The Undead the Second Week Compilation Edition Days 8-14

by RR Haywood

  The child is blown back from the force of the round, her skull flying off in chunks to spatter the ground in a wide arc behind her. The sharp crack of the gun sounds out louder than the screams. Paula freezes her mind unable to compute what she just did. Undead surge round the corner, drawn by the sound of the shot. She fires again; pressing the trigger at the oncoming bodies and watching them spin away. The sub machine gun is well built with little recoil and she plants the shots easily. The bodies drop as she starts backing away, more children screaming out in agony then appearing at the corner running amongst the undead. Blood and injuries everywhere.

  She fires again, dropping another undead and wincing at the repeated loud cracks of each gun shot. Too late, nothing she can do now. She turns and starts sprinting away across the field cursing with anger at the sight of the figures coming in from the other end.

  She keeps running, judging the distance and gaps between them. No, too many coming now. She veers away from the tree line, the only way to go now. Howls rip the air behind her, roars from the undead as they charge in her wake. The screams of the children still ripe on the air as she runs faster and faster.

  She can hear them charging behind and see the others coming in from the bottom of the field. With her legs pumping away she plans her route. The field leads into more houses of the estate, but they are small and no good for hiding. They will see where she goes and simply follow her path.

  She needs to avoid the centre and work away to the outer edge where the numbers are fewer and the streets less clogged.

  Glancing round she picks her pace up at the sight of the thick crowd charging after her. Pouring through the gaps between the school buildings into the field.

  At the edge of the field she runs across the road and clambers over a high garden fence, dropping down before going garden to garden. Out of sight she takes side and rear fences, zig zagging away and deeper into the small estate.

  Trying to picture the layout of the town in her mind she uses to the high hills of the downs to keep her bearings. She needs a distraction, something to re-focus them but there’s nothing usable here.

  In a garden she spots an open back door and runs into the house, going straight for the kitchen to examine the cooker hoping to get some gas pumping out. Electric hobs and electric oven.

  She runs into the lounge and pulls her lighter out, breathing hard as she holds the tiny flame to the bottom of the curtain, praying it’s old and not a modern fire proof material.

  Small tendrils of black smoke start to wisp off the curtain, she mutters quietly, urging the flame to take hold. It does, just small but it soon spreads and she makes for the front door, unlocking it to race outside and down the street.

  At the end she hunkers down, looking in every direction. She can hear them but not see them. Sounds of crashing, fences being trampled, smashing glass and roars as they keep charging after her. Within a minute she spots black smoke coming from the open front door of the house. It will serve to show where she had just been but it might also draw them there instead of after her.

  Checking her position against the high hills she works down the street away from the centre of town, trying to hold the layout of the town in her mind. The image of the child flits through her head with the knowledge that she fired on impulse and didn’t see the wound until after, or maybe she did see it first and her brain moved quicker than actual thought could take place. The thought of firing at an uninjured child sickens and repulses her, but it wasn’t uninjured. The child had been bitten which means it would turn.

  A knot of tension grows in her stomach as the images replay in her mind. She’s killed thousands and seen the human body dissected and blown apart many times over, even children that had been turned had been slaughtered in droves by Paula. But a child that hadn’t turned and the sounds of them screaming in agony permeate her mind. If only she’d been five minutes faster, if only she’d flashed a mirror or sent a signal, done something and done it faster.

  She knew those children would now be coming back and would be joining in the chase after her.

  Just keep going, get out the town and work back to the vehicle then drive off and work a plan out. She reaches the end of the road and takes a swift right into a junction and away from the oncoming things charging at her from the left.

  The houses here are older brick built cottages with wooden framed windows and wooden front doors with faded and peeling paint. Old and cheap looking, indicating she must be on the outskirts now. A high wall takes over from the end of the terraced houses, she keeps going looking ahead to examine the layout and plan a route.

  She veers towards a wide entrance further up on the left. She can hear them behind her, the footsteps as they pound the ground and the odd howl and groans as they press on.

  Breathing hard she reaches the entrance, catching a glimpse of the large sign on the wall welcoming her to something or other industrial estate with the signature logos of the businesses next to a row of unit numbers.

  Casting about she heads down the main road of the industrial unit, flanked by large dome and flat roofed buildings. Breakdown vehicles parked up, delivery trucks and white vans left abandoned.

  The units look untouched, secure and locked up tight. But that’s all they are, just squat buildings with open land round them and nowhere to hide or create a zig zag trail. The deeper she goes the more frantic she becomes, fearing she will get trapped or run out of energy before something presents itself.

  Up ahead, just after the slight bend; a quick view of a chain link fence. That must mean a compound or secure inner area. Paula grits her teeth and ignores the pain in her side flaring up from the stitch. Shouldn’t have had that coffee, stick to water next time.

