by Ian Woodhead
The beast raised its two arms and paused. It then waited until he had gotten closer before it reached down, picked up the soldier, and held him while pushing another limb into his mouth.
Peter ran forwards, opened his arms wide and embraced the beast. He immediately felt its hardened shell, starting to soften. The creature squealed and lashed out with two of its limbs, slicing through both of Peter’s legs. He felt no pain. His legs fell onto the beast’s stomach and ate through its tender belly. Peter pushed, feeling the amour crack like an eggshell. He thrust his arms deep into its large body, it felt like pushing his fingers through soft butter.
He turned his head and saw the soldiers starting the get up. The officer ran over to him. Peter felt the beast beneath him finally stop moving. “Kill me, sir. Please?”
The man raised his gun and fired.
Chapter Eighteen
His sword cut through the remaining dead thing that, like its companions, made the mistake of thinking that Patrick would be an easy meal. He wiped the black slime off the blade, wincing as the extra movement almost opened up the two bite wounds on the top of his arm. It was about time that he inspected the damage.
Patrick jumped over the three bodies sprawled across the pedestrian zone and ran over to the open doorway of an office building. He peered through the thick glass and saw nothing moving. He hurried inside, ran across the foyer carpet, and leaned over the checking in desk. “Hello?” shouted Patrick. “Is there anybody in here?” His voice sounded so strange to his ears. He realised that this was the first time he had said anything since Allison had left him at the house.
He lay the sword down on the desk and carefully peeled his shirtsleeve up his shoulder, gritting his teeth in pain when he found the dried blood had cemented the fabric to the wounds. Patrick pulled, yelling out when the material ripped open the wounds. “Fucking hell,” he snarled, watching his blood drip onto the light blue carpet. “This isn’t right.”
The fact that the wounds hadn’t knitted together worried him, his previous bites only took a few minutes to heal. Since leaving the comfort of the island, eight of those dead fuckers had sunk their teeth into his poor body. He made his way over to a black leather couch next to a lift and sat down, sighing with pleasure. It was time to accept the fact that he’d pushed himself too much. Running around this dead city desperately looking for fountains and fighting zombies was not good for him.
He was completely exhausted. No wonder, his body was rebelling against him. “You need to take it easy, boy,” he muttered. Peter looked out of the window and watched another dead thing pass by the open door. He silently cursed when he remembered he’d left his sword over on the desk. The thing just shuffled on by, without even glancing in his direction.
Patrick reluctantly left the comfortable seat and rushed over the collect his sword. He looked over in desire at the seat and shook his head. If he sat back in that, Patrick would never get up again. “Come on, boy. Stop pushing yourself.”
This was getting him nowhere. At this rate, his broken and bitten body would fail before he got anywhere near this stupid fountain. Patrick headed back over to the chair, but he walked past it and headed for the stairs next to the lift. If he was going to rest up, at least he could do it somewhere a little less open.
Allison’s last words echoed through Patrick’s head as he climbed the stairs. He was missing something regarding her message. Something that his exhausted brain couldn’t grasp. Patrick stopped on the landing and looked out of the window, watching a flock of pigeons fight over Patrick’s last meal of peaches and carrots. He’d been eating the contents from his last tins when those three dead things attacked him.
How had those birds managed to survive all these years? Somehow, the image of zombies feeding dried bread to pigeons just wouldn’t gel. He remembered his mum taking him to the park near where they lived when he was a kid, and those vicious buggers would dive bomb anyone stupid enough to eat a sandwich or pasty. Patrick then felt a huge grin spread across his face when he pictured the park’s fountain opposite the boating lake. “You truly are an idiot, Patrick,” he said, laughing. “The council told you to go home as well.”
Patrick ran back down the stairs, finding his energy levels boosted by the revelation that he was now so close to meeting back up with his Allison. The council must have that fountain, everything fit. His old home wasn’t that far from here, perhaps twenty minutes away if he hurried. She might even be waiting for him right now.
As he ran out of the office, Patrick tried once more to work out exactly why they were supposed to go their separate ways, and as before, he found no reason whatsoever. He gazed back at the three dead things, thinking about how easy he had taken them out. Since leaving her, Patrick had lost count of the amount that he’d cut down, but he knew he had reached double figures over an hour ago.
He slowed down when the bulk of a red bus blocked the road. Allison’s prophetic warning ran through his mind when he saw over a dozen corpses slumped against the wall of a bus shelter on the over side of the road. They were all in a line, as if they were waiting for that vehicle to magically turn back onto its wheels and drive up to the shelter. As he watched, two more corpses joined the queue. “This is just madness.”
He was annoyed when he saw the bus shelter on this side of the road was full of the things as well; there was no other way around. Patrick had no choice but to go through the bastards. He ran over to the back of the bus, counting the things in both shelters. The one on the left contained more, but there was more room for him to swing his sword.
His decision was made up for him as they all started to emerge from both shelters. “This is mad, they couldn’t have detected me already.” Patrick then remembered he’d not covered up his arm wound, they must have detected the fresh blood. “You fucking idiot,” he whispered. Patrick hurriedly rolled his sleeve back down and raised his sword. Their collective groaning grew louder; he turned around and saw a dozen more coming up behind him.
