Hounded | Book 3 | Hounded 3

by Douglas, Ellie

  “Let’s get that mess covered up. We’ll bring everyone back here where there are lockable doors, to keep us safe. We’ll leave at sunrise,” Bellamy said while searching cupboards, finding sheets and thumbtacks. They covered up the remains on the ground and tacked the sheet to the wall, hiding the crucifixions.

  Ethan filled everyone in on the plan. The kitchen had been ransacked, and there was nothing left but moldy food. The water was still running, allowing them to refill their water bottles. The power was off. They had to be careful with what little food they’d carried with them. After eating, they all settled in for the night. Some slept, while others tossed and turned.

  Just before sunrise Bellamy, along with Harry, checked out the parking lot, walking a few meters to ensure it was clear of zombies. Apart from ensanguined pavements, decomposing body parts, and large blue-black flies that buzzed around, there wasn’t much to see. Bellamy’s eyes followed the flies. They disappeared around a corner. More bodies to lay their eggs in, he thought. Both Bellamy and Harry could hear distant shuffling sounds, grunts, and groans. They scanned the surrounding area and checked along the path they’d take. Unable to see anything, they went back inside the church.

  Bellamy looked around the room. The remaining group wore faces of grim despair. Their clothing was ragged, baggy, and covered in grime from the musty air mingled with sweat and dirt. Their haunted eyes stared into space as their minds coped with the struggle to survive, reliving it daily like déjà vu.

  Even his brother Calloway had paled. His eyes bore the look of hollow pits. Prickly stubble had turned into a small beard. He looked fatigued while he held Julie softly in his arms. Bellamy could see her body shaking.

  “Bellamy, what’s the plan?” Ethan said as he cradled Crunchie, the white tiger.

  Bellamy continued to stare at everyone, his eyes darting from face to face. His thoughts traveled to the flight on which he’d met the man responsible for all this. Professor Boran Keo. The man who’d confessed to plaguing the world with this virus. Bellamy struggled as a loathing rage seized him, remembering the aging man’s face, his drunken breath fanning over him on that flight, and how one man had destroyed every single thing. Bellamy forced his mind back on track as his eyes landed upon Lily. She smiled sweetly at him, breaking the demonic spell that had briefly held him captive.

  “We head out, stay close to the buildings, move fast, and find that manhole. We shouldn’t be too far from it.” Bellamy spoke authoritatively, while his memory of Boran bounced around in his head.

  Bellamy gave out commands. Lily watched him. His heterochromia made his eyes pop more, as the tired rims shrunk under his eyes. His untidy dark blond hair had turned darker with dirt. Fading bite marks covered his forearms, a pale reddish-pink with a tinge of blue shadowing the old wounds. Blood stained his tee shirt, and his jeans equally tarnished, remnants of war-torn gore darkening patches across his muscular thighs. Lily made her way to him. Standing on tiptoes, she stole a kiss, then walked off and loaded her backpack.

  Somewhere amongst the ruined maze of charred buildings were the zombie dogs, hiding in wait like sewer rats, prowling and searching for fresh food. Bellamy was certain of it. He kept his eyes on full alert. As the morning sun rose, the heat ravaged them. Sweat streaked their clothes, staining their backs in rivulets. Every bit of dust and piece of airborne dirt clung to them, dirtying them more and making them look as though ‘d just crawled out of the Sahara Desert.

  Lily took Bellamy’s hand in hers as they walked, her eyes following the curve of the street.

  “Hon, do you think there are going to be many more of the human zombies?”

  “Not sure. They seem to take a while to turn into dead walkers. From what we’ve learned so far, it takes around four months.”

  “That’s my worry. It’s coming up to the sixth month since the first outbreak. I’m afraid we’re going to see many more, and in another two months’ time, even more. Soon the entire population that was comatose is going to be reanimated into those dead-walkers,” she almost sobbed through her voice.

  Bellamy squeezed her hand, lowering his head to kiss the top of hers. With his hand in hers, he continued his pace, keeping an eye out for that manhole. He took what Lily had said, digested it, and had nothing good to give back.

