot one, balding salt and pepper haired, one hundred and eighty five pound, self described potty mouth and South Carolina native from Spartanburg, South Carolina.
He was in Charleston for the week staying at a Bed and Breakfast near the corner of Tradd and Meeting Streets. He was stressed out at work and decided he needed a break.
His girlfriend was supposed to join him on Tuesday but... she never made it. Delayed no doubt by the end of the world.
He arrived late Sunday afternoon, checked in at the bed and breakfast and enjoyed a nice meal at a Poogan’s Porch. One of his favorite Charleston restaurants.
Monday was a day he spent browsing through bookstores downtown and walking through the market.
He ended his evening at Tommy Condon’s, a local pub, and turned in around 11:30 pm.
He was sleeping soundly at 6:40 am Tuesday morning when someone began banging on doors to wake the guests. He rose quickly, pulled on his pants, and stepped into the hallway.
“Is the place on fire?” he asked the hostess.
“Everyone has to leave. Now!” she screamed as she headed down the stairs.
“What’s going on,” he shouted after her.
“The world is coming to an end!” she shouted. “Get your stuff and get out.”
“What the hell?” he mumbled to himself as he turned to pack his things.
Not understanding the severity of the situation, he took a shower, shaved, and got dressed.
When he emerged from his room twenty minutes later the place was deserted.
With his luggage in one hand and a brief case in the other he headed down the stairs and stopped and stared at the TV in the lobby.
“The zombies are taking over,” the announcer said. “The living are dying, the dead are rising, and the rest are being hunted like animals... “
Zombies? Really?... he thought. This is crazy. Absolutely insane...
The screen went blank. He heard gunshots and screams coming from outside in the street. He thought of his car parked a block away. Inside, locked in the glove compartment, was his handgun. He wished he had put it in his bag and kept it with him. A man rushed by and out the open door.
“Where are you going?” Robert asked.
The man turned.
“They’re here,” he said. “Run.”
Another person, growling and screaming, ran past. Robert jumped out of the way. The person followed the man out into the street where it tackled him to the ground. The attacker ripped at the man’s throat. As it went about its business it turned to Robert and screamed. Robert left the porch quickly and looked toward his car. There were more of the crazies blocking his path. He knew he could never get through.
“Fuck!”
He headed in the other direction toward a restaurant across the street. Bodies littered the sidewalk. Many ripped to pieces. A restaurant supply delivery box truck was parked in the street. He looked back at his car. Still blocked. He clutched the keys tightly in his right hand.
If I can o
nly get to my car, he thought.
A mob of dead came around the corner of the next building and headed his way. Turning to go in the other direction he ran only a few feet and stopped again. The path to his car was still blocked. The mob had grown in numbers and was advancing on him.
“Shit!”
He dropped the luggage and ran to the box truck nearby. The ramp was still down. He climbed up, lifted it and dropped it to the ground. The zombies heading his way became even more agitated at the noise of the heavy metal ramp hitting the pavement.
“Fucking zombies...”
He continued to curse as he reached up, grabbed the strap and pulled the door down. He looked around the inside of the truck and suddenly felt very claustrophobic.
“You just trapped yourself in a box truck dumb ass.” he said to himself.
Being on the inside of the truck he was unable to latch the door. He hoped they wouldn’t figure out how to open it.
It was getting lighter outside. The truck had skylights so at least soon he wouldn’t be in the dark. He listened as the pack of dead gathered at the rear. He was ready to hold the door down if they tried to open it. He listened as they clawed at the side of the truck.
The banging and growling continued for several hours before slowly dying down and fading away. He listened as the mob moved off to find other prey. He could finally relax a little.
Robert shook his head in disgust at his situation. “So, I’m hanging out in Charleston, minding my own fucking business, and the zombie freaking apocalypse breaks out...” He said under his breath. “Perfect...”
He spat in disgust. “Are you fucking kidding me?!” he shouted.
There was at least one zombie that would not go away. He heard it outside for the rest of the day. There was an occasional grunt and knock on the truck that would startle him out of his stupor. At one point he put his ear to the door to listen. A slap against it sent him scrambling to the back.
Sometime shortly before sunset, he listened carefully for any sound outside. Finally after he was satisfied there was nothing out there he raised the door.
After raising it only a couple of feet, his ankles were grabbed and his feet pulled out from under him. He hit the floor hard on his back. He managed to catch the door and keep himself from being pulled completely out of the truck. Pain shot up his leg as teeth sank deep into his right calf. Sharp fingernails dug into his flesh. His left shoe was ripped away and his left ankle bitten severely.