by Luke Duffy
He stopped at the edge of the rooftop and peered out into the distance. Raising the binoculars to his eyes, he scanned the far side of the Safari Park, trying desperately to make out the high wall that ran the length of the perimeter. He knew it was there, but every now and then, he wanted to see it physically, to reassure himself.
"I hate the dark," he whispered hoarsely. "I used to like it. It meant that we could do the things we liked, without anyone seeing us. Now, it means those sacks of pus can do what they like, while we hide like frightened rats."
Stan rose to his feet, groaning with the effort and the sudden movement causing the cold material of his clothing to brush against his bare skin beneath. He let out a shudder and grunted as he walked towards his friend.
"I don’t know about the 'rats' part, but I am frightened, Kieran. Those things scare the shit out of me and I don’t mind admitting it either.”
Kieran continued looking through the binoculars, but let out a grunt in agreement.
"What can you see?" Stan asked.
Kieran shrugged. "Nothing really, well nothing new anyway."
Stan took the binoculars and began to look for himself. Even with the naked eye, he could make out the dark swarm that stretched out for what seemed like miles beyond the walls. Through the binoculars, he could see the crowds more clearly. Though they were still cast in gloom, he could see the bobbing and weaving mass that seemed to pitch and tumble as though it were a choppy black sea.
He did not really need to see them. Their stench was thick in the air around them. It drifted to them across the wide-open plains of the park and stalked towards the house, like a creeping mist, as though it were an entity within itself, seeking the living people inside.
The noise of the dead was a constant, even though they were far away, but without any other noise to drown them out, the low hum of thousands of dead voices as they let out their perpetual moans and wails was carried to the survivors on the cold wind. The air around them seemed electrified with the faint ghostly chorus of the damned as all their voices were merged into one long, continuous low murmur.
Kieran hated the sound. To him, it sounded like a distant beehive or an electrical power grid, but those things were gone now and replaced with the poignant music of the dead.
At first, the survivors within the park had attempted to stem the flow of the dead by burning them. Hundreds of bodies that swarmed the walls and gates were engulfed in the flames but it was no use; more came to replace them, flocking from the outlying towns and villages. They flung themselves at the walls and attacked the gates incessantly, trampling on the charred remains of their fallen comrades.
"Jesus," Stan snorted and spat in disgust, "that bitch, Stephanie, really did a number on this place, didn’t she?"
Kieran huffed. "Yeah, but the fat tub of shit is suffering for her efforts now though. How long's it been, three, four months?"
"About that, yeah," Stan nodded. "What do you think they will do with her?"
Kieran shrugged indifferently. "They can let her rot for all I care. Marcus is pretty much running the show now and I don’t think he's in too much of a hurry to put an end to her misery."
"That Lee is a crazy bastard. I've seen him go in there a few times and piss all over her, and then give her a kicking, just for the fun of it."
"Understandable really," Kieran said as he blew out a lungful of air and watched as it misted and drifted upwards towards the slowly changing sky.
"They lost friends because of her, and from what I've heard, she was making moves to try and take over this place when she lived here."
"Yeah," Stan nodded, "fuck her. She deserves whatever she gets."
A sudden noise from behind and the two of them spun on their heels. Their eyes struggled to focus in the gloom as they peered into the dark shadows where the door led from the interior of the mansion and onto the rooftop. Stan could feel the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end in the cold crisp air. They were not expecting to be relieved from guard duty for another two hours, but someone was now on the roof with them.
A silent black figure stepped forward from the shadows; the sound of the gravel crunching beneath its feet as it slowly approached them was the only noise that it made. The lack of features and detail in the figure heightened the sense of anxiety in Kieran and Stan.
Kieran's shoulders relaxed and his body straightened as he recognised the man. Stan was a little slower to identify the new arrival, but the voice was unmistakable.
"You two expecting monsters or something?" the voice asked in a mocking tone.
Stan huffed and shrugged his shoulders, trying desperately to look casual and unfazed. "No," he snapped. "Just wasn’t expecting anyone else to be up here."
"Ah, well I couldn’t sleep so I thought I would take a wander," Stu replied as he stepped up to the roof’s edge beside them.
"I'll happily go and do your sleeping for you, Stu," Stan grinned.
"I bet you fucking would," Stu beamed back at him. "But sorry, mate, I've done more than my fair share on 'stag'."
"Why do you lot refer to it as 'stag'?" Kieran asked with a raised eyebrow.
Stu smiled to himself. "I haven't a clue to be honest. It's just army slang and it's stuck." He looked out into the distance, towards the perimeter of the park, and nodded.
"Is there anything new happening out there this morning?"
"Not a thing," Kieran grumbled.
Stu turned slowly in a three hundred and sixty degree arc, scanning the horizon and forming an appreciation of the situation in his head. He nodded and hummed to himself as he did his turn, before stopping and looking out to the south, towards the main gate and perimeter wall.
"What are you thinking, Stu?" Stan asked expectantly.
Stu shrugged and turned to the two youngsters. He fixed them with a cold stare. "We're fucked!"
Stan and Kieran suddenly looked alarmed. Swapping glances with one another, they stepped closer to Stu, their wide eyes revealing their apprehension at Stu's sudden and unexpected statement.
