The Demented Z (Book 2): Desolation

by Derek J. Thomas

  Tom knew he had to move or risk being surrounded by swarming infected. If he got pinned in the tree, he would bleed out in no time. Taking one last look at his still bleeding wound, Tom slid his way down the tree, dodging through the branches. He reached the bark floor and scrambled out from under the scratchy branches.

  The stores across the street remained shrouded in darkness, their windows like black pits. The moon cast long shadows across the street and sidewalk. One of the buildings, a small furniture store sandwiched between two much larger buildings, had broken out windows and the doors left wide open. The faint moonlight spilled through the opening. In the dim light, movement could be seen. Shadows hid the source of the movement, but their growls gave them away.

  There were loud footfalls on pavement. Rushing in from several directions were hordes of demented, their angered shrieks splitting through the night. They heard the shots and the screams, and were drawn to them like moths to a flame.

  Tom was hunched in the shadows of the spruce tree when they spotted him. The loud huffing noise that Tom was regrettably becoming accustomed to sounded out. The call caused those inside the furniture store to spin around, looking at directly at Tom. They were likely devouring one of Lincoln’s men and this caused them to hesitate. The decision to either continue feeding or chase after new prey clearly weighed on their slow minds. Taking advantage of their indecision, Tom sprinted across the street, veering at an angle away from the furniture store.

  The demented became infuriated when they saw him move. As one, they stood and raced out of the darkness. Their faces and hands were covered in blood and gore.

  Before Tom reached the sidewalk on the other side of the street a gunshot rang out. The angry boom came from somewhere in front of Tom, maybe the next street over.

  Boom...Boom...Boom...the shots continued. The demented had found Lincoln’s other man.

  Directly in front of Tom stood a large department store, cement blocks and dark windows staring back at him. With a surge he rushed directly at a pair of glass doors marked as the entrance. Just before hitting the doors at full speed, Tom glanced to his left and saw there were dozens of demented filling the dark street. Please don’t be locked, Tom thought to himself just before slamming into the swinging door. The impact sent a shocking pain through his hand and wrist, but thankfully the door flew inward.

  The stench of decay smacked him in the face, washing over him like filthy pond water. It clung to him like a blanket, his skin immediately feeling clammy. With all the death he had been around over the last few weeks he would have though his nose would be used to it, but that was definitely not the case. His stomach rolled, gag reflex in full force.

  The front of the store had a long row of checkout counters with lone registers sitting at each of them. Beyond these were wide aisles separated by tall shelves. The usually neat and tidy shelves were nearly empty and what was left was a disaster. Torn open boxes lay scattered about, their contents spilled across the shelves and down onto the floor. It looked like a tornado came inside the building, taking half of the items with it and leaving the rest strewn all about.

  Several loud moans from deeper in the store let Tom know he was not alone. Tom ran between a set of checkout counters and peered down one of the dark aisles, trying to determine the source of the noises. In the center of the aisle sat a low metal cage that had a bunch balloons tied to it. They were once helium filled and floated joyfully above the wire rack, but now lay limply on the floor, shriveled and wrinkly. It was beyond these, in the deep shadows, that Tom saw movement. Hoping to avoid any confrontation, Tom started to back out of the aisle toward the registers.

  With the ferocity of a bomb going off, the front doors exploded inward, demented flooding inside. Like a raging river, they squeezed through the narrow opening and then fanned out in a huge mass of bared teeth and reaching hands. Tom began to backpedal, watching in horror as they continued to pour into the building. The noise level reached a deafening roar.

  Spinning back around, Tom raced past the deflated balloons. The loud shrieks spurred him faster than he thought he could run. There was movement in the shadows ahead. Tom’s eyes were beginning to adjust to the darkness and he could make out vague forms shuffling his way. They had the slow movements of the undead. Their groans were drowned out by the ear piercing rumble of the demented that continued to stream into the store.

