When There's No More room In Hell: A Zombie Novel

by Luke Duffy

  The healthy smile, the glittering shining eyes, and that soft plump flawless flesh, was something he craved.

  He desired it more than anything, to do what with it, he didn't know, but he did know that he couldn't have it. Somehow he knew the image in front of him wasn't real.

  The others were constantly there, outside in the street, staggering about and tripping over and into things, forever groaning and wailing. Andy never reacted to any of it. He just remained seated, staring directly ahead of him, watching the slowly increasing ooze spread across the floor beneath him.

  He would have stayed there forever, but something stirred in the distance.

  There was a noise; a strange noise that he was unused to. It was a deep rumbling and it became more audible in his ears as it came closer. He could hear a blaring horn too and hoots and hollers of voices followed by a screech and the crash of glass shattering.

  The voices were different from the others like him, and it caught his attention and snapped something to life inside him. His instincts made him want to go to the noise, to be part of it, to consume it.

  Andy’s head raised, his eyes widening and moving from side to side and his mouth opening and closing, gnashing his teeth together. He turned in the direction of the door and saw figures, grey and dull, waterlogged and wretched, all staggering in the same direction, moaning and reaching out with their clasping hands ahead of them.

  For the first time in a month, he forced his body up and away from the couch. His feet slipped with a squeak in the sticky mess on the floor and he barely kept his balance. He saw more of the lifeless figures staggering past the large window in front of him and he felt the urge to join them. He reached out and a rasped moan came from his parched throat as he moved to the door.

  He didn't try to walk through the glass this time, something reminded him that he just needed to force his way through the door and he would be out in the open and able to move toward the noise that had now become even louder as the rumble echoed between the tall buildings around him.

  In the street he paused and looked up, expecting to see the source of the sound above him, around the roof tops. He looked back at the other figures and followed their line of travel with his gaze. There was something further up the street. A large crowd was gathering and the noise was more distinct now. The voices were more animated, more vibrant.

  He turned and staggered along with the others.

  Other shambling bodies came from all directions. They poured into the main street from side roads, alleyways and shop fronts. To Andy’s left he saw the smashed window front of a large designer clothing shop. The rotting grey figure of a woman stumbled and fought past the mannequins, batting them out of her way as she headed for the open street. As she stepped through the shattered window, she lost her balance and crashed to the ground. A large piece of jagged glass was dislodged from above and it fell like a guillotine, severing her legs. She glanced behind her at the space where her lower limbs had been for a moment and then back to the source of the noise and began to drag herself along the bare concrete with her hands.

  Andy’s joints creaked with stiffness and it was difficult for him to keep walking in a straight line. One knee seemed more lubricated than the other and that leg was able to take longer strides. He began to veer off to one side, colliding with others that were headed in the same direction. He stopped and turned to face the sound again and resumed his slow march forward. Again and again he had to stop before he walked into one of the building fronts on the opposite side of the street, and readjusted his position to aim him in the right direction.

  As he closed in on the mass of bodies in front of him, he saw something that stopped his eyes in their tracks and he became completely entranced by it. Above the heads and outstretched arms of the others in front of him, he could see the flat top of something. He recognised it as something that could move and he used to sit in.

  It was a van. On top of the van was a figure, but it wasn't like the others in front of him. This figure moved differently. It was fast, agile and most of all, it had bright, healthy, pink flesh. His mouth opened and his black rotten tongue flopped from the open cavern and lolled to the side of his chin. He began to gurgle and groan as he reached up with his hands and quickened his pace toward it.

  He reached the first of the others that blocked his way but he was still too far from the thing he desired so much. His whole body and instincts were set on reaching his goal. With a snarl, he looked down at the backs of the bodies in front of him and began to grab and tear at them, pulling them out of his way as he pushed into the writhing throng.

  With each yank and tug, he was closer to the side of the van and eventually his hand slapped the cold hard side of the vehicle. He pounded at it, moaning and growling as he stared up, catching the occasional glimpse of the fast moving figure on top. The crowd around him was wailing and screaming and the noise buzzed in his ears.

  He could hear the noise the fast moving figure made. It was nothing like the noises Andy made, and they excited him and made him beat the side of the van all the harder as the figure dashed to and fro.

  Andy could hear more voices coming from his left, possibly from inside the building that the van seemed to be pushed up against. They all sounded lively compared to the lifeless drones of the figures around him that he had listened to for so long. Now he was hearing something that made him feel something and he wanted it.

  More of the fast moving, healthy figures jumped onto the roof of the van as they came out of the building. They headed to the front and climbed down into the cab, high up and out of reach. The crowd erupted with excited wails and shrieks as the spectacle of four energetic and living people darted before them.

  The van began to rock with the combined weight of the mass and the voices of the living changed. They seemed different now, higher pitched and urgent, but the sounds caused the crowd to pulsate and push at the van even harder.

  Andy heard a sudden roar as the van tried to move. The wheels were spinning and churning up the bodies behind it as it tried to pull away. It couldn't move. There were too many bodies all around it and it wasn't long until the door at the front flew open and a figure darted out and into the mass. A large portion of the crowd swayed in that direction, leaving Andy in an open area, staring directly at the door when another living person jumped out and ran straight into him.