  “Hon, for now we have the upper hand. There are few, very few, human zombies. All we can do is keep going, stay alive, and make a new safe home on the island.”

  “Have you thought about what might be on Liberty Island?” she asked him with a shaky, almost timid voice.

  “Yeah, I have, hon, I have. We’ll gather more guns. I’m going in guns blazing, totally prepared for whatever might be lurking on the island.”

  “Good to know,” she said with a somewhat satisfied tone. “Hon, do you ever wonder what happened to the likes of the president, or movie stars even?”

  “Truthfully, babe, I never gave it any thought. I’d say if the president was fortunate not to have the SD-16 virus, he’d be well and truly guarded and safe. Where are these questions coming from, hon?”

  Lily shrugged her shoulders and said, “Dunno, I just think strangely at times.” She giggled while squeezing his hand harder.

  With the bright sun illuminating the area, it was easy to see all the ruined buildings. Fire damaged some of them, leaving sooty scarring and tar-colored walls. Other buildings, riddled with bullet holes, looked like large blocks of Swiss cheese dusted with cocoa powder. Some even looked as though grenades had gone off inside them. Bits of rubble, glass, and more body parts littered the pavement. The smell was so putrescent, Bellamy could hear the group gagging.

  Noises up ahead, to the sides, and behind them were heard. Low grunting sounds mixed with growls and light scuffing, as though scarecrows were sloshing about the area, permeated the air.

  Bellamy found the manhole. Signaling for Harry and Ethan, they all got the cover off. Harry went down first. He shone a light up, giving them the go-ahead to come down. Bellamy had all the women and children go first, then the men. He was last to go down. Once he’d cleared the cover enough, he pulled it back over the hole. The darkness surrounded him like a cave.

  CHAPTER 30

  RYKER

  Ryker looked around, knowing he needed to get the new group he’d acquired to a better location. He thought about it some, then remembered seeing a backpacker’s hostel when he was out for supplies. It would serve as the perfect location for his new group. He rounded up a few that wanted to go, and the rest stayed behind. They’d be taken after the first group had settled in. Eleven of them went with Ryker.

  Ryker stood with his .44 Special at the ready. The others stood behind him. On the steps outside the DMV, he looked around suspiciously, picking up stray sounds. After they’d milled around a bit in hesitation, they headed left. Up ahead, he could see dark shapes. Quickly turning, they went the other way. Half a block in, Ryker saw more dark shapes. The noise and smell intensified, like dead rodents – a mass graveyard of dead rodents, thought Ryker.

  He stopped suddenly, turned to the group without words, and pointed to the door across the street, a door that was painted blue, chipped, and scuffed. Using hand signals, he indicated the threats of zombies lurking to their right and behind them. Fear was something Ryker had grown accustomed to. He looked upon it as a weapon, and relied on it.

  He stood deathly still. The dogs were close, and one wrong step would alert them. Carefully, he trod forward, stepping silently. The others followed his steps. One of the buildings he was about to pass had its windows smashed out. Glass littered the street like autumn leaves. There was no way behind or to the side of it with upturned cars and trolleys in the way.

  They had to remain on the curb that they were traveling. Putting his hand up to signal the glass on the ground, he hoped his team of eleven understood, he carefully and methodically stepped over the broken shards. Demi, third from the back, lost her footing and stepped on a large pile of glass. It crunched so loudly, that
it sounded like distant fireworks. She paused, her breathing caught in her throat, the clammy tentacles of her panic rising like a tsunami. Dropping her pistol, she bolted.

  She was terrified. Not wanting to be eaten, she ran blindly for the door. It was locked. A sudden burst of horror, more sinister and insidious, swallowed her whole. With wild and wide eyes, she knew that death was just moments away. The zombie dogs were coming. She heard them first, and then saw them. Ryker had begun shooting. They were on them like bees to their queen.

  Ryker darted across the street and the others followed. His eyes glared sharply at Demi. Her mind blasted her into a racing hysteria. She began trembling and calling out, “Help!” Her voice alerted the dogs to her location. Ryker spun on his heels and took aim, getting two dogs in the head while more kept coming.