  The demented were in a single minded rage. They swarmed over and around the checkout counters like army ants, almost moving as one. Whether they were driven by hunger, hatred, or some unknown desire, it was powerful and motivating. Once they locked onto living prey they were relentless, an all-consuming drive taking over.

  Tom continued to sprint further back into the store, getting ever closer to the undead that were drawn his way. There were four of them. All of them were covered in dried blood, filth, and probably things far worse. Their clothes barely clung to their bodies, hanging limply, now several sizes too large for their emaciated bodies. Their cheeks were sunken and eyes sockets dark and hidden. Lack of food was taking a toll on their bodies. Nearing Tom, they bared their teeth in hungry growls and reached out for him, clawing awkwardly at the air.

  Using speed to his advantage, Tom dodged to the far side of the aisle, avoiding all but one of the undead. Directly in front of him staggered a tall man, nearly skeletal in appearance. His long arms reached out for Tom. His lifeless gray eyes stared at Tom without emotion. Tom had one shot left in his revolver, but really wanted to save it if at all possible. Lacking time to grab a makeshift weapon, Tom charged directly at Tall Man, turning his shoulder and using his forearm to slam into his body.

  Tall Man’s arms grasped at Tom, trying to draw him in close. His frail body was surprisingly strong, however Tom’s momentum was too much for the lanky undead. Tom’s forearm and shoulder slammed into Tall Man’s midsection, sending him toppling over. His long fingers grasped at Tom clothes, ripping one of his shirt sleeves. Tom nearly lost his balance, spun sideways, slamming hard into the metal shelving. Items crashed to the floor around him. The fallen Tall Man reached for Tom’s legs while goods rained down on top of him.

  Tom was able to get a glance back toward the front of the store and he was terrified by what he saw. Demented were racing down the aisle directly toward him. Several had already reached the metal balloon rack and would be on top of him in a matter of seconds.

  Stumbling over the fallen items and yanking his boots away from Tall Man, Tom spun and began his sprint down the aisle. The floor was caked with dried blood. Tom danced his way between shredded boxes and piled up debris. He was unsure where he was headed, but knew this was his only option.

  Chapter 12: Choices

  The five of them had been hunkered down in the SUV for nearly an hour. None of them had said a word for quite some time, all of them just worriedly looking out the windows. Zeus was in the back, whimpering and pacing in anxious circles around the small space.

  Philip suddenly broke the silence, “If nobody’s going to say it, I will, he’s gone.”

  Hank looked briefly at Kelly and Sam, and then back to Philip. “We don’t know that. He may just be having a difficult time getting through the streets.” The heavy worry in the pit of Hank’s stomach told him otherwise, but he knew Tom wouldn’t give up if it were him. He also knew Kelly would be unable to bear the news. He looked down at Sam sitting in her lap. His usual smile was gone, replaced by tears and worry. He had said almost nothing since they got him to the car, instead just sitting in his mom’s lap, either staring out the window or fidgeting with his pants.

  “If Lincoln’s men don’t find us in this stupid parking lot the infected will. We can’t just sit here.” Philip shouted.

  Hank started to say something, but Kelly interrupted him. Her eyes were shiny with welled up tears. In a trembling voice she said, “He’s right.”

  “What? He would...” Hank started.

  Kelly held up a hand and said, “Just hear me out. Philip�
��s right that we can’t just sit here, but I’m not leaving Tom. We need to do something.”

  “We need to leave...go somewhere safe.” Philip said.

  “Safe! Are you kidding me?” Hank shouted. “Safe is like a union worker at five...long gone.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  From the back Jenny quietly said, “What if we make a quick drive through the streets between here and the school? Take a look around...see what we can see.”

  They all sat in silence for a few moments, letting the idea sink in and stew for a bit. Hank was the first to break the quiet. “Sounds like a good idea to me.”

  “Drive back toward the school...what if we run into Lincoln’s men? They are surely out looking for us.” Philip interjected.

