Life After Death

by Jenkins, Seb

When it finally opened, Max was on his feet before the sunlight even made it through the door.

  Paulo wandered through the door alone. He didn’t look up, and he looked positively haunted.

  He didn’t walk far into the room, as if he didn’t want to get any closer to Max than he had to.

  “Paulo?” Max said, unable to get out any more than that.

  “I don’t have long Max, they’ve told me I need to go straight to the pit…for a fight.”

  “I’m sorry, Max, there was nothing I could do; believe me, I tried. She’s dead. Lizzie’s dead,” Paulo sobbed, before immediately leaving the room again.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Max was a wreck. He had always battled depression, but this was a new low. The past few hours he had sat alone, in a corner of the room, rocking back and forward. He couldn’t get the image of Lizzie screaming out of his head; screaming as Joey tortured her, making her pay for his mistakes.

  Since his brother had died, and he assumed Joey had met the same fate, Max never thought he could be close to anyone again. He knew how close he had come to trying his luck with the gun on that bridge before he met Lizzie. He would surely have met his end eventually.

  Then he met her, and he felt like his life had started over; like he had been given a second chance. She needed him and he needed her, even if neither of them would ever admit it. He had finally found a reason for living again, and now it had been snatched away.

  What was he thinking? Snatched away from him? It was Lizzie who’d had her whole life snatched away from her. Max couldn’t help but feel responsible; if he had left her at the Jennings’ as he’d planned, she would likely still be alive. Maybe unhappy, but still alive. What was better? To be dead, or unhappy and alive?

  Max didn’t know anymore. He couldn’t think of anything but her. Her face was etched in his brain like a tattoo. Her laugh and sarcastic comments replayed on loop in his ears. Her wide smile there every time he shut his eyes.

  Max stood up.

  “We’re leaving tonight,” he announced to the group with a hollow tone.

  All conversations stopped and those sitting down took to their feet.

  “What about Paulo?” Someone asked.

  Max had thought about Paulo. Not because he missed him, or even because he was worried. He just needed to know more. How did Lizzie die? Was she in pain? What were her last words?

  He hoped that Paulo had survived. The two men had become close, but Max had to be realistic. He had to get out of here.

  “He left for the pit hours ago, and it’s dark now. He’s not coming back,” Max mumbled.

  “Get your weapons ready and clear your heads; next time they open that cell door, we move,” he stated.

  “But what if-” Someone started to argue, Max didn’t turn to see who.

  “But nothing. I’m going, you can follow me or not. It’s your choice,” Max growled, pacing back and forth, waiting for his chance to escape.

  Max didn’t even know why he wanted to escape. He didn’t know where he’d go. Maybe it was finally time for him to escape life altogether, because once again it felt like a trap to him. Part of him felt that he should go on, for Lizzie, but he wasn’t sure he could. He wasn’t sure he was strong enough to do it alone again.

  An hour or so passed before the prisoners got their chance. Max didn’t think it would come so soon to be honest, but the cover of darkness was ideal. As soon as they heard the key in the lock of the main door, everyone got into position.

  They each jumped to their feet, moving closer to the cell door so as to make sure they could force it open if given the chance. Max had told them to sit down and look casual. The last thing they needed was the guards noticing something was off.

  The door finally opened and three guards rolled in; less than Max had expected. The night shift always meant a dwindling number, but this was great news. One of them carried a large drum of water for the water cooler, the others with sacks of bread.

  Max’s heart began to beat as he saw the water. It meant they would definitely be unlocking the cell door.

  The joy was short-lived however, as he noticed that the weapons hanging from their sides for once did have ammo clips. They had obviously taken extra precaution seeing as they would have to enter the cell. Max didn’t linger on the detail; his mind was still made up. The likelihood was that people would die tonight, but how much longer would they have really lasted in the pit?

  The guard’s keys jangled, the prisoners’ ears eager with anticipation. The lock clunked open and the door swung on its hinges. Before the first guard could even toss in the drum of water, a man to Max’s left let out a lung-busting roar and charged at him. The guard was thrown onto his back, the drum rolling away harmlessly to the side. Within a split second more and more of the group began to make their charges, brandishing the makeshift weapons. Max followed.

  The first guard was still on his back, overpowered by the charging prisoner who was now hacking away at his stomach with a sharp piece of plastic. The two guards behind dropped their sacks of food, before fumbling for their weapons in a panic. They aimed and fired before the main group of charging captives could meet them; bodies fell, but more arrived. A man to Max’s right fell to the ground, blood spraying from his head and covering Max. The bullets rained down again. Another woman fell, and then a young man, but no one stopped running. No one hid or held back.

  Max was the first to reach the guards, grabbing the end of the gun in one hand and thrusting it up before landing a bone cracking punch to the guards jaw. The guard flopped to the floor and was instantly surrounded by prisoners, stabbing, punching and kicking all they could.

  The last guard had met a similar fate, screaming on his back as his chest was punctured over and over again. A lot of the prisoners had got carried away with a thirst for revenge, but that wasn’t in Max’s head. He wanted to escape as soon as possible, and there was no way the rest of the guards hadn’t heard all this commotion.

