It’s time to go.
The urgent thought beat out a staccato rhythm inside his head as he made it back to the main floor. Rushing into the garage, he could hear the roar outside. They were actually starting to throw their bodies against the side door now. The sound of them crashing against the house was nearly overwhelming, but Jeff ignored it and tossed his few supplies into the minivan. Snatching up the baseball bat, he ran back inside.
He was out of breath when he reached the front door. He bent at the knees and tried to suck in as much air as possible, tried to settle down. The noise wasn’t nearly as bad here. The mob had still not spread to the front door yet, which worked well with his hasty plan. He snatched up the hammer he’d dropped there a few minutes before and started prying at the two by four nailed across the door.
It took some effort, but within a couple of minutes, the board was down, and the only thing that stood between Jeff and the outside world was a deadbolt.
He dug into another pocket and pulled out the key to the car sitting in the driveway. Palming the dark plastic key fob, he pressed the red alarm button. The urgent honking cut through the tumult of screams and moans that had nearly driven Jeff’s family mad over the past few weeks. For a moment, it seemed as if this new noise, so shocking and ordinary, would overpower all others. But it was not to be. A tide of rage carried the volume of his neighbors above that of the horn as they began attacking the car.
“Stupid mother fuckers,” he snorted with disdain. After listening for a few more seconds, he pressed the red button again, and the alarm cut off, replaced with the sound of wet slaps on the hood of the Impala. Glass shattered, and Jeff could imagine a thick press of bodies trying to get at whoever had been honking the horn.
He strained to hear as much as possible. There was frustration and rage, but more importantly, he heard no one on the porch ready to punch a hole through the front door. Taking a deep breath, he scooped up the baseball bat and put his hand on the deadbolt. Jeff turned his head, allowing himself one last look around the house. He wanted to remember it as it had once been, not what it was about to become. Nodding to reassure himself, he tried to keep his breathing steady as he turned to face the door.
He flipped the deadbolt, then tensed as his hand slipped down to the knob.
“Well, here goes nothing.”
Jeff opened his front door.
Chapter 3
A wall of sound washed over Jeff. The depth of the noise was profound, and he felt as if he were on a stage, the world around him vibrating with excitement. His skin contracted around every hair on his body all at once. The sensation was almost painful as the goose bumps puckered his flesh and the sound jarred his bones.
There was the smell as well. It had been out there before, when he had slithered through the neighborhood, but nothing like this. The stench, the miasma from a hundred infected and befouled bodies, had no discretion as it poured over him, baptizing him in its corruption.
Opening the door hadn’t drawn any attention, but as he let go of the knob, the door slammed against the wall, making a loud thumping noise. He flinched and swung his head toward the mass of stiffened bodies milling around his car.
The mob turned to stare at him. The sounds, the hissing and moaning, stopped as the corrupt shifted their gazes from the car they had been demolishing to face the man standing in the open doorway.
Not one was on the porch. They were busy climbing all over the car, trying to capture the little gremlin inside, terrorizing them with its bleating horn. Some shambled about on the front lawn, but were still a few feet away. Jeff’s heart raced, but he felt as though time had slowed. His vision dimmed, and the dread that had been pouring over him like warm molasses began to evaporate.
Move.
He caught something on the edge of his vision, beyond the crowded front yard. When he tried to follow it with his eyes, seeking out the blur of motion, it was no longer there. But it had been; he was sure. It was something that could move much faster than his neighbors. They were slow and sluggish, but whatever he had seen moved with a fluid grace.
Move!
There it was again, at the back of the crowd but getting closer. He could see glimmers of light flickering between the gaps in the mass of bodies. Whatever was making the shadows dance cut smoothly through the sluggish creatures on Jeff’s lawn as it slid closer. He heard a bloodcurdling scream.
“MOVE!”