“This isn’t fair,” he gasped. “I can’t kill all of them!” He ran forward and thrust the tip of the sward through the eye of a middle-aged woman, still clutching her battered handbag. As he pull the blade out of her face, Patrick saw even more of the things were climbing out from under cars and through building windows. Two old men even walked out of the office building he was hiding in. He stood no chance against their vast numbers.
Patrick swung the sword, slicing through the neck of another middle-aged man before running back to the bus and climbing through the broken window. He climbed up using the seats and poles, and pushed his body through a side window to the top of the bus. Patrick ran along the body towards the cabin. “Fuck you, dead things,” he growled. “You ain’t going to get me that easily.” There weren’t that many zombies directly in front of the bus but still enough to make him doubt his chances.
The thought of just stopping where he was and hoping they’d just all go away ran through his head. They didn’t have a chance of reaching him up here. Patrick then imagined thousands of those dead things crushed against the sides of the bus with more of them climbing over the bodies, desperately trying to reach his tender flesh. He gulped and charged across the bus, running between the windows over the two floors.
Seven shuffling corpses were pressed against the front of the cab. He swung his sword in a low arc, the blade slicing through flesh. Patrick jumped over the damaged bodies, acutely aware that each one was turning as his feet passed over them. He dropped the sword before he landed on a patch of wet grass. The momentum carried him forward, moving him away from his blade. He grabbed a lamppost to stop him and spun around. Three of them were now between him and the sword. “I’m sorry, sword. I can’t risk it.” He turned and sprinted along the road, dodging two more dead things shuffling towards him.
This was just unreal, where were they all coming from? They cannot all have smelled the blood leaking from his shoulder could they? Three more had just crawled out from underneath a delive
ry van and were heading right for him. Patrick knew there were at least another dozen behind him. Without his sword, he didn’t stand a chance. Patrick knew that he couldn’t keep running, his body was needed rest; that initial adrenalin burst had gone ten minutes ago.
He charged forward, pushing two of them out of the way. The other one dug its jagged nails into his other shoulder as Patrick ran past it. He choked back a scream and darted into the first open doorway, yelping in terror when he saw just how many of the things were now heading towards this building.
Both his arms were now on fire and he knew his legs were about to go at any moment. Nevertheless, if he didn’t find something to block this doorway, his aches wouldn’t matter anymore. Three of the things were almost at the door already. He turned to the side, grabbed a magazine rack next to him and used the wire stack to push them back.
He ran further into the shop, yelping at the sound of the plate glass breaking; the combined weight of a dozen of the things had smashed the front window. They all tumbled through into the shop, quickly untangling their legs and arms before standing up. Patrick jumped over the counter and ran into the back room. He saw a set of stairs to his right and ran up them.
He heard them crashing about on the floor below him. His fevered mind tried to get to grips with his situation, the only thread running through his mind that Patrick was delaying the inevitable. He was the only human left alive in the city and every dead thing here wanted a piece of him.
He ran over to the window and groaned at the view of literally hundreds of them out in the streets. He hadn’t seen so many bodies for years. They can’t all be trying to get him, that just didn’t make any sense. Patrick shivered, watching a dark cloud pass in front of the sun. The things below then all stopped moving and started to moan in unison. Patrick watched them all slowly raise their heads towards that black cloud.
“What the fuck is going on?” He hurried across to the stairway, ran halfway down the stairs, and leaned over the banister. The dead things in the shop were all pressing their foul bodies against the walls, as if they were trying to hide. Patrick ran back up and over to the window.
“Oh, you have got to the fucking kidding me!” That wasn’t a normal cloud. It looked like a vast swarm of insects raining down. His brain went into meltdown when they got closer.
They looked like tiny armoured foetus’s, there were thousands of them all heading straight for the dead things. He ran back into the room as a group of them cut away from the main group and headed for the shop. Patrick ran into the next room and slammed the door shut before pulling covers off a single bed and dropping them against the gap at the bottom of the door. Several of them slammed into the door. He prayed that none of them tried to chew their way through the wood.
Patrick’s eyes locked on the keyhole, watching as one of the things tried to squeeze its tiny body through the hole. He raised his boot and slammed it against the thing’s body, snarling in satisfaction at the sound of its bones crunching against the sole of his boot.
The noise from their beating wings lessened. He crouched down and used his fingernail to clean out the gunk from the keyhole. From his limited view, Patrick saw several of them flying back out of the window. “Those bastards said nothing about hiding from a swarm of insects.” He moved his knee out of the way and gingerly picked up a piece of the thing that had tried to squeeze through the keyhole and brought it up to his face.
“Holy fuck,” he muttered. This was no insect; the thing had a human-like head. “This is so wrong.” Patrick looked through the keyhole again; he saw nothing moving out there and all he heard was his own shallow breathing, even the massed moans from all the dead things were absent.
He quietly pushed the door open, getting ready to slam it in case anything was waiting for him. Patrick took a deep breath and opened it fully, then stepped back out into the room. There was still no noise or any sign of movement. He walked over to the window and peered out.