  Charles tried to pry the door open. It was nailed shut, with every inch around the frame nailed. Mikey shot and missed the dogs completely, his bullets spraying around like corn thrown at Halloween. His nerves got the better of him and dread captured him. He continued to shoot, only barely hitting one zombie dog.

  The others had darted off in different directions, giving Ryker an advantage, as it drew some of the zombie dogs away. He watched in horror as two dogs pulled down Melissa, a young eighteen-year-old, ravaging her body like they were playing tug-of-war with a rag. Like monstrous supernatural demons, they’d risen from the underground just to devour her.

  Mikey and Ryker continued shooting, and Demi cowered with her hands covering her head. She didn’t realize she’d crawled into the middle of the street. Her only cover was a bit of rubble. The dogs were on her like stampeding elephants. To the side of him Mikey was being overrun and dragged away. Demi was just in front of Ryker. He quickly turned to see one of her legs being dragged down the street, while another dog began decapitating her.

  Her head began to tear away from her neck as another latched onto a breast, ripping it off like a Band-Aid. He shot the dog straight in the head. He fired more at other dogs, but it was too late. Demi’s head fell from the mouth of a medium-sized dog. It just lay there in a pool of blood, veins and tendons hanging from the neck end like the tentacles of a squid. Her eyes were frozen wide, her lips were splayed open in a silent scream of pure unadulterated fear.

  Plasma had sprayed the surrounding concrete, painting it aglow in bright red. Her torso had already been eaten right through, and her arms were being dragged away by two more zombie dogs. Six feet away, Clive and Jo were being slashed apart. More gore squirted around as if a fireman’s hose had been set free.

  Twenty-two-year-old Reece tried to escape, but his bulk hindered him as his lungs filled with toxic air. He collapsed, unable to run anymore. Weighing over three hundred pounds, he was no match for the fast zombie dogs. They ripped into his flabby flesh. He clenched his jaw when he felt his thighs being gouged, and four zombie dogs shredded him in mere minutes. Fatty lumps of his flesh split like a pig’s skin. His face twisted into an obscene scream as it was peeled from forehead to chin, exposing bones that were soon crunched up and sucked on. What was left the dogs spat out like discarded pips.

  His guts were something Ryker would never forget. As they were pulled away, a trail of his bowels coiled around like dying snakes and then exploded from the pressure of the zombie dog’s sharp teeth, laying waste to the mangled mass of blood and body parts. The smell alone could knock one out, Ryker thought as he held his breath. It looked like his body had just been blown up by a grenade that he’d swallowed. Bits of his flesh and bones were strewn madly around the street, a sight and smell that would forever stain Ryker’s memories.

  Ryker continued to shoot as he took off, racing past the others and darting inside a laundromat. Catching his breath, he was able to signal the remaining survivors. One by one, the four that were left made their way to the laundromat. Two were snatched up fast when they let down their guard. They were both slammed headfirst into the pavement, shattering their noses and mouths. The sound of their busted teeth hitting the pavement was a chilling and horrendous snapping, like a distant barrage of firecrackers.

  The other two made it to the laundromat. Ryker got them in and they cowered behind washing machines, trying to shrink out of view while Ryker stood guard out of sight.

  He watched the zombie dogs eat the two on the road, like velociraptors from Jurassic Park, with how they snatched the bodies off-guard and the way they ate them – picking, biting, digging, and dragging off body parts, then diving back in for more.

  “Are you two okay back there?”

  “Not really, but we haven’t been bitten,” Liza called out as she looked at Dean. He was trembling and his skin had turned ghostly white.

  “We’ll give it an hour or so. Then they’ll be gone and we can make our way back to the DMV building,” Ryker said as he slowly slid down. Resting his .44 Special across his lap, he took in some deep, slow breaths. He hadn’t realized how much trouble it would be having extra people with him. He regretted taking them with him, and didn’t know what to do with them now. All he could think about was a strong black coffee, his mouth beginning to salivate at the thought of it.