  He closed his arms around the person and they both toppled to the ground. Andy was underneath and he could feel the form on top of him trying to pull away. Andy pulled harder, he didn't want to lose what he had wanted so much and he brought his head up, close to the soft underside of the face. He began to bite at the air between him and the fleshy neck but the person was pulling against him and trying to flee.

  More of the lurching, moaning crowd closed in around them and the weight began to push down on them both. For a moment another feeling – fear – raced through Andy. They wanted to take his prize away from him.

  He opened his mouth wide and clamped down hard on the figure’s neck as it squirmed on top of him. A high-pitched sound emitted from its throat, ringing in his ears and causing Andy to tighten his grip as he pulled his head away, ripping at the flesh he clamped in his mouth.

  A gush of warm fluid flowed over his face. It ran into his eyes, over his skin, into his nostrils. It ran into his mouth. His dry throat felt the sensation of the life-giving fluid. A moment of serenity gripped him. The screams of the struggling figure above him faded into a distant sound as he clung on and began chewing, savouring the sensation of the warm and tender flesh in his mouth as the body above him writhed and shuddered in his arms.

  He swallowed as more blood poured over him. By now the body above had stopped struggling, but it was being tugged and jostled as more wanted to experience the same thing that Andy had. He felt it being wrenched away from him and he gripped onto it and pulled his head close again, taking a large bite from the shoulder. The blood didn't flow as much now; it seeped and oozed onto
him and into his mouth as he chewed.

  His lips smacked as he ate. His tongue slurped and he made gratified groans and murmurs as he swallowed and closed in for another bite.

  In his euphoria, his grip loosened and the body was dragged off and away from him.

  He moaned and reached out, scrambling to his knees and crawling after it. To his left there were more screams and cries similar to what he had heard from the body that landed on top of him. There were more people, but he couldn't see them. What he could see was the body he had bit into just ahead of him, being dragged and torn apart, leaving a long smear of intestines and blood along the ground that others fell upon and fought over as they consumed the remains.

  Andy climbed to his feet and charged ahead, knocking figures away from him. He reached the body and dropped down with all his weight onto the limbless torso on the ground, and began chewing at the face and neck, digging his fingers into the eye sockets and clawing at the cheeks until there were gouges of flesh missing.

  He ate and chewed his way through the tendons, veins and bone. Eventually, he scurried off to one side with just the head in his hands. He propped himself against a wall and sat eating mouthfuls of soft succulent flesh until there was nothing but the skull left. He was smeared in fresh blood, his face and neck red with it, his hands covered in tiny slivers of flesh and tendon.

  When there was no more to be had, he discarded the jawless pink skull, the brain still intact inside.

  After awhile, the others moved away when they realised there was nothing left. Dried blood stained the entire surface around the stalled van. Body parts picked clean, lay scattered all around - a skull here, half a ribcage there.

  A child, its skin pale and waxy, dressed in what had once been a pretty summer dress, passed him as he sat, leaning against the wall still. It was carrying the lower half of a leg, stripped of all flesh and the tibia and fibula and foot bones were held together by nothing more than sinews.

  Flies swarmed the area, the steady hum and the occasional moan from the others was all that could be heard. There was nothing to make Andy want to move, but he stood and looked around, eyeing the others like him.

  The little girl stopped in front of him and looked up into his eyes. For a fleeting moment, Andy felt sorrow. As he watched her walk away, he somehow knew that she wasn't supposed to be the way she was. The thought forced him to turn and study his reflection in the nearest shop window again.

  Something inside him had changed. He looked at the child in the dress, then at the remains from the feast around him. Then he raised his hands to his face and studied the shrivelled and damaged skin. He caught sight of himself in the reflection of a shop window again and the memory of the picture in his shop flashed before him.

  He glanced around one more time, a low whimper and a huff escaping his freshly lubricated vocal cords, then he shuffled away toward the outer edge of town.

  30

  Marcus sat in his seat in his SUV, staring out of the windscreen over the grassy hills and rolling countryside of Northern France in front of him. It looked like a patchwork quilt of different shades of greens and browns, broken by dry stone walls and high privet hedges. Here and there, he could see the outline of the cottages and farm buildings that dotted the land. It was beautiful, Marcus thought. The sun was beginning to set and it cast its golden rays over the scene, creating the impression that he was looking at an old sepia photograph from many years ago.

  He reached onto the dashboard and grabbed the handset to the Codan. “Steve, Marcus, you there, bro?”

  He waited then he heard the voice of his brother coming through the speaker. “Yeah, Marcus, how’s it going? Are you close to the coast yet?”

  “Not far,” Marcus replied. “We've gone static for the night, to the East of Calais and West of Cassel, about twenty miles from the coast.” He paused and thought, realising that Steve was probably looking at the Ordinance Survey maps that are measured in the metric system. “That's about thirty kilometres, give or take. Not sure what we will do once we get there, but I think we’ll have to ditch the vehicles and try and find a boat. It’s only about twenty miles or so across the Channel to Dover, so it shouldn’t be a problem. If all else fails, we’ll swim if we have to.”