He barely recognized his own voice. The fury of the word was jolting, setting him in motion as the mob surged forward, closing the distance to the front door. The first group of neighbors was almost there, close enough that two in front could nearly reach to take ragged swipes at Jeff. They missed as he quickly stepped back inside the house. Their groans merged with the others, but Jeff could have sworn he heard a different tenor to their gurgling cries. They were excited to be this close to someone still warm and breathing.
Turning, he ran to the stairs and jumped onto the couch he had hastily set in front of them, stepping on an armrest and vaulting over it. He stood watching as more bodies poured in through the front door, scratching and clawing at each other as they tried to force their way through the narrow opening. They were a crazed mob, frothing at the mouth and growling at him. The first few were already at the couch, trying to get over, around, or through it. They smashed, clawed, and tore at it, angry that something stood between them and their prey.
“That’s it, you bastards! Come and get me!”
He had to yell to hear himself over the pounding fists and squeals of anticipation. The moans were louder inside. But when Jeff spoke, they seemed to go still, and the noise died down for a moment. He had their complete attention.
He continued to back up the stairs as more bodies crammed into the foyer and spread into the dining and living rooms. He wouldn’t be surprised if there were enough of them to fill the entire first floor. One knocked over the vase on the end table near the door, and it instantly turned to powdered shards underfoot. A few of the ghoulish apparitions appeared to be distracted, wandering toward the dining room table and grabbing at household objects like they were at a rummage sale. The rest, however, continued to crowd around the base of the staircase, staring balefully up at him. They raised their hands, reaching toward Jeff with unimaginable need.
The weaker ones were crushed beneath the churning mass of bodies as they poured over the couch. It looked like some sort of blender in which whatever was dropped into the spinning vortex was sucked to the bottom to be pulverized, but in this case, it was only the smaller forms, children and the mutilated, being sucked beneath the trampling feet.
The first stiff form able to make it past the couch got a shot in the mouth from Jeff’s baseball bat. It was a world-class uppercut that shattered the woman’s jawbone and sent her reeling back into the crowd. She knocked another person flat, and Jeff lost sight of her as she was swallowed into the pulsating mass of bodies. Heedless of her demise, the others pressed against the couch. As three more bodies flopped over it Jeff rushed to the second-floor landing.
With hands shaking and breathing ragged, he pushed the massive bookshelf that stood next to the staircase toward the top step. He had dragged it there a few weeks back as a precautionary measure in case the infected managed to break into the house. In hindsight, it had been foolish to hope that mere furniture could hold back the horde, but he was still glad he had moved it into position.
Jeff felt a white-hot flash of fear at the sound of a loud grunt nearby. The infected were almost to the top of the steps. He responded with his own desperate grunt as the bookshelf teetered over and began its sideways fall down the steps.
The loud crash he had expected was muffled by the wall of flesh on which the heavy cherry bookshelf landed. It smashed into the two leaders of the pack, driving them back into the convulsing crowd. As he watched, Jeff’s eyes widened in surprise. The large, six-foot-tall piece of furniture did not fall to the ground as he had anticipated, but hovered as the monsters
behind it struggled to free themselves of its bulk.
The bodies were piling up behind the bookshelf, and he could see it slowly turning like a heavy door being pushed toward the wall. It had smashed a few of them pretty well but was no deterrent to the rest. They were still coming.
As Jeff turned and ran for the master bedroom, he heard a thud. The bookshelf had finally hit the floor. They had pushed it out of the way and were on the move again.
He screamed a few expletives as encouragement, though none was needed, before slamming the hollow door to his bedroom shut and clicking the button-lock on the knob. As Jeff moved toward his closet, he could hear his former neighbors screaming in frustration from down the hall.
He climbed past the heavy chair he had placed in the closet, then shoved it, forcing the door shut with its bulk. The large walk-in closet went pitch black, and he nearly yelped when the first fist slammed into the bedroom door.
The darkness felt overwhelming, but Jeff knew how little time he had. He felt his way past a minefield of shoes and piles of clothing strewn on the floor. When he found the back wall, he dropped quickly to his knees, setting the baseball bat down as he slid his hands over the carpeted floor. Where is it?
