Hounded | Book 3 | Hounded 3

by Douglas, Ellie

  “Stop it!” she wailed.

  “Beth, please be a good girl. It’s not safe out there. The kitten will come back when he’s hungry, I promise you.”

  Anya picked Beth up and held her in a hug. But her eyes quickly diverted toward a sound of horrific crunching. Something that sounded like a bulldozer was knocking shrubbery out of the way, startling them both.

  “My kitten!” Beth screamed so loudly that Anya almost dropped her.

  “Let me go, I want my kitten!”

  Anya ignored her pleas and began making her way toward the hotel, her eyes desperately searching for someone to assist her. A loud whack-crunch sound from behind alerted her. Spinning on her heels, she turned to see a Doberman Pinscher, a Bull Terrier, a Great Dane, and a mixed breed of some kind. Together they emitted a horrifying high-pitched sound. Anya buried her head into Beth’s shoulder, desperately trying to shield them both from the awful debilitating noise.

  “Make it stop!” Beth cried.

  Anya tried to move forward. But disoriented by the noise, she walked right into the path of the dogs. One jumped up and knocked Beth out of her grip. Beth went tumbling to the ground screaming. When her tiny body was on the ground, the Doberman latched onto her waist, picking her up and shaking her around in such a frenzy that Anya could hear Beth’s bones breaking.

  Ruth ran from out of nowhere, as fast as her tiny little legs allowed, toward Anya and Beth, with two little Corgis fast on her heels.

  “Ruth, run! Get help. Go!”

  Ruth ran past Anya in the direction of the hotel. Anya tried to grab hold of Beth, but the dogs circled her and trapped her, keeping her away from Beth. Anya kicked out and screamed bloody murder. The Doberman was ripping Beth apart. Anya saw a torrent of blood splatter, and then an arm flew off, causing the other dogs to fight over it. While they fought over the severed arm, Anya took her chance and dashed to Beth’s side.

  Grabbing hold of Beth’s right foot she tried to drag her away from the Doberman. A tug of war ignited, and Anya had no choice but to let go. The child’s leg was being ripped from her body as her veins exploded and erupted into a cloudburst of crimson rain. Beth was dead now, and the dogs were feasting. The Doberman, leading the pack, tossed portions of Beth’s torn body to the rest. After sharing what it wanted to share, it took Beth’s remaining body in its mouth and dragged her out into the forest.

  One of the dogs, the Great Dane, then advanced toward Anya. With one bite on her leg, it pulled her to the ground. Her face was pushed into the grass as it jumped onto her back, biting so deeply that Anya thought her spine would be torn out. She clawed the earth in a meek attempt to escape. But the bites were so ferocious that Anya passed out.

  Ruth almost made it to the hotel. She was out of breath and slowed down. One of the Corgis got hold of her then, scratching up the back of her legs before knocking her to the ground. She let out a long and very loud scream. Both Corgis ripped into her, one at her feet as the other began peeling away flesh from the back of her neck toward the base of her skull. Then it sunk its razor-sharp teeth into her and splintered her neck into two halves. Savagely, it pulled until Ruth’s neck came apart. Her tendons stretched outward, snapping like elastic.

  Her eyes were frozen in fear as her screams died. Her heart slowed and then stopped as one side of her head was torn away. The Corgis gorged their way into her tiny body, chewing, suckling, and gnawing away. They were unaware of the men rushing toward them, and BANG! One of the Corgis was shot in the head. It tumbled sideways, rolled a foot, and then came to a bloody stop. Opening its maw, it dropped Ruth’s toes as it died. The other Corgi kept on eating, feverishly chomping at Ruth’s bloodied half-face. It was shot within seconds of the first and it, too, died. It rolled off Ruth and fell to the grass, where it stayed, never to get up again.

  In the street directly outside the hotel were several zombie dogs. They were snarling and pacing aggressively. Some looked more decayed than the others, with a white translucent membrane dripping off them. To Lily, it reminded her of the time she’d visited a farm on a school trip and watched the birth of a calf.