A thick black river of wet filth flowed along the road. It took a moment to realise that foul smelling stuff down there was all that was left of the dead things. Silent dread settled on him like a thick blanket. Patrick bent down and picked up one of the creatures that had crashed into the wall. This one was intact. The full terror of what these things could do hit him like an express train. If this swarm ever found their way to their island, they’d strip it bare of life in minutes.
He looked out of the window again and saw that they’d even eaten every scrap of vegetation. “What am I supposed to do now?”
“We kill their mother!”
Patrick spun around, saw Allison stood in the doorway, and ran into her open arms. “Oh God, oh God!” He wrapped his arms around her waist and squeezed her tight. “I thought I’d never see you again,” he sobbed.
“And I told you not to worry, and we’d meet back up in a few hours.” She pulled herself out of his embrace. “Babes, you went into the wrong shop.”
“What?”
Allison pulled him over to the window and pointed to the building next door. Our Lady said you would go in that one.” She kissed him and giggled. It’s a pet shop. There’s a huge fountain right at the back, next to the aquariums.”
“How was I supposed to know that?” he cried. “Oh God. Babes, I can’t take much more of this. I want to go home.”
“It’s nearly done, Patrick, it’s almost over.” She pulled him into her embrace. “Our journey is almost at an end. Come on, I want you to meet someone; just don’t freak, okay?”
Patrick held her hand tight as she pulled him over to the doorway. He stopped and blinked in disbelief at the sight of a heavily muscled naked humanoid stood at the bottom of the stairs staring back at him. “What the fuck is that?” he hissed when he caught sight of the extra limbs.
The creature smiled up at them before rushing out of the building.
“Come on”” she shouted, pulling him down the stairs, “He’s sensed the last one!” Allison turned around. “If we don’t stop her, she’ll lay again.”
He allowed her to drag him out into the empty street. The stench rising from the remains of the dead things made his eyes water. “That is vile. I can’t breathe,” he gasped out.”
“Look over there.”
Patrick followed her pointed finger and saw another monstrosity bearing down on them.
“Can you feel it inside you?”
He shook his head, “Feel what?”
“You’re like me too. Where’s the sword, Patrick, you need to cut it down.”
He looked at her in panic. “Nobody said that I had to keep it!”
“You have got to be joking, Patrick! I told you to keep it. Oh fuck!” she screamed. “Our Lady guaranteed me that you wouldn’t lose it.”
Patrick saw the crimson nightmare rushing towards them at high speed. “This is so fucked up, where’s that other freak gone?”
“Don’t you get it? This is what you’re supposed to do. You need that sword. He’s gone. Raphael only wanted to see your face so he wouldn’t eat you by mistake.”
Patrick spun around and dragged her towards the overturned bus. He spotted the sword right where he had dropped it. He snatched it up and spun around. The monster charged towards Patrick. He shook as the approaching monster opened its mouth and bellowed. It opened its arms wide.
He backed away, suddenly aware of its intentions.
The bastard would drive those razor sharp talons on all four of its limbs into the sides of his body. Patrick moaned helplessly when he saw the arms getting within striking distance.
The creature then staggered back when a large stone bounced off the side of its head.
“Now, Patrick!” screamed Allison, “Kill it.”
He screamed himself, remembering his first kill on that beach. Patrick saw it trying to recover its balance, and he ran forwards and slammed the sword deep into the creature’s neck. The thing’s legs just collapsed from under it, and it fell to the floor.
“Is that it?
”
She nodded. “They crippled their prey with thought; we’re immune to it, the poor thing didn’t stand a chance.” Allison took his hand. “Our part is done, my darling.”
“What about the flying thing though?”
Allison took a deep breath, “Our Lady told me not to worry about those. They are the problem for the others in the city.”
Chapter Nineteen
Captain John Davis pressed his back tight against the side of the stone building and peered around the corner, watching with interest as the walking corpse crawled out from under the car.
His colleague, Sergeant Haynes raised his assault rifle.
“Wait,” he hissed. Davis found this new development very interesting. He had never seen a corpse move so quickly. He was confident that he’d still be able to out walk the vile abomination; even so, for a zombie, it was going at a fair speed. “It’s almost as if it’s running from something.” He scanned the nearby building, hoping to fuck that another one of those red monsters wasn’t around.
Several more corpses emerged from buildings along the street, including several that his men had reported free of infestation. They joined the single body and shuffled away from their position. Davis raised his own gun and ran over to the car, checking the underside before crouching behind it.
“I don’t like this one bit,” he muttered.
The Sergeant joined him. “Reminds me of the pied piper tale. Sir, we have already exceeded out initial targets. We have more than enough wealth stored to keep us comfortable for the rest of our lives.”
“Are you suggesting we leave?” Davis searched the man’s eyes, looking for signs of anxiety. “This is the only chance we’ll get, Danny. You know that.” He turned back around, watching the corpses slowly trundle along the road. As far as he could see, these things leaving were an unexpected bonus. There were four more banks on this road. With those out of the way, they’d be done in record time.