He jumped again as the master bedroom door splintered and broke. The mob was already forcing its way past the shattered remains of the feeble barrier and clambering into the bedroom. They would be at the closet door in less than a minute, but that was all the time Jeff thought he needed, if he could find what he was looking for.
Cursing under his breath, he began tossing shoes out of the way. He knew the spot on the floor was not covered, but could feel panic setting in as he continued his furious search.
Boom!
Jeff let out an involuntary yelp of surprise as the closet door vibrated in its frame. There were excited moans beyond the door, as if his neighbors knew he was caught like a rat in a trap. It would be mere seconds before he was in their grasp.
“How in the world did you know I was in here, you stupid bastards?” Jeff screamed. His words echoed in the confined space and filtered out into the bedroom, where squeals of delight at the sound of his voice cascaded back in on him.
He heard the chair move slightly across the carpet, inching backwards as the press of bodies crammed against the door began forcing their way in. “I mean, Jesus! You fuckers can’t even turn a goddamn doorknob anymore, but you can sniff me out in a matter of seconds? What the hell?” Jeff’s voice cracked, his frayed nerves nearly past the point of no return as he clawed blindly at the carpet.
The chair slid another few inches inward, and with it came a splinter of light from the bedroom. Immediately, Jeff saw what he had been searching for, a few inches to his right. He whimpered in relief as he pulled the hinged door in the floor open.
He’d built the clothing chute shortly after they had moved in, when Ellen realized the laundry room was directly below their closet. It made the transfer of dirty clothes a breeze.
He stared down at the washer and dryer. Breathing a quick sigh of relief when he saw that no one had wandered into the small room off the garage, he swung his legs over and down through the hole.
As Jeff lowered himself through the narrow opening, his unwanted visitors managed to push the chair completely out of the way of the closet door. The first shadowy figure stumbled into the room, falling inward, pushed by another four stiffs behind it. Jeff snatched up his baseball bat as he contorted his hips in an effort to maneuver his midsection through the tight gap in the floor.
His neighbors turned as one toward him, their eyes going wide with excitement as they saw the man trapped in the corner. Their potent smell curdled his stomach. It was like a landfill, stockyard, and mass grave all wrapped up in one. As they reached for him, Jeff screamed and felt something give. The edges of the laundry chute scraped his sides, but as he landed on top of the washing machine, he heard the spring-loaded door on the chute slam shut above his head.
He slid off the washer. There were cries of outrage from above. They were already scraping at the small door, desperate to open it.
The sounds on the first floor were nearly deafening as he stared at the kitchen door. Beyond were those inhuman things…probably more than a hundred. Jeff hoped they were still occupied with their attempts to climb the steps and cram themselves into the various bedrooms on the top floor in a futile effort to find him.
He grabbed the gas can he had left in the room and opened it. The smell of the fuel was pure and intoxicating compared to the noxiously rich smell of death now permeating the house. He splashed the flammable liquid on the walls, watching as it ate at the traces of blood the first set of intruders had left behind. He drained the can, splashing the last bit of it on the ceiling, specifically targeting the hinged door above the washer.
The chute door opened slightly and then slapped back shut. A dark smile crossed Jeff’s lips. He had put a set of tight springs on the sucker to discourage his kids from playing with it. The clumsy bastards upstairs were having a hell of a time trying to get a grip on it, thanks to his handiwork.
Setting the gas can down, he picked up the road flare he had also tossed in the room. Cracking the door leading to the garage, he relaxed slightly as he saw that the side door had not been breached. In fact, it seemed that no one was pounding on it anymore. Wedging his foot in the door to keep it open, he turned to face the kitchen.
There was only one thing left to do.