  Hank wanted to start yelling at Philip. The little twerp did nothing but complain and argue. His voice had become a cheese grater on Hank’s ears, like salting exposed nerves. He took a deep calming breath and then said, “We’re a group, but I will not leave Tom behind, so I am going no matter what. We can split up if we have to. Who’s with me?”

  “I am.” Kelly said immediately.

  Jenny spoke up as well, “I’m with you guys.”

  Hank looked over his shoulder at Philip. “What do you say?”

  Red anger spread across Philip’s face. With the girls joining Hank he had little choice but to stick with the group. Fear of being on his own overrode everything else. “I will stick with you guys for now.” He said as defiantly as he could.

  “Well that’s settled.” Hank said while cranking the key. The large V8 engine rumbled to life.

  ******

  Tom reached the end of the aisle and looked in each direction, praying there was somewhere to go. A set of swinging double doors broke up the flat white wall. They were marked with red “Employees Only” signs, but Tom guessed nobody would care. He darted toward the doors, glancing down the aisles as he went. Both of the aisles he passed on the way were filled with screaming demented, racing his way.

  He hit the doors hard, flinging them wide open. They slammed into the wall with a bang that was barely heard over the deafening rumble of the demented. The hallway beyond was nearly pitch black, only lit by the dim light that spilled in from the door he just ran through. Tom continued sprinting down the hall into the darkness. He held one hand out in front of him to diminish the impact if he hit something, while keeping his other hand touching the wall to his side. The wall was surprisingly comforting in the inky blackness.

  Partway along the hall the reassuring wall disappeared from Tom’s touch. He came to a quick stop and reached back until he felt the wall once again. With a bit of blind inspection he found that there was a corner and the hall either split or he had entered a large open space.

  Suddenly the swinging doors banged loudly and the hall was filled with the screams and shrieks of the oncoming demented. With so many the dark would not slow them a bit. They would act like water flooding through a maze, filling every nook and cranny. They trampled their own in their haste to get at anything living. The viciousness and unrelenting hatred was astounding.

  Needing to just keep moving, Tom made the corner, following the wall as it cut to the right. He took several quick steps and then his feet caught something near the floor. The impact was brutal and quick. His face slammed hard against the stair steps before his mind realized what had happened. Pain shot through his skull and down his spine. White sparkles like night stars twinkled in and out of his vision, dancing through the darkness. Tom’s head spun, dizziness and nausea nearly taking over. He used every bit of concentration to keep from passing out.

  The pounding footsteps chased after him like the churning of a train down the tracks.

  Tom struggled back to his feet, nearly fainting in the process. Warm, wet blood streamed from a wound in his forehead, running down his temple and dripping off of his chin. Using his hand on the wall to steady himself, Tom began moving up the stairs, slowly at first, trying to regain control. Fighting through the pain he kept his eyes closed, rather than straining into the impenetrable darkness. Spurred on by the sounds of the demented Tom picked up the pace, taking a couple steps at a time, each footfall sending shocking pain from his head down through the rest of his body.

  Panic welled up inside Tom as the first wave of demented rushed into the darkness behind him. The first wave overshot the stairwell opening, their animal sounds, like those of feral dogs, echoed up the stairs after him. Tom continued to race up the steps, taking them as quick as he could. The sense of nausea was nearly overwhelming. Just as he reached the top of the stairs he heard demented at the base of the steps behind him. The squeak of sneakers followed by wet animal like growls alerted Tom that some had made the corner and would be flowing up the stairs after him.

  Tom continued to use his hand on the wall to feel his way along the hallway. It only took a few steps to feel the cool steel of a door jamb. He reached down, searched for the door knob, and once he found it, fumbled a bit and then flung the door open. Moonlight spilled in through a single window centered along the far wall. The meager light might have been one of the most beautiful sights Tom had seen in quite some time. After being surrounded by the heavy weight of pitch black it was like hope, confidence, and relief thrown into a blender and poured over the top of him.