  She turned away and then turned back as another round of gunshots went off. She strained to see, but was unable to view the shooters. Instead, she watched the dogs being picked off one by one, falling to the ground in succession. Before all the gunfire had ceased, she heard Anya’s screams, followed by several others screaming out for Ruth and Beth. Lily felt light-headed as fear encapsulated her.

  “Not the girls!” she howled. “Jesus, not the girls!”

  The door swung wide and Harry walked in, carrying Anya. Lily could clearly see the bite marks to her face, upper chest, back and waist. Anya had passed out. Leo tended to her wounds quickly, as Lily’s questions went unheard.

  “Someone, damn it, tell me what’s going on!”

  Keith rushed in carrying the bloodied remains of Ruth. Lily dashed to the bedside, and what she saw instantly told her that she was already dead. Ruth’s face was split in two. The only thing holding it in place was some fragments of bone, ripped muscles and veins. One side was picked clean of flesh, and the other looked as though she had been attacked by birds. Her tiny feet were missing digits and mangled so badly they looked like they’d gone through a mincing machine. Up her legs toward her thighs, chunks of flesh had been ripped away to expose broken bones. Lily sobbed hard, much harder than she expected.

  “Where is Beth? Someone tell me, where’s Beth!”

  “She was dragged into the forest by another zombie dog,” Keith yelled as he rushed back out the door. Lily frantically tried to get dressed. A strong need pulled at her, a desire to be out there helping. but she hadn’t gone far when Bellamy grabbed her.

  “I have to help,” she protested. Ignoring her insistent demands to be out helping, he picked her up and placed her back on the bed.

  “Stay put, hon, there’s nothing you can do.” The look on his face told her everything. Lily grabbed the pillow, and smothering her face she screamed into it repeatedly, louder and longer each time. Hoarse from screaming she pulled the pillow away and looked up into Bellamy’s tearstained eyes.

  “No!” she screamed, pulling the pillow back over her face and sobbing into it again. “How?” she finally asked through the pillow.

  “We found her leg, and then another body part.” He paused. “Hon, you sure you want to hear this?”

  Lily threw the pillow to the side of the bed. Turning on her side, she held Bellamy’s hand tightly.

  “Yes.” Her voice was dry and raspy.

  “We followed the body parts, and then found her… head.” Bellamy couldn’t look at Lily. His eyes filled again.

  “Why did they go outside?”

  “Not sure, hon. We’ll have to wait until Anya’s awake before we know what happened.”

  “Is Anya okay?”

  “Leo said she has severe gashes, lacerations, and puncture holes the size of apples across her back, but she’ll make it.”

  Bellamy leaned into Lily and whispered.

  “I should have been watching them. I’m so sorry.”

  “It isn’t your fault. Please don’t blame yourself. It’s no one’s fault other than the dogs. It’s them, not you, not me, and not Anya, just them!” Lily’s voice held anger and misery. She’d never felt this way before. She wanted to grab a crossbow and take out every zombie dog in the world.

  Lily dried her eyes and tried to get out of bed, but Bellamy stopped her.

  “Please, let me go see Anya. She needs to know we don’t hold her responsible.” Bellamy nodded, allowing her to get out of bed and then helping her to Anya’s bedside.

  When Lily looked at her, she could see the tremendous extent of her injuries. Taking Anya’s hand in hers, she told her over and over it wasn’t her fault. Anya remained unconscious for several hours. Lily never left her side.

  “There you are,” Lily said when Anya finally woke. “I thought you’d taken a trip to another universe for a while there,”
Lily said soothingly as she brushed Anya’s hair to the side of her ear. A steady stream of fluid trickled down Anya’s face and rolled onto the pillow, saturating it.

  “Please don’t beat yourself up. We don’t blame you, Anya. This is not your fault,” Lily somberly said.

  “I’m sorry, Lily, I couldn’t stop them. They just wanted to see their mother, so I took them to the gravesite. They asked to take the kittens. I let them, but I wish I hadn’t. The kittens got away and the girls chased after them. I’m so, so, so, sorry, Lily! I tried to get them, but I was too late.” She cried hard as Lily held her gently, affirming repeatedly that it wasn’t her fault.