He pulled the cap off the road flare. It burst to life, startling Jeff with its ferocity. Quickly, he touched it to a rag he had soaked in gasoline that sat on top of the washer and watched it burst into flames. He opened the kitchen door just wide enough to slip the flare through. As soon as he heard the flare hit the floor, he yanked the door shut again.
Snatching up his baseball bat, he used it to slide the flaming rag off the washer and directly into a puddle of gas on the floor.
“The house is all yours, guys. Enjoy it,” he said as he scrambled into the garage. He made sure the metal door was shut tight, knowing it would hold back the flames for a while. As he slid into the minivan, he thought about the rest of the gasoline he had used to drench the house. Along with the propane tanks he had opened in the bedrooms upstairs, it should create one hell of a bang.
Chapter 4
The thin metal garage door gave way faster than Jeff had thought it would. Smashing through, he shot down his driveway and plowed directly into one of his neighbors, who had been making his way toward Jeff’s front door. There was a thud as he connected and then a thump as he ran over the body.
Leaning back, he could see three others closing in on the minivan. Without hesitation, he pressed his foot to the gas and twisted the steering wheel. He hit the next one square and dragged it beneath the rear wheels as he moved onto the street, where he grazed another, sending it tumbling back in the direction from which it had come. Jeff straightened the wheel and flipped the van into drive, giving it gas as he sideswiped the third. He accelerated past the three bodies, then executed a sudden stop, the anti-lock brakes preventing him from skidding to a halt. He looked back and saw that the two stiffs that had bounced off the van were already getting back up while the third was having a rougher time of it. Its left side was completely crushed, but it was still trying to rise, unfazed by the massive trauma the two-ton vehicle had caused its body.
Jeff stared at the maimed creature. The power of the hit had ruptured most of its internal organs, and there were bits of gut spread several feet behind it. He watched in amazement as it continued to struggle, deliberately trying to raise itself with its one useful arm, but much of its body had been crushed and sealed to the pavement. Jeff stared into the side mirror, spellbound by the image as he kept waiting for the movement to stop. It never even slowed. The twisted and damaged form seemed incapable of comprehending that it would be unable to remove itself from the ground without assistance.
The other two were almost to their feet. Jeff gripped the steering wheel tig
hter and flipped the van into reverse again. This time he floored it. The engine roared, and he slammed into the bent forms before they could rise completely. He kept moving backwards and pointed the van at the spot where his first victim lay.
The vehicle jumped slightly, indicating that he had run over the man once again. He hit the brakes and put the van back into gear. This time he moved forward just a little, doing his best to make sure the tire was directly on top of the mangled body.
“Stay down, you freak.” The words sounded nervous to Jeff. He stopped the van and put it in park. A quick check confirmed that the other two would not get up again and that the third was indeed directly beneath him. He heard no more movement.
Shivering uncontrollably, he stared at the dashboard and tried to settle down. He did not want to look up and see how many more ghouls were coming.
Still staring at the speedometer, he felt a thunderous whump. Jeff raised his arm, instinctively shielding his eyes from the bright flash emanating from his house. One of the upper-story windows had blown outward, and shards of glass rained down on the minivan, the yard, and the entire street. The van rocked a bit, and Jeff ducked as he heard the repetitive tinkling of wood and glass bouncing off the roof of the Odyssey.
He had just lifted his head when there was another series of explosions. Bending back over, he let the vibrations roll over him and could have sworn the van slid sideways slightly.
The explosions were muffled, and Jeff guessed it was the propane tanks going up. Two were in bedrooms on the back side of the house. He wondered briefly how the backyard looked.
Slowly raising his head, Jeff stared at his house. As he did, another explosion ripped through it, blowing the front door off its hinges as a giant belch of flame spit from the entrance. Fire was everywhere. Smoke poured out of the garage as another explosion tore a hole out the side of the house where the laundry room had been. Part of the exterior wall smashed into the side of Mark’s house and snapped his split-rail fence into kindling. Jeff watched as the flames billowed toward the sky, his pupils contracting with the vision.
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