  He snatched up the keys from a fallen guard and hightailed it out the door. He didn’t know the compound too well; only the places he had been marched between here and the pit. For now, that was where he wanted to go. All his weapons were still locked away in the pre-match room and he intended to retrieve them while he could.

  Max sprinted as fast as he could ever remember running, and within a minute he was at the door. He forced the key into the lock and swiftly turned it before barging the door open. His head snapped left and right, trying to remember where his things were kept, but he spotted them after a second or two, still sitting on the shelf.

  He bounded over and plucked up Lizzie’s bag, swinging it over one shoulder. Then he reached down to the bottom shelf for his own.

  “Well what do we have here?” A voice giggled behind him.

  Max’s heart sank. He had been so close.

  He slowly turned his head around, cursing as he saw Otto standing in the doorway, pointing a gun at him.

  “Are you not enjoying your stay here?” Otto joked.

  “Get out of the way you fucking bastard!” Max cursed, going to get to his feet.

  “Ah ah ah, stay exactly where you are, Max my friend. We wouldn’t want you to end up like your little girlie friend now would we,” Otto mocked.

  Max’s blood boiled at the mention of Lizzie but he tried to keep a level head, slipping his hand into his backpack as he spoke.

  “I should have known you’d be the one smart enough to know I’d come here.” Max said, his hand searching the bag desperately.

  “Ooh, flattery; this is a side I haven’t seen yet. I like it,” Otto sniggered.

  “I never understood why you let someone like Joey run the show,” Max questioned, his fingers finally touching cold metal.

  Otto pondered on the comment.

  “If Otto wanted to take charge then he would!” he snapped.

  Max didn’t have time to check the chamber of the gun. He couldn’t without drawing attention to himself.<
br />
  “I don’t know man, just seems like you’re kind of his…bitch,” Max said, waiting for Otto to take the bait.

  “Bitch?! Otto isn’t anyone’s bitch!” he snarled, his concentration dropping for a split second.

  That was all Max needed.

  He span on his haunches, raising his hands to aim as he did so. Otto desperately tried to aim and fire his gun off first, but Max squeezed the trigger once and that was all he needed. The bullet seemed to move in slow motion, carving through the air before nestling between Otto’s eyes. The bang echoed through the room, before the soft squelch of impact, and then the silence that followed.

  Max didn’t linger. He threw his bag over his shoulder along with Lizzie’s and chucked the gun back inside. He paused only for a second to look down at Otto’s dead body on the way out; he couldn’t help but feel a sense of enjoyment.

  “Bitch,” he spat before walking out the door.

  Max stopped instantly, hearing footsteps running towards him from around a nearby corner. He ducked back into the room, softly pulling the door almost shut. He peered out through the crack, seeing a large group of guards scrambling in the direction of the cell room.

  Max waited for them to move out of sight before exiting the room and sprinting in the direction the guards had come from. At the far end of the road, Max could see the exit and the guard post next to it. There was no one there; his path to freedom was clear. It seemed that every guard on duty had rushed to the cell to round up the prisoners.

  Max hoped that more would make it out, but he could only think of himself now. He put one foot in front of the other, forcing his tired body into a run. He half expected a guard to pop out of nowhere, or a gunshot to ring out from behind him, but there was nothing. The exit got nearer and nearer, and Max got faster and faster.

  At no point did he look back. He leaped over the guard post and ran into the darkness. He had no idea which direction to run, he just wanted to get as far away from there as possible.

  He needed to get out of sight of the compound, so he took every turn he could. He doubted the guards would bother to follow, with all that was going on, but he was taking no chances. After his legs could run no more, he doubled over and paused to catch his breath.

  The streets were quiet, void of all life; the only noise was the rain as it spattered against the road. Max’s heart was beating out of his chest, but he knew he couldn’t afford to rest for long. He glanced towards the end of the road, wondering which direction to take now.

  As he looked off into the distance and began to move into a steady jog, he noticed a lone figure shuffling towards him. A soft clicking noise broke the silence, but Max continued to run. One clicker wouldn’t be a problem, and he couldn’t head back towards the pit. No way would he do that. The lone clicker shuffled closer, as Max stopped to retrieve his machete from his bag.

  When he looked back up towards the lonely undead attacker, he cursed loudly.

  “Fuck!”

  A couple more clickers rounded the corner to join their friend, then a couple more. Soon enough there was a whole group of them heading towards him, the smell of human flesh thick in their nostrils.

  They must have been attracted by all the noise at the pit, he thought, but there was nothing he could do about that now. With any luck, hundreds more of them had overrun the place and killed Joey and all those sick freaks.

  Max couldn’t turn back now; instead he pushed on, bursting his lungs in order to make a left turning onto another road before the horde cut it off. He just about made it, but the clickers were hot on his tail and Max wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep up the pace.

  The rain lashed down, stinging Max’s face as he sprinted through the darkness. He stumbled and fell to the floor, slicing open his knee as he did so, the puddle beneath him turned a deep red as he agonizingly pulled himself back to his sodden feet with his last remaining energy. He wasn’t far from home, but as he limped down the shadow filled street, he could hear the groans and the clicks behind him growing louder. Growing closer. He did not dare look over his shoulder, he knew they weren’t far behind.