  Lily felt empty, as though a part of her had somehow evaporated. The loss of the girls was a heavy burden. Though they weren’t hers, and she’d only spent a short time with them, they’d made a significant impact on both her and Bellamy. She’d never forget them. A piece of her died that day.

  She would wear the mark of that loss in her heart and carry it with her for the rest of her life. That night, she looked up at the stars. She saw two twinkling above her like diamonds, and Lily felt it was the girls looking down upon her. They were at peace, away from the dying world. This helped Lily move forward. Bellamy handled it differently. His mood changed to one of pure determination to continue surviving, and a fierce new charge to keep everyone safe.

  CHAPTER 12

  TYRINGHAM

  Ethan kept busy with trips out of town to bring in more people and more equipment, and with reinforcing the town. Things started to take shape. The more hands they had, the faster things got done. A few zombie dogs had found their way in, but they were quickly taken care of by the watchmen.

  Ethan returned from another day out with ten more families. Taking a much-needed break, he caught up with Julie, Shadow, and Kara.

  They told him that the school had been converted into a sickbay, and that the church was being used as both a recreational zone for the younger kids and for town meetings. Julie had taken on a nursing role, tending to all the wounded. Some of the families Ethan brought back also brought their SD-16 infected loved ones.

  Julie set up a separate area for them, keeping them away from other patients. When the time came, Ethan would eliminate them. It would take a town meeting and sightings of human zombies to convince those who hadn’t seen yet. Kara took to teaching the younger kids reading and writing, while Shadow filled her days with weed smoking – and having developed a flair for it, cooking.

  A few more trips over the course of the month, and Ethan had gathered everything he could. A few of the other men had helped him. He’d collected weapons, including many guns, crossbows, swords, and various other items. He brought back motor bikes, cans of fuel, food from every source he came across, and clothing. He even hauled back games, books, and craft paper for the kids to fill their time with.

  He utilized everything. No stone was left unturned. Gas bottles provided fuel for cooking, and with the amount of flour and yeast he’d stored, fresh bread and biscuits could be baked. He’d had his fair share of dog encounters along the way. One had bitten his ring finger off before he had the chance to shoot it in the head.

  Nothing stopped him. He was a force to be reckoned with. He frequently thought of his wife Rebecca. She’d become his guardian angel, pushing him to go on, to stay alive and to survive. With the town wall complete, people were happily settling in. Stanley Fowler, on the other hand, was trouble. His constant drinking, getting into fistfights, and groping of the women was grating on everyone’s nerves. A religious man named Abe prayed for him daily.

  Unbeknownst to the small close-knit community, an autistic man named Milo Bates had secretly been making small holes in the wall’s perimeter big enough to let little dogs through. He’d go out each day and make a lot of noise up and down the street and off to the side. No one knew what he was doing. His mother assumed he was just settling in, getting used to the new surroundings, and familiarizing himself with it all.

  He collected clothespins and used them to mark the path he walked every day. When he ran out of pins, he became agitated and howled like a Tasmanian Devil. His mother struggled to keep him quiet. Fears grew that he would attract the dogs, and some of the new townspeople told the mother angrily that if she couldn’t control her son, they’d confine him in one of the three storm shelters they’d found. He’s just autistic, she’d say. He’s twenty-two years old and harmless. While some in the new community understood, others did not.

  Ethan made it a point to find clothespins for Milo. He set out on a mission and took Rene Butler, a forty-four-year-old Ethiopian, with him. He’d become very close to Rene, enjoying his company and discovering they had a lot in common.

  Stanley grew more and more agitated with Milo and made sure he let him know it whenever he was around. Milo would click his fingers repeatedly in front of his own face. His speech was almost nonexistent, and all he could do was parrot what Stanley said, which agitated Stanley more. Stanley quickly caught onto Milo’s parroting and he took great pleasure in getting him to repeat, ‘I am a retard.’ Milo would parrot the words while clicking his fingers and rocking gently back and forth. “I am a retard,” he’d say over and over while Stanley chuckled.

