I Dream of Zombies (Book 2): Haven

by Vickie Johnstone

  Yet there is one other and he waits here in the obscurity, quiet as a mouse, as enduring as time itself. He is here, close. She knows. And she runs.

  Laughter spills out of the walls, hurtling like a child without a care in the world. It stops her in her tracks and she spins on the spot, searching for the origin of it. “Where are you? Who are you? What are you?” The darkness fails to answer and she sighs.

  Behind her, she hears the thing approaching, forcing her terror to awake once more. All around her the very walls begin to tremble and a tremor surges through, altering this stage. She hurtles down the corridor as it snakes into a tunnel of inky black, her feet sinking into spongy, warm earth. She sinks into it, relishing its warmth; the only source of it in this icy world.

  Pausing for a second, she spies his shape looming; its jerky movements; relentless, forever. Seeping out of the cracks in the walls the laughter seeks her out, pressing against her eardrums, plummeting through the silence, enveloping everything. But then she remembers how it only used to be a slight echo in the distance. When did it become so loud? When did she recall that it used to be so small a sound?

  The laughter floods in waves; almost deafening, it rises; the tumult filling her ears. Raising her hands, she shuts out the noise, but then she hears him. “This is a warning. You must heed my warning.”

  He is here.

  Everywhere, she searches with her eyes for the source of the laughter. It is hiding, concealing itself. “Why do you hide?” she asks the walls, impenetrable and deaf to her question. It lies beyond them. The laughter is there. Remembering the dead thing behind her, she turns, not fearing it anymore, knowing in that second that it is only a dream, a nightmare; this thing she conjured up to plague herself. Almost laughing, she focuses. He is still there, stumbling blindly, addicted to her scent.

  Beneath this incongruous laughter, she wills her mind to think. She can no longer recall the time when this frightened her, this man in the distance; this thing that used to be human. Dead! She wishes him deader than dead, not this rejuvenated form that will never cease its pursuit. But fear? No, she no longer trembles before it.

  Spying a metal pole propped against the wall, she heaves it off the ground and makes haste. The thing cannot outrun her, she now understands, but if the tunnel ends she will be forced to fight it. This time it will neither rip the muscle from her back nor grind its teeth into her neck for she will stop it.

  Bouncing, echoing, diving, roaring, the laughter leads the way, but she wishes for quiet. This must end. She must find its lair, the secret place where it hides. The tunnel turns and she swerves with it. The earth beneath her feet transforms into water, warm and comforting. For a second she thinks of the safety of the womb, but then she grips the pole and tries to hurry forward, turning once more with the constant eeling motion of the tunnel.

  Footsteps behind, to the side, ahead, to the other side…

  “This is a warning. This will be the last warning before the end.”

  Where is he, this man who speaks? Bewildered, she stops and turns, only to be confronted by nothing. A shadow in the distance reveals the dead man walking, but he is far back. Ahead hovers the dark and she rises to the challenge, dragging her legs into it.

  It stops, this laughter, only for the briefest of seconds before spilling forth again. The tunnel forks and she follows the sound to the left, the wrong way; not to the right where her senses tell her to go. Somehow she knows it is time to leave, time to wake, yet she will not allow herself. Not now.

  Stubbing her toes, she stops. Mighty stone steps rise up from the ground before her. Forcing one foot in front of the other, she ascends them evenly, willing herself to remain in this world. Just for a while. She has to know. It lives here, the laughter, and she will find it. Darkness looms and though struggling, she wills herself not to wake. Not yet. Not yet.

  “This is a warning. It is for you. You must listen. Do not turn away for the time is coming. They will rise from the dead, dooming your species to extinction. Your reality will fall unless you stop it.”

  “How?” she asks the bodiless voice.

  Silence is her only answer.

  Then laughter ripples around this square room.

  “Where am I? Who are you?”

  These sheer walls stretch up endlessly and the floor feels solid, like tile. A cold chill drifts upwards. She moves her arms and they seem to leave sparks in the air, as if the tiniest fireworks were dancing along her skin. Electricity; she can feel it. Laughter. More laughter. She spins around.