  The undead were on his trail, and Max was on his last legs. He took the next street on his left, stopping in his tracks as another horde of undead lay waiting for him round the corner.

  For a moment his heart stopped, time stood still and gut-wrenching fear swallowed him whole. His way home was blocked, he didn’t have the strength to outrun these creatures anymore. Turning back Max took the only other available road, scampering down it as fast as his legs would allow. He chanced a quick glance behind him, regretting it instantly. They couldn’t be more than 10 seconds behind him.

  His mouth was dry, and tears began to form in his eyes, joining the heavy rain pouring down his face. He clenched his teeth and forced himself onwards, turning back to face the street in front. As he did so, undead poured out of gardens in front of him, to the left and right of the street, sweeping onto the road like deadly assassins.

  He was enclosed in a circle of his worst nightmares. All exits had been closed off, they were herding him like sheep. Herding him like prey. It was so organised, almost as if it had been a trap, set for him all along.

  Chapter Forty

  Max was rooted to the spot; he didn’t know what to do. The clickers were closing in from all directions, and he had no route out. How were they all so organised? He’d never seen any of the undead act like this before.

  The clickers closed in further, encircling Max completely. He turned on his heels, flipping from one direction to the other, doing all he could to spot a way out. He grasped his machete and bat; it looked as if he would have to fight his way out of this one. Fight his way out? As if that was even possible. The reality was that he would rather go down fighting than in a scared heap on the floor.

  His hands were sweating and his body trembling. He had been so close to death so many times before, but this scared him. This wasn’t on his own terms, and this wouldn’t be quick and painless. He’d seen the scars on Joey, and the prospect of that terrified him.

  The machete slipped from his sweaty grasp, clanging loudly on the floor. The noise was high pitched and loud; the sound of metal on metal. Max looked down to his fallen weapon, the horde now only a few metres away.

  The blade now lay still on top of a metal drain cover. Max acted on instinct, snatching up the sword and jamming it in the side of the manhole cover. He raised his bat above his head and smashed it down onto the machetes handle. The heavy drain cover creaked and popped up slightly out of the ground before wedging back in place.

  Max crashed the wooden bat onto the handle again, harder this time, the vibrations running painfully down each arm. This time the cover popped up further and dislodged from its position. Max heaved the cover to the side, praying that he would find some kind of tunnel below and not just a small drain.

  He was in luck; a ladder attached to the side of the opening led down into the darkness. Max didn’t have time to weigh up the options. He threw down the two bags and his weapons before diving in after them, gripping the metal ladder tightly. After a second or two he heard the items hit the ground so he knew the drop wasn’t too far. Max did his best to pull the cover back over the opening, but before he could wrench it back in place the gaps and cracks were filled with clicker hands and fingers.

  He abandoned the cover, instead moving down the ladder as fast as he could. The further he dropped, the less he could see, but he knew it was the only way. Before long his boots landed on hard ground, squelching in the soppy mess. He didn’t want to think about what he was stepping into, but the smell left little to the imagination.

  He ran his hands through the slimy gunk on the floor before he found all his dropped items, then he drove on into the blackness of the tunnel.

  He walked for what felt like miles, slowly stumbling his way through, unable to see more than a few feet in front of him.

  The noise of the clickers behind soon muffled and then dis
appeared altogether.

  After putting some distance between himself and the horde, Max found another ladder to the surface and took his chances. He was sick of being down here; it felt no different from the cage he had been locked in for the past weeks.

  He groggily climbed the ladder, keeping the bags firmly over his shoulder as he planted his palms on the cold metal drain cover and drove upwards with all his strength. The cover lifted slightly, allowing his to shift it over to one side and clamber out.

  It was still late at night, but Max had to shield his eyes from the bright lights meeting his return to the surface. He climbed to his feet and brushed himself down before replacing the cover and turning to the source of the light.

  He was outside the mall; the very same place he and Lizzie had first met the brotherhood. Max always assumed to pit wasn’t too far away from here, so he wasn’t exactly surprised.

  He peered up at the shopping centre for a moment, thinking back to the laughs and jokes he and Lizzie had shared when picking out their new clothes. He smiled to himself before ducking back into the shadows. The last thing he want was to be spotted and captured all over again.

  Max opened his own backpack, hopefully searching to see if any of the food and drink remained. It had been untouched, so he scooped up a bottle and glugged from it thirstily. He downed half the bottle before throwing it back in the bag. The gun still sat on the top, staring back at him.

  Max picked it up and felt it in his hand. The chamber was now empty of course. The gun had no power over his life anymore; it was just a harmless piece of metal. Max thought back to his altercation with Otto. The bullet had been sat in the chamber, ready to fire, just where he needed it to be. A second longer and Otto would have fired off his own gun and Max wouldn’t be here.

  That also meant that when Max had been sat on that bridge so long ago, with the gun pressed to his head, the bullet had been sat there waiting for him. If he had pulled the trigger that day, he wouldn’t have been met with the usual empty click, but the open arms of death.