  He quickly shut the door and engaged the small doorknob lock. It wouldn’t hold for long under a full assault, but Tom didn’t plan on sticking around for that.

  Taking a glance around the room, he found that he was in a small office. In front of the window sat a man flopped over on top of a dark wood desk. He was lying face down in a pool of his own blood. There was a small black hole in the side of his head and splattered blood and gore on the opposite wall.

  Footfalls sounded from back in the hall. They were quick and rushed past the door.

  Tom raced around the side of the desk, looking down at the floor. He found exactly was he was looking for. Hunching down he grabbed the pistol and checked it out. It was a .40 caliber Smith and Wesson that looked like it had never been fired. Probably the guy’s trophy gun, only purchased to tell his buddies he had a gun. Tom checked the chamber and found a loaded round. He dropped out the magazine and tested its weight. Happy to find it nearly full he slammed the magazine back into the well and stood.

  Animal like scratching and wet growls emanated from out in the hall. They were growing in volume and it was clear the hall was beginning to fill with demented. It was only a matter of time before their sheer mass caused the door to implode, spilling death into the small room. Tom did not plan on hanging around to witness that happen.

  Rolling the dead guy and his chair out of the way, Tom stepped over to the window and took a look out into the night. The moonlight cast a gray glow cross the narrow alleyway, causing everything to take on a dreary low contrast. Directly across from him stood a two story brick apartment building. Sets of dark empty windows stared back at him like the dark eyes of a giant robot. At the base of the building sat a dumpster surround by cardboard boxes and a mound of black trash bags. Tom eased the window open. Cool night air washed over him. After breathing in the stench of death for so long he could have just stood their sucking in as much clean air as possible.

  The door to the hall began to creak and groan under the weight of the demented outside.

  This was enough to get Tom moving. He estimated the distance to the ground to be around fifteen feet, not too far but enough to break an ankle if he wasn’t careful. These days a broken ankle was a death sentence. He stuffed the pistol in the back of his pants and slipped out the window feet first. Using the windowsill he hung down as far as possible before letting go. The landing jarred his body, sending painful shockwaves through his body, reminding him how badly his head and arm hurt.

  A quick glance down was a terrifying sight. His entire arm was covered in blood, enough blood that it continually dripped from his fingers to the pavement below. In the dim moonlight the growing pud
dle was as black as used car oil.

  Tom hunched down in the alley and listened to the creepy noises that surrounded him. The night was filled with howls, shrieks, and blood curdling screams. It was like the infected had been sitting dormant and the earlier gunfire had woke them, turning the city into a playground only found in nightmares. He could also hear car engines, at least two of them in the distance. Unsure who they were Tom decided he would need to stick with the plan...or what was left of the plan.

  After thinking back through all the twists and turns he had taken since the school, Tom decided he knew which direction the parking lot lay. He stood and moved down the alley toward the dumpster.

  There was a loud crack of splintering wood from the window above. The sound was immediately followed by angry howls.

  Tom glanced over his shoulder at the window above. He caught his foot on a trash bag that had fallen from the heap and nearly went down. Regaining his balance, he focused on the pavement in front of him and worked his way through the scattered debris to the end of the alley.

  Tom was hugging the brick building as he eased up to the corner. The sound of shattering glass caused him to stop. He began to turn around. There was the sound of glass clattering to the floor followed by a dull thud.

  Thud...thud...thud...

  He turned back to see bodies falling out of the window and landing on one another in a pile. Some remained motionless on the pavement; others flopped about awkwardly, while some began to regain their feet, oblivious to the fall. They continued to spill out of the window like logs over a waterfall. One of them saw Tom standing frozen at the end of the alley. He raised his head to the sky and let out a loud bark. He continued barking loudly into the night sky, calling to all within ear shot.