  A figure in the dark. Motionless, he has his back to the wall, his face hidden. She peers closer. His back shakes. He is the one laughing. It is only one. But no, he moves to the side and there is another in front of him. Stepping out, they stand together, their expressions concealed, their identities not for her to see.

  “Who are you?” she asks again, pleading silently with the gloom not to take her yet. She has to know. The pole scrapes along the hard ground and she senses they have heard her.

  Whispers. Whispers in this inky black penetrate. Words she has never heard before, spoken in a language unrecognisable in a tone so curious. What is this? Chilled, she takes a step back, but they have heard; they know. As one, their heads begin to turn; a grisly clicking, flicking through the soundless stream.

  “No!”

  Her heart leaps in her chest. Before they set their eyes upon her, something strong spins her around to face in the other direction.

  “No! None must look upon them. They are the end. This is a warning. You must heed it. And you must not tell.”

  Suddenly cold in this impenetrable dark, she sees him for the barest fraction of a second.

  ***

  On the bed, her body jolted to life, casting her out of its placid confinement. The spasm woke her. Coughing, she gasped for air.

  “Ellen, I am right here. Can you hear me?”

  Hearing Rita’s voice and the familiar hum of a machine, Ellen opened her eyes to the real world; the one beyond her dreams. Her throat felt dry and she struggled to swallow.

  “Don’t try to move, honey,” said Rita as she set about removing the bands and sensors from her body and face.

  Ellen focused on the nurse’s face before moving her eyes slowly to the white walls. Her memory whirred with a multitude of images. She had seen him, seen them all.

  Rita walked swiftly away and returned within a minute. “Water,” she stated simply.

  Raising herself in the bed, Ellen leaned back against the headboard and took the glass of water. Sipping it slowly, she nodded to the nurse and smiled a little. “How long was I asleep?” she asked.

  “Over an hour more than usual, but I’d need to check exactly how long,” Rita replied. “We kept expecting you to wake. The chart was going crazy, phenomenal really. What did you dream?”

  Ellen was about to speak when the door to the observation room opened. Doctor Grice strode out, closely followed by Owen. Ellen noticed their expressions lit up and glowing, expectant, as if they knew.

  “A record so far,” remarked the doctor. “Ellen, you did very well. Very well indeed.”

  Ellen sipped her water, trying not to recoil every time Doctor Grice spoke. She detested him, but fearing it unwise for him to suspect it, she forced herself to meet his eyes. “Rita said it was over an hour longer,” she said cheerfully.

  Owen nodded. “It was as if you were willing yourself to stay asleep. Is that what happened?”

  Ellen remained quiet, thinking. What if she told them? How would they react? Would it lead to even more tests, more questions? If they knew she could act willingly in her dreams, where would it lead? What would they ask her to do next? She had already realised they were only interested in her answers, not her wellbeing. This experiment would never end. For all she knew, they had no intention of ending her nightmares; all they had wanted to do so far was prolong them in order to discover answers… the laughing man. Well, there were two of them. She knew that now. Alon
g with one other, who had prevented her from looking upon them, but why?

  “Ellen?”

  She suddenly noticed Doctor Grice perched on the end of her bed. Owen and Rita hovered at the side. They were all waiting patiently for her. Only she held the key for them. Only she could set them free from waiting. She remembered the last words of the man in her dream – what if she did not have permission to tell?

  “Sorry,” Ellen replied at length. “I feel drained.”

  “What happened?” the doctor pushed.

  “Nothing,” she replied. “Nothing new. I heard the laughter again, but I could not find the source of it. I still cannot tell who it is – if it’s one voice or more.”

  She watched his face crumble. Disappointment strode across it.

  “I’m sorry. I tried.”

  “Don’t worry, Ellen,” he replied. “We will get there in the end. We will stop these nightmares.”

  As if you really want to. You just want me to continue having them and keep me here every night just so you can find an answer, but what if none exists…?

  Doctor Grice’s words cut into her thoughts: “Did you see or hear the man who warned you before?”

  She shook her head slowly. “No, he wasn’t there,” she lied.