"What do you mean? What's happened?"
Stu grinned. "Calm down fellas, nothing has happened. Well, nothing new anyway, but look at it." He swept his hand in a wide arc over the horizon. "There's a million of those things surrounding us. They can't get in…for now, and we can't get out."
"What do you mean 'for now'?" Stan was feeling unsettled and it was apparent in his shaking voice.
"He's right, Stan," Kieran admitted.
Stan was rattled. It felt as though the pair of them had suddenly gained some knowledge of an impending catastrophe and he was desperate to be let in on the secret. He glanced from Stu to Kieran and back again, waiting for an explanation. None came.
"Stu's right," Kieran repeated.
Stu nodded to him and turned to head back towards the door. "We can't stay here forever, boys," he called over his shoulder as he disappeared in to the stairway.
Kieran and Stan stood looking at each other for a moment.
Kieran broke the silence. "We will have to leave here at some point."
Stan looked frightened and confused. He always felt less than comfortable around any of the tough looking men that had arrived with Marcus, but Kieran suddenly announcing that he was in agreement with Stu's statement unsettled him.
"Why, what do you think is going to happen? We're safe here, aren't we?"
"Yeah, for now we're safe, but look." Kieran nodded out at the mass of bodies that was packed against the outer walls of the park. They were more visible now and Stan suddenly realised that it was fast becoming light.
"At some point, Stan, they will get in, or we will run out of food. Maybe run out of fuel. Then we will have to leave."
"How could they get in? The walls are too big and we put the fuel truck up against the gate to reinforce it. We have tons of food. Marcus and Steve saw to that when they took us back to the supermarket and we pretty much cleaned the place out." Stan was doing his best to convince his f
riend.
Kieran shook his head and sat down on a rickety camping chair. "You still don’t get it, do you, mate? Those things out there, they'll never give up. If they don’t break through the gate, then they will starve us out."
Stan was pacing, looking out to the south at the swarms of reanimated dead then back at Kieran. "Nah," he said shaking his head. "We're safe here. They won't get in."
Kieran looked up at Stan. "You remember the supermarket?"
"Yeah, I remember, why?"
"We were stuck there for days and more and more of them showed up by the hour. They didn’t get bored and they didn’t give up. Now look down there." He nodded towards the large walls that surrounded them. "There are thousands and thousands of them. Eventually, we will have to leave this place, Stan."
4
Jake's skin had turned deathly pale. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead, despite the biting cold of the winter's day. His head was beginning to spin and the nausea increased by the second. He held his hand up to cover his nose and mouth, fighting hard to hold back the gag reflex that threatened to bring up the contents of his stomach.
"I think I'm going to be sick," he warned.
Helen looked at him. He was swaying. She took a step to the right, increasing the distance between her and Jake, just in case he was unable to keep his composure, to avoid being covered in his vomit.
Lee turned and grinned at him. "I thought you would've been used to it by now, Jake. Come on, it's not that bad." He breathed in deep through his nostrils and exhaled loudly through his mouth, all the time, watching Jake for his reaction.
Still holding his nose, Jake shook his head defiantly and mumbled, "Never. I could never get used to it."
The large tanker that they had liberated from the supermarket blocked much of their view beyond the gate, but a metre wide gap on the left side revealed enough. In just that small space, where the railings met the high perimeter wall, hundreds of decaying faces forced themselves up against the steel bars, desperate to reach the five survivors on the other side. They thrust their arms through the gaps in the railings, their fingers clutching and their jaws snapping.
The stench was overpowering, at least for Jake. He could only describe it as a mixture of vomit and excrement. The sickly sweet smell seemed to penetrate through his pores and attack his senses. He wondered how the others had developed such a resistance to it. For Jake, the odour was just as horrific as the dead themselves were.
Steve and Stu stepped closer. They moved around to the front of the tanker, checking that it was still firmly wedged against the large stone pillars that held the gate hinges in place. The cab and trailer were sitting flush with the large heavy gate, reinforcing it against the increasing weight of the dead pushing against it. Steve remembered being impressed at how easily and precisely Jim had managed to manoeuvre the vehicle so close to the gate. The wheels were turned to the left at full lock, and then they had deliberately deflated the tyres to avoid any movement whatsoever. It was still secure and had not budged an inch.
They moved to the rear, towards the gap. They rounded the rear of the truck; immediately, the dead that pushed themselves up close to the gate saw the living humans at such close proximity and erupted with excitement. They increased their efforts to gain entry to the park, pulling and pushing at the steel rails of the gate, smashing their faces into the gaps. They moaned and wailed longingly as they heaved at the gate. Some even managed to obliterate their own skulls with the violence of their assaults, as their heads smashed against the steel barrier and their bodies crumpled to the floor, never to rise again.
The crowd surged as more saw the two living men just beyond their reach, no more than a metre beyond their grasping hands. The bodies at the front were being slowly crushed from the weight of the mob behind them. Stu and Steve watched as they were battered up against the steel bars. The dead did not complain or try to protect themselves from being squashed against the barrier, and continued to snap their teeth together, their eyes locked on Steve and Stu as they were trampled and obliterated by the mass to their rear.