  The bend opens up, revealing the long fence separated into sections with thick concrete posts embedded into the ground and razor wire coiled at the top. Perfect, she just needs to find a way in now. Double gates closed and locked but no razor wire on the top, just sharp spikes. It’ll have to do, she goes for them and leaps high at the last second. Grasping the bars to pull herself up, thanking her forethought of leaving the bag in the vehicle.

  Carefully she braces one foot on the top of the gate and steps over the sharp spikes, twisting round to draw her trailing leg over.

  The horde are in view, eyes fixed on her. She knows the spikes won’t stop them but it will delay them. Sliding down she drops to the ground and starts off, running towards the much larger buildings within the secure area. Some have rear loading bays with bakery trucks backed up to them.

  She heads that way, knowing bakeries work during the night and hoping either one of the trucks will be left with the keys in or there is something else she can use.

  A flash of blue and red objects in the distance catch her eye, familiar shades that stop her dead in her tracks then running back to peer through the gap in the buildings. A huge smile splits her face apart and she charges towards the new sight.

  Two big units side by side with a narrow alley down the middle, she takes the alley, stepping, jumping and tripping over the piles of litter and broken up wooden pallets left there.

  At the end she pushes a big wheelie bin away and takes a second to stare in wonder at the sight. Perfect, absolutely perfect but she’ll have to move quick if she can make it work.

  Taking a breath she runs for the new fence, this one higher and far more solid. Gasping from the exertion she reaches the top and climbs over, no razor wire this time but plenty of big signs and warnings of CCTV security systems and uniformed patrol guards.

  Onto the ground and she glances back, nodding that the mouth of the alley is still clear. The nearest truck is across the yard. She sprints over and hoists herself up onto the tailgate and onto the back of the flatbed lorry.

  Must be just twist and release, please let it just be twist and release. It is!

  ‘Yes!’ she grips the first nozzle and starts turning it, listening as the jet of gas starts escaping. Leaving that one she moves on,
grasping and turning another and then another.

  She works her way through the truck, twisting the valves on the gas bottles one by one. She doesn't do all of them on the truck, there must be over thirty on this one alone and not all will be needed.

  She glances round at the row of flatbed lorries all loaded with gas bottles, offering a quick prayer to whoever or whatever led here to this place.

  Down from the first truck and onto the next one, valves twisted and the air fills with the solid noise of gas escaping. She makes sure to turn some fully and others only half so the gas doesn't just escape into the atmosphere and dissipate.

  Leaving the next truck she moves round and goes to the one after, increasing the chances of igniting more of them. Quick glance round and the first are out of the alley, tripping and stumbling to fall against the wheelie bin, sprawling out but quickly getting back up.

  The alley disgorges thing after thing, spewing them out so they can pick up speed again. It takes a few minutes for them to realise where she is, standing round and running in different directions.

  She almost laughs at the sight of the stupid creatures until she jumps down and heads for another truck. They spot the movement and start charging towards the fence. Looking over at them she spots the thick pipe running to the huge tank at the end. That must be the main supply where they fill the bottles up.

  Knowing she has but minutes, Paula flat out sprints towards the huge tank emblazoned with signs warning of no smoking and no naked flames.

  She curses at the sight of the electronic display, wishing it was old fashioned with a big wheel she could turn that would dump loads of gas out. She grabs dials and starts turning them but the display board is void of life, inert and dull.

  Forcing herself to think rationally she realises they must have a way of operating in the event of a mains power outage. They’re at the fences now, the masses increasing with every passing second as they throw themselves at it.

  Tracing the pipes she finds a fitment that must connect to the bottles and working back she finds the release lever, pulling it over she listens at the end of the pipe but nothing is coming out. The gas must only come out when something is pressed into it.

  Too late, time to go and she can already smell the heady scent of gas filling the air. If that fence goes down and causes a spark they will all be blown to bits.

  This is the back of the gas compound so the front must be round the other side of the building. She sets off, jogging now instead of all out sprinting, knowing she has one flare left for the flare gun.

  How far should she go? What’s the range on the flare gun? And will it ignite the gas in the air or does it need to impact on something?

  Halfway towards the entrance she stops and about turns, breathing hard with sweat pouring down her face but the baseball cap does the job in keeping the sweat from her eyes.

  Paula holds her ground and waits for the first fence to get pushed down. It won’t take long. Sniffing the air she can’t make out the smell of gas from here, but the force of the explosion will still be dangerously close. She gauges the distance to the front gates and calculating how long it will take to sprint that way. The gas bottle lorries are behind the building, which means the solid structure will take some of the energy from the explosion and give her a few more seconds to get away.

  If she goes any further she will lose line of the sight with the trucks, no it has to be here. Right here. She draws the flare gun out and breaks the barrel open, checking the flesh flare is loaded and ready.

  With the sound of metal being twisted the fence starts to buckle inwards from the sheer press of bodies forcing themselves against it. She takes aim, holding the flare gun out in front of her towards the row of lorries.