  Finding a bigger place was something he’d put a hold on. Going out with a group was not something he wanted to try again right now. He sighed to himself. Hell, he’d warned Bellamy of the dangers. Disgusted with himself, he began to anger. Part of his training was to help others. He knew that, but right at that moment, he didn’t care. He was close to bolting and ridding himself of all the new people he’d acquired. His kind nature demolished that idea. Instead, he worked on a plan to get him and the other two back to the DMV safely, so he could have his coffee.

  “Are you ready?” Ryker said in a low voice.

  They nodded their heads, but in reality they didn’t really want to tread the streets again. But knowing they couldn’t stay there, they had no choice but to be ready.

  “I know this is becoming redundant, but it nonetheless has to be said… Be quiet,” Ryker cautioned in his Army authoritative tone.

  Again, they nodded. Carefully and quietly, they followed Ryker out. As they passed the massive amount of spilled blood, Dean thought it looked as though a crop sprayer had sprayed it. There was so much of it. Mixed amongst the bloodied mess were teeth, a digit here and there, a foot, and some entrails. Neither of them could handle the smell. Wrapping their arms around their lips and noses, and holding their breath, proved to be feeble attempts to abolish the stink.

  Liza’s heart began to throb hard. It felt like a jackhammer on steroids. Her hands grew sweaty and the pistol she held tightly began to work itself free of her grip. Dean was no better. His teeth chattered and his legs wobbled unsteadily. Moving as slowly as they were, he was unable to avert his eyes from the aftermath of the slaughter.

  All he could think about was his mother and how she was lucky to have escaped this, having died of ovarian cancer days before the outbreak. She’d had a fine funeral. Fifty-six people had shown up, and her burial plaque was a thing of beauty. He thought now that if he died, he’d have no burial, no plaque, and no people to mourn his death.

  A former banker, he was now thrown into a war – a war where humans were slowly but steadily becoming extinct. It’s the end of the world, he thought as he accidently tripped over a tire rim. It was the last thought he’d ever have, as he fell and landed on a piece of rubble that a fourteen-inch metal foundation rod stuck out of.

  It skewered Dean’s head through his cheek and out the other side, compressing his head into a grotesque display of horror. It instantly bloated, and mucus and blood oozed out of the gaping hole and drained over the foundation rod, spilling onto the rubble it was attached to. Death had snatched him up instantly. Ryker grabbed Liza’s arm and virtually dragged her back to the DMV building.

  Once inside the DMV, they both rushed to lock the door behind them, barricading it back up with the desks used earlier. Liza was breathing so heavily she sounded like a rasping ferret.

  “
You have asthma?” Ryker looked at her with alarm.

  “Yes,” she wheezed.

  “You should have told me. I wouldn’t have made you run so fast.”

  He put his arm around her and led her into the main room.

  “Where’s everyone else?” Colin asked as Jean cut him off.

  “Did you find us somewhere to stay?”

  “No. And no more people coming. We were attacked. Liza and I barely made it back alive. We’ll have to try another way. But for now, I just need to rest and have a coffee.” He walked to the coffee pot and thickly looked around, seeing if any of them would admit to not refilling it. No one did, so he turned on the mini gas element, boiled up the water and filled the pot. His eyes watched around the room. Liza took several puffs of an inhaler and lay down. Others were chatting amongst themselves when a young man strutted over to Ryker.

  “I have an idea,” he cheerily beamed, looking down at Ryker before sitting down next to him.

  “I’m all ears.”

  “Right, why don’t we get ourselves armored? That way, on the way to the new location, we can be better secured and make it without losing any of us.” The young man beamed.

  “What’s your name?”

  “Marvin Tomas the Third,” he proudly announced with a radiant, lingering smile.

  “Well, Marvin, I like your idea. But we’d have to be so well-armored that nothing could bite through, while still allowing us to walk. If you have ideas on how to do that, let me know.”

  “I was thinking duct tape, then plates of metal taped to the body parts most prone to being bitten – legs, arms, and head.”

  “Again, great ideas. But where do you propose we get metal for the ten of us?”

  “There.” He pointed, and Ryker followed his line of sight. At first he didn’t see it, and then he realized Marvin was talking about the metal chairs. All the seating was metal, and the framing, too. They could be broken down and used, he thought.