When There's No More Room in Hell 3

by Luke Duffy

  "Don’t shoot," Jim called over his shoulder to Kieran and Stan. "You'll just bring out more of them. Keep up, and don’t shoot."

  More and more shadowy figures emerged from the crashed cars and ruined buildings to join in the pursuit. They staggered, hobbled, and crawled in all states of decomposition, some with such damage that all they could do was drag themselves along at an extremely slow pace. Others were more mobile and moved at a much quicker pace as they closed in on the five living men sprinting towards the partially destroyed showroom.

  Stu had reached the junction where the traffic lights had once controlled the thousands of vehicles that passed through them on a daily basis. Now, they stood in silence, watching over the dead roads and ruined cars.

  He quickly turned to his left as he reached the battered frame of the large truck and headed directly towards the visitor's parking area at the side of the showroom. The area was fast becoming filled with the lurching dead, reaching out to them, moaning and growling as they advanced.

  Jim could see the swarms of dead that appeared all around them as he sprinted after Stu. They appeared so quickly and almost out of nowhere.

  "Where the fuck they all coming from…?" he growled between gulps of air. "It's as if someone's rung the goddamn dinner bell."

  The side entrance to the building was just metres away. The door was closed and Stu began to time his run and adjust his stride. He launched himself off his left foot, throwing the weight of his body forward towards his target with his right leg raised and locked at the knee. The flat of his boot crashed against the hard wooden door, just centimetres to the right of the lock. His knee jarred and the shockwave from the impact juddered up his leg and into his hips. The door splintered at the lock and it smashed inwards from the frame with a loud crash while the momentum of the run and kick carried him forwards into the gloomy interior, where he landed on his feet in a semi-crouch.

  He raised his weapon immediately, quickly scanning the area to ensure they were not running into a mob of flesh hungry ghouls that were waiting for them inside the showroom.

  "In, get in here," he cried out to Hussein, who was close on his heels.

  Jim piled in through the doorway next, quickly followed by Kieran and Stan.

  They were in a small reception room where Stu imagined the potential customers would sit and be dazzled by all the jargon and statistics that the salesmen would bombard them with. Two interior doorways led away from the room; Stu guessed that one would be to the shop floor and the other to the garage at the rear of the building. There was a desk in one corner, still displaying a number of colourful and eye-catching brochures and a couple of large sofas placed up against the walls. In the far corner stood two vending machines, one for drinks and the other for snacks.

  "Block the door," Stu ordered Kieran and Stan. "Jim, go to the back with Hussein and see if you can get any of the vehicles started."

  Kieran and Stan began piling the office furniture against the exterior door. Stu helped drag the vending machines into place before barricading the door that he suspected led out to the shop front. He remembered the broken windows and did not like the idea of the dead realising they could just waltz in on them from the other direction.

  The pursuing corpses had already reached the building and began to hammer and pound at the door as Stu, Kieran and Stan hauled the furniture against it. Stu stepped back, eyeing the barricade as the frame quivered and shook while the creatures smashed their bodies against it, their cries and wails muffled by the thick wooden door.

  The defences would not hold for long; Stu knew that, but it was the best they could do and he hoped that the addition of the two heavy vending machines would give them enough time to get a couple of vehicles and get out.

  "You two," he said, turning to Kieran and Stan. "Watch the doors. Don’t go noisy unless you have to, and by that, I mean those fuckers are coming through the barricade."

  Kieran nodded. "Just don’t forget about us," he said, as Stu turned and headed for the workshop.

  In the garage, Jim and Hussein conducted a sweep of the large workshop, ensuring that there were no surprises waiting for them. A thin layer of dust coated every surface and beams of sunlight drifting in through the frosted glass panes above illuminated the spacious room just enough for them to navigate their way around.

  Tools, spare wheels and mechanic's diagnostic equipment lay scattered all about. There were a number of vehicles sitting silently in the open area by the mechanics stations. Jim nodded silently to himself, realising that Stu had already anticipated their situation.

  The