  Steve laughed at the other end. “Yeah, Marcus, I don’t doubt that you're mad enough to try it.”

  “After all we've been through, Steve, we couldn't give up now. Home is so close, I can taste it. Speaking of which, how’s the food? Is that Karen lady still working miracles in the kitchen? It feels like we've been living off rations and tinned food for a lifetime.”

  “Yeah, the food is good, bro. We can organize a banquet for when you return. There's still plenty of food at the moment, but I think we are gonna have to look at going out for more eventually. We have time yet to plan stuff like that and look at the options. In the meantime, make sure you get here in one piece.”

  Marcus looked to Sini, a grim expression on his face, and then keyed the handset again. “Yeah well, are you in the radio room alone, Steve?”

  “No, Jake is here with me. Jennifer will be here in a minute or so.”

  Marcus felt a sense of urgency and sat forward in his seat, keen to say what he needed to before Jennifer was able to hear. “Okay, listen, Steve, if she turns up at all while I'm speaking, cut me off.”

  There was a pause, then a confused sounding reply, “Uh, okay, Marcus. What's up? Is everything okay there?”

  “Not sure, bro.” Marcus sighed. “We've been seeing a lot of bad signs lately and I think we’re in an area controlled by some rogue militia. We tried to backtrack, but it seems we’re pretty much surrounded. I dunno if they know we’re here or if they're even interested in us, but it could get rough. I just thought you should know mate.”

  “Yeah, cheers bro. It’s best to be in the picture, even if it’s a shitty one.” Steve sounded quietly worried. Then his voice was back to normal as he put on a facade for Marcus’ wife, “Ah, here’s Jen.”

  “Hey there, doll face.” Marcus said as he smiled. “How are you and the boys today? This time tomorrow, I’ll be speaking to you from within the same country.”

  Her voice was soft over the speaker, “I can’t wait to see you, Marcus. I miss you so much. Every day the boys are hounding me, asking me how much longer it will be before you're here. They need their Dad. All they have here is a bunch of retards to look up to.”

  A round of ‘hey’ could be heard from her end as she was reprimanded by Steve and Jake.

  It was good for Marcus to hear them all laughing.

  After speaking to Jennifer for a while, he climbed from his vehicle and sat down next to Stu. Marcus didn't like having to tell his brother of possible danger ahead of them, but he needed to know, just in case things went wrong as they moved closer to the coast. At least that way, Steve would have an idea of what might have happened.

  “How is the missus then, buddy?” Stu asked as he handed him a steaming, half full cup of coffee.

  Marcus shrugged and smiled at his friend. “Ah you know, the usual.”

  Stu could see Marcus was troubled and that his mind was elsewhere.

  “You really think we’re in for trouble? I mean, we haven’t seen anyone. Granted, there's been plenty of signs, but maybe they've moved on.” He was doing his best to sound optimistic.

  Marcus bit his lip as he sat, leaning against a tree and staring at the ground. “I don’t think they've moved on, Stu. Looks to me like whoever is in this area, they're very territorial, well armed, and well organised.

  “Think about it, we've seen very few infected in this area. Someone has cleared them out. Did you notice anything about the bodies we've seen, the ones hanging from trees and street lights? Some of them were soldiers. French, German, even British troops had been through here, and they weren’t travelling together.” He glanced up and swatted at a fly that buzzed around his face. “They were in different stages of decomposition, meaning they were caught at different t
imes. So, whoever is here is here to stay and they see this area as their turf.”

  Stu nodded. He realised that Marcus was right and when he thought back, he could see that it was obvious.

  “Well, it won’t be the first lot of trouble we've run into. It’s just a case of fighting through, we’re well armed too and we have a good crew here.”

  Marcus shook his head. “I don’t think it'll be as simple as that, mate. They have armour. Those tanks that we passed, the ones burnt out and full of holes? They were Leopard 2’s, Stu, German tanks. I remember from my days in the Anti-Tank platoon, we were always told that, ‘the only thing that can destroy a Leopard 2 is, another Leopard 2.’”

  Stu nodded again, remembering being told the same thing. “Yeah, I heard that too. Well, whatever they have, they're effective. They'll cut through our SUVs like tin cans then.”

  “That's my worry. We will have to look at the maps and see what routes we can find. We’ll travel the roads least likely to be defended. Hopefully, they’re a mobile unit, constantly on the hunt and might not be around in this neck of the woods tomorrow.

  “But if they're as organised as I suspect, they will have observation posts and communications everywhere to dominate the ground. And mobile units acting as rapid reaction forces, placed in positions where they can deploy to any given grid in their area of responsibility.”

  They moved back to where the rest of the team sat huddled around as they ate.

  As was the custom, no one made a hot drink that was intended for just themselves, it was always passed round so that everyone had a drink from the ‘communal brew’.

  Ian passed his cup across to Sini who took it in his hands as he looked up and asked, “What is it?”

  “It’s tea, NATO standard,” Ian replied.

  Sini’s brow creased as he stared at the hot steaming drink before looking up again. “Serbia was never a part of NATO.”