  Purposefully, Stanley had Milo repeat other words and phrases, such as retarded dick-fucker and spastic pussy-licker. Every day he’d make fun of Milo, with Milo never being the wiser. Though Milo didn’t understand any of what Stanley said and did, he did know he was a threat of some kind. He just couldn’t articulate it in words. Milo began getting increasingly irritated. He dug holes in more places. Unable to remember where he’d been without his clothespins, he’d sit slamming his head into the fence and dribbling out uncommunicative mumblings.

  While Ethan was out of town with Rene, the two men he’d stationed on guard at the watchtower abandoned their posts in favor of sexual promises from two young women they’d been flirting with. By the time they finished, it was too late.

  All the holes that Milo had made were now big enough for all dogs to get through. The general noise level of the community, mixed with Milo’s ravings, drew in the dogs. Soon, one by one, they found the holes and began filtering inside. So many of them had piled up against one of the holes that an entire section caved inwards, smashing to the ground like a falling high-rise building.

  A cloud of dust blanketed the street and sent brownish grit about thirty feet into the air. When it settled it exposed, like sheets over ghosts, sixty howling, snarling dogs. The noise was so deafening that people stood clasping their hands over their ears, momentarily disabled by the clamor. With their heads lolling around like those of drunken sailors and drooling profusely, the dogs headed toward the panic-stricken few who were within feet of the collapsed wall.

  Screams rose and filled the street. Like rats scattering on an old-time sinking pirate ship, the people scurried away as fast as they could. The slowest went down first as fat, muscle, and skin were torn from their bodies when the dogs took them to the ground. Once down, their body parts were flung about as they were ripped into pieces and consumed like burgers at a barbeque. Bone-crushing screams filled the air like a thousand wind turbines.

  An elderly lady had fallen over as she tried to run. A large dog leapt on top of her and locked its jaws tightly over her frail, aged face. She tried to scream, but choked on the excessive and gooey drool dripping over her nose and mouth. The dog bit down hard, and using its mouth like a suction cup, it began to suck and bite out parts of her face.

  Paula could feel every excruciating moment of it – veins and arteries snapping like old rubber bands, her under-eye tissue bulging so quickly that it split and left her eyeballs protruding like gobstoppers. Adding to her panic because she couldn’t see. The dog sucked faster and harder, drawing out her eyes, nose, and half of her mouth. Her aged hands pounded hard into the dog’s chest until her right hand went through the dog’s ribcage and found its heart. Paula pushed back the burning hot pain long enough to squeeze th
e dog’s heart until it imploded in her hand.

  Stunned when it didn’t release its grip over her face, her legs kicked out as the pain took over. Suddenly, silver-white lightning bolts shot across the back of where her eyes once sat and down to the base of her skull, and then all was dark again. She died instantly, her last vision one of sparkling lightning bolts.

  The zombie dog continued to chomp and drink her face clean. It finally got her eyeballs severed and swallowed them whole. It moved to her mouth, ripping it apart, pulling out her tongue, and yanking on it until it tore from her gaping mouth. Then it chewed off the remaining parts of her nose. During its violent biting and sucking, it suddenly hesitated and then spat her false teeth to the ground before attacking her neck.

  It continued until she had no more than a smashed watermelon-shaped head left. Copious amounts of hot red liquid spewed out like a waterfall, covering the dog and the ground and turning the dog even more crazed. The dregs of meat, bone, and brain dripping to the ground, were devoured by another dog in seconds, as if they were a gift from the first one. More dogs began gnawing at her legs. When they finished, there was nothing left but a few bits of intestine, broken bones, torn flesh, false teeth, and her wig.

  The dogs quickly moved to the next victim, a teenager who was too scared to run and was sitting motionless on the sidewalk. His heart skipped, sweat dripped from his stubble above his lip, his ears burned hot, and the palms of his hands and soles of his feet grew clammy. Every bit of color drained from him as the zombie dogs got within inches of his nose.

  He flinched and lost his balance, shrilling as he fell back. The first dog snarled at him. Its gums had receded, showing rotten, jagged, blackened teeth as it growled with a sound unlike anything he’d ever heard. There was no barking, just a menacing low grunting and growling that stemmed from deep down inside the rotting throats of the dogs.