  The fence falls down with a whump, bodies sprawling out from the sudden loss of resistance and getting trampled by the immediate surge that follows. A loud howl goes up at the same time as the things realise their prey is now but seconds away from being taken.

  Here goes, she pulls the trigger and watches the trail of the flare as it scorches across the air and straight over the top of the trucks to sail off into the distance.

  Missed. She missed the only shot. With a determined growl she yanks the rifle round and starts firing at the gas bottles on the truck. The sharp crack of the rifle sounds out, followed instantly by the pinging of the low calibre bullets bouncing off the side of the hardened gas bottles.

  She aims lower for the fuel tank of the vehicle, grimacing with horror at the sight of the huge horde now pouring across the ground towards her.

  Shot after shot goes into the lorry, she strikes a tyre blowing it out. The lorry sags which causes the bottles to lurch over, they start to fall from the back banging noisily to the ground and rolling across the concrete base.

  Paula twists round and starts firing at the big tank in the corner, repeatedly pulling the trigger. A gas canister falls from the truck and hits hard against the ground causing a single solitary spark. One spark that ignites the gas in the air turning it into an instant fireball that blows out sideways straight into the horde.

  Paula’s blanches at the sight, unaware of the spark from the falling canister but taking full advantage of the distraction to start running like crazy towards the gate.

  The fire roars across the ground as it ignites more gas escaping from bottles. The first one goes up with a dull thud which sends it soaring high into the air like a missile.

  Paula hears it go but doesn't waste time in looking but is head down and sprinting with everything she’s got.

  More canisters start going up, some with dull thuds as the valve ignites and forces the bottle away like a rapidly deflating balloon. Others explode like giant grenades that send super-hot chunks of ragged metal deep into the horde.

  Like a pressure wave hitting them they go down, the force of the explosion and ragged metal ripping them to pieces.

  Reaching the gates Paula grabs the bars and starts pulling hand over hand, cursing loudly when the gate swings out with her still trying to climb it.

  Check the bloody thing is closed next time, she berates herself inwardly and keeps running, heading deeper into the units of the estate.

  Turning back after a full two minutes of running round and between the commercial buildings she almost feels disappointed at the lack of anything to see. The gas burns itself out cleanly and doesn't create any smoke. The flames are forced out along the ground so don’t go high into the air.

  But the heat builds and the pressure builds with it. The gas ignited from the opened canisters heats the air well beyond the safe operating temperature of the bottles.

  The remaining bottles explode, the rapidly heating gas expanding inside the pressurised containers and literally forcing the metal to shred apart. Bang after bang sounds out as they go, mini fireballs scorch up with each one. Paula nods, satisfied that she at least got a visual aid that something is happening.

  It won’t take them long to find a way round it so she moves off, running further into the estate and again clocking the position of the downs to guide her away from the town centre.

  Hundreds dead already and she only just arrived.

  A thought hits her, that the power and might of an exploding gas facility is great, but it will still only kill a set amount. If she could have used those bottles to plant and prepare she could have caused much worse damage. But on the run like that, she only got a few in relation to the overall size.

  Suddenly the task seems so much harder, something she maybe shouldn’t be taking on. The children already paid with their lives and in a truly awful way. A glimpse of movement and she ducks left, heading down the side of another unit to crouch and listen. The sound of footsteps grow louder, feet drumming on the ground as more of the things flood past heading for the fire, cutting her route off and forcing her to remain still.

  Working quietly down the side of the unit she reaches the rear and drops down, trapped in a courtyard with a high wall running round the en
d, sheer sided with broken glass embedded on the top. No way over it. The only way out is back up the side and out the front, which is now crawling with undead moving towards the fire.

  They seem different, more organised and cohesive. If there is another Thomas here he must have a tight grip on them. Paula berates herself instantly for assuming it would be a male undead, why not a female?

  If just one of them comes down here she’ll be spotted. The ground is clear and open with nothing she can hide behind or under.

  She looks at the rear of the building, the door is secure and fastened shut. The only way in would be the window but that would mean breaking it and causing noise.

  Trapped. Failing to save the children and trapped in a stinking industrial estate. She rests her head against the pane of glass cursing her misfortune and listening to the gas bottles still exploding in the near distance.

  They’re exploding properly now, not just thudding off but detonating like bombs. Without pausing to think she twists the rifle round and taps the butt against the pane, waiting for another loud bang of an exploding gas bottle. As one goes up she taps the glass and winces. Not hard enough so she waits again, holding the butt inches away from the glass pane. Now, she hits the glass immediately after another quick explosion, the glass fractures, seemingly noisy from being stood right next to it.

  With the rifle reversed and held ready she waits for them to come thundering down the side of the unit. Nothing. Going low she peers round and finds it clear. Back at the window she waits for more explosion before raking the rifle round the glass and out the frame.

  Before climbing in she shoes the broken glass away from underneath the window, scattering it further down and into the gap between the door and the ground. Satisfied she climbs up onto the windowsill and crabs through the hole, dropping down and holding in a crouch.