  Saturday, 14

  Martinez, Billy, Eric and Tommy were seated on the floor of the latter’s bathroom, wedged uncomfortably into the small space with their knees drawn up to their chins. At the other side of the door, Bob scratched incessantly at the bottom with his paws, interspersed by the odd, low bark.

  “Well, this is cosy,” Billy remarked.

  “I thought it was the safest place to talk. I’d run water too, but we’d probably have the water monitor knocking at the door,” Tommy replied.

  Eric nodded. “You know there really is one of those,” he said, and the others chuckled.

  “Do you think he’ll keep that up – the barking?” asked Billy.

  “Oh yes, that’s a given,” said Tommy, “but it’s good sound cover for us.”

  “Maybe they’ll think we’re playing poker if they saw us all coming into your room,” joked Martinez.

  “Or a love-in,” added Billy, making them all laugh again.

  Tommy tapped the tiles. “Seriously, guys, we need to get organised. We’ve got a set date for this – Sunday the twenty-second – and we can’t stray from it. She’ll be waiting, like I explained.”

  “I can’t wait to see her again,” said Billy.

  Tommy nodded. “You’re telling me?”

  Eric prodded him, grinning.

  “Anyhow, I’ve worked out the basics with Leah and Doug. Martinez and I can speak to the guys we trust in the guard,” Tommy continued. “After what happened with Acre that day, I’m pretty sure who will want to get out of this place.”

  “Make sure you don’t pick a squealer,” said Eric, “or we’re screwed.”

  “You’ll have to trust my judgement on it. If I’m not sure about someone, I’m not going to take any risks. I’ve spoken to Sylvia and Elliott. They’re in. They’ve known the soldiers longer than us, except for you, Martinez, so they can help on who is trustable. I haven’t been able to speak to Ellen. That’s the thing that worries me. The good doctor has her locked up in his sleep study room.”

  “No way!” Billy exclaimed.

  “She agreed to it,” said Tommy with a sigh. “Ellen didn’t want anyone to get suspicious and agreed to sleep there for the study. She wanted everyone to think she was depressed over Marla. It was only meant to be for a week, but Owen has told me the doctor plans to keep her in there against her will. He’s sedating her a lot. I would have gone to Caballero or the administrator about it, but after what happened to Marla, what’s the point?”

  “Who is Owen?” asked Billy.

  “He’s one of the nurses there. Anyway, Owen doesn’t agree with what the doctor is doing. He’s really worried, and says Ellen has lost weight and looks tired. He mentioned coming across her records and reckons these orders come from high up.”

  “Crazy fuckers,” said Eric. “They’re just dreams.”

  “I don’t get it,” Martinez cut in.

  “Long story,” Billy told him. “I’ll tell you later.”

  Martinez nodded.

  “So, we need to gather as much weaponry as we can, speak to the soldiers who are trustable and plan this escape to the last detail,” said Tommy. “Harold and Peggy want to come with us; also Hanna and my son, Ash. I reckon Barney and Ruth too – I can’t with good conscience leave them in here, but Ruth is so young… I’m in two minds about it. Doug and Leah don’t think it’s a good idea.”

  “But they aren’t your kids,” Eric pointed out.

  “I promised Barney I wouldn’t leave him and I can’t separate him from his sister. Peggy offered to take care of them.”

  Eric shook his head. “I’m thinking it’s all gonna get complicated.”

  “It is anyway,” said Tommy.

  “What about Ellen?” asked Billy.

  “Owen is going to get her out,” Tommy answered. “He knows what he’s gotta do.”

  “I hope he’s reliable,” said Martinez. “I know nothing about him.”

  Eric and Billy nodded.

  Tommy waved his hands. “My gut instinct says yes. So, guys, the place where we will meet Marla is in between here and Amesbury, where she is living. It’s beside a tennis court, opposite Upavon Golf Club. Leah and Doug told me it’s safe. There’s nothing there and you can see all around you. Plus it’s easy to drive away in two directions and it’s away from the residential areas, so less freak potential. So, any ideas, guys? I have to meet with Leah and Doug later on. How do you reckon we do this thing? We have to get all of us out, and safely.”