A sea of pale grey and blackened faces; their moans long and in unison, continued to assault the gate. Steve stepped closer, not to agitate the crowd, but so that he could get a better look at the stone pillar and the condition of the brackets that held them in place.
"Careful, Steve," Helen called from behind.
He glanced back and saw her staring at him. At that moment, she reminded him of his mother, scolding him for climbing the garden shed as a child.
Jake had lost his composure and Steve saw that he was a few metres back from Lee and Helen, bent double, and vomiting violently into the bushes.
Steve gingerly moved closer still, one eye looking up at the gate housing and the other watching the bony claw-like hands that were shoved through the bars, reaching out for him. Their fingertips were just centimetres away from his clothing.
Stu stepped up with him, his pistol raised into the aim and ready to drop any of the dead, should they manage to get a grip on Steve.
The steel gate rattled and clanged as the mass of bodies continued to launch their attacks at it; Steve could see the cement around the heavy hinges flaking. With all the weight pressing against them over the months, it had slowly been crumbling away and now, the brackets had movement within the stone.
"Shit, it's…"
A loud bang to his rear forced Steve to raise his hands up to protect his head. He ducked and pivoted to his left as the noise echoed through his ears and sent his vision blurry. He spun and saw the barrel of Stu's pistol pointed in the area where he had been standing. A body, tall and thin, was sliding down the other side of the railings, its long reaching arm dropping to the floor and coming to rest on the exact spot where Steve had been.
"They nearly had you then, Steve." Stu continued to stare at the corpse that he had just shot through the head. "Jesus, he was a big lanky fucker too."
Steve stepped back towards Helen, Lee and Jake. His ears were ringing and a shiver coursed along his spine at the thought of the creature’s long arms managing to get a grip on him and pulling him towards the gate, into hundreds of grasping hands.
"Why are so many coming here?" Helen asked as she stared out at the gate, rubbing her hand between Steve's shoulder blades.
"Because we're here, and they won't stop coming here until they get in," Stu replied.
Lee nodded. "And there's too many to burn now." He looked over at Steve and spat in anger. "Let me kill that fat bitch that brought them all here. I'll feed her to those things."
Steve shook his head, a finger pressed into his ear as he tried to stem the ringing from the gunshot.
"We'll decide what to do with her some other time. We have a bigger problem at the moment." Steve was speaking louder than usual due to his temporary impaired hearing.
"What problem?" Lee asked, glancing at Steve and then back at the gate.
"The hinges," Stu cut in, "they're starting to come loose."
Sitting in the foyer, as Stu and Steve informed him of the situation, Marcus felt like kicking himself. He wanted to beat himself up over it. Since arriving at the park, he had tried desperately to throw off the cloak of responsibility and settle down into a routine resembling some form of normality with his wife and children. Slowly, but surely, he had begun to relax.
It had been hard at first. In the beginning, he would wake up with a start during the night, confused and unsure of where he was. It would take a while before his brain fought its way through the fog and reminded him that they were safe at the park, and no longer on the long arduous trek across Europe where he needed to be alert and on his guard twenty-four hours a day.
During the first two months, he had constantly patrolled the park, looking for weak spots in its perimeter walls and gates, always asking himself, 'What if?' It was an old habit and one that was hard to beat. He had spent his entire life forming tactical appreciations and risk assessments in his head. For every scenario or
perceived threat, he would automatically begin planning a solution and a number of alternatives.
Now, with Stu pointing out what he already knew, but had refused to acknowledge, he felt as though he had let everybody down.
"Don't be fucking stupid, Marcus," Stu said, sitting on the one of the foyer's large leather sofas next to him. "It's not your job to sort out every problem here you know. Steve has done a good job of it while we were slogging our way home and I'm no retard either. I've done my own appreciations of the situation."
Marcus bit his lip. "So, what's the deal?"
Stu shrugged. "The way I see it, we need to have an evacuation plan."
"We do have an evacuation plan; down the cliff face at the north end of the park and across the fields."
Stu shook his head. "No, mate, that’s an escape plan. We need to look at where we go from there. What are we going to do, wander around in the wilderness like a bunch of gypsies? We have kids, families and older folk here to think of. Not all of them are in the same shape as us, with tactical thinking and experience. So, we need a plan for what we do once we bug-out of this place."
"True," Marcus nodded. "I think it's time we started sending out a few recce missions, to find an alternate safe-haven."
"We'll do it," an eager voice suddenly volunteered from in front of them.
Marcus and Stu looked up to see Stan and Kieran standing ready, as though reporting for duty and with enthusiasm in their eyes.
"I'm sick of sitting on that roof and watching those things, so a day or two out of here would be a nice break," Kieran stated.
Stu smiled. "It wouldn’t be a jolly, you know. I think I would rather have the likes of Jim and Hussein with me on this. They know more about what they're doing and what needs to be done."
"We know what we're doing. Look," Kieran sighed as he stepped forward and squatted down in front of them. "You need our help. We know this area and we need to learn how to do these patrol things and what to look for."
Stu remained silent and glanced at Marcus.