  “I vote to go first thing in the morning,” said Martinez. “When there are no uglies about.”

  Tommy shook his head. “Ah, that’s one thing we’re sure on. Leah and Doug reckon we should leave at 7 p.m.”

  “Now you’re joking?” asked Billy.

  “Nope, it’s the time the soldiers are least likely to come after us. They won’t take the risk at night. And if they do follow, it’s probably the only time we have a chance of losing them.”

  “It’s also the most likely time to get a visit by a zombie, and I don’t mean a spaced-out Avon lady,” Eric cut in.

  The guys looked at one another for a moment and then Billy shrugged. “He’s right, you know. Night – it’s the only time. They’d be crazy to come after us. Caballero’s not stupid. He won’t send a search party out until morning.”

  Martinez mumbled something beneath his breath, but nodded. “We’d have a big head start.”

  “That’s the other thing,” said Eric. “Is Caballero definitely not trustable?”

  Tommy laughed. “Is the Pope Catholic? The man lied to my face.”

  Week 19

  Sunday, 22

  She followed the road as it curved around the wide open fields and between deep set trees. Above, the branches formed arches through which the dimming light peeked down on them. Every now and then, Marla eyed Nick as she drove. He did not say a word. Day would soon begin its transition to night and it made her apprehensive.

  Although the group had been through the plan over and over, she could not shake off the sense of unease that wrapped itself around her. Only the thought of seeing her sister and Tommy kept her steeled and determined. Adrenalin would propel her forwards, as it always did. Today was the day, as scheduled. Only time would tell if the plan would work.

  “Worried?” Nick asked and she laughed hollowly, knowing his question to be only rhetorical; no answer expected. Just as well, because none would be forthcoming.

  Marla checked the mirror. She wondered how Brian, Kris and Sid were doing in the back of the van. Probably have as many butterflies in their bellies as me. Marla refocused on the road ahead where the trees formed another arch, welcoming her beneath them, hurrying her towards her destiny.

  *
**

  Owen placed the printout of the photograph he had taken of Ellen sleeping over the single camera directed towards her bed. Quickly and carefully, he managed to tape it, despite his trembling fingers. Every now and then he checked the door, but no one entered the room. There was a chance of Rita returning at any moment if she decided not to take her full break, but he prayed silently that the Fates were on his side and she would stay away.

  “Wake up,” he whispered, nudging the sleeping girl. When no response came, he tapped her cheeks, willing her to stir, but she gave no reaction at all. He hoped her previous dosage of medication was wearing off. With time of the essence, he set about removing the sensors and bands from her face and body, followed by the contraption on her finger. “Ellen,” he whispered. “Please wake up.”

  Warily, Owen checked the door again, knowing it was only a matter of time before they were discovered. If so, it would be easy enough to remove the printout from the camera, but he would have to think up a good excuse for having removed all of the sensors. He shook her shoulders and slapped her cheek hard, although the action made him grimace. Understanding the depth of her sleep and the nature of her dreams, he knew his efforts might be in vain.

  Something flickered across Ellen’s expression and for a second he thought she would open her eyes, but then nothing. It was not to be. Time for Plan B, thought Owen. Lifting her head, he supported the back of it with his hand as he ran his other hand down her back and raised her upper body. She remained in a trancelike state, her head rolling to the side, her eyes wide open and staring blankly.

  It was useless. While trying to shift her body towards him, he remembered a story that Marla had once related. How she found her sister frozen in the impenetrable depths of sleep, staring at the ceiling with her eyes wide open. Concerned, Marla had tried to rouse her in vain and in the end she threw a glass of water over her.

  Owen carefully laid the sleeping girl back down. Grasping the glass of water by her bed, he repeated what Marla had done. Ellen’s body jerked and her head thrashed. Although her eyes were already open, they suddenly widened and the indifferent expression showed recognition. She coughed and blinked, staring at him, questioning. Owen replaced the glass on the side table and gestured for her not to speak. “I have to get you out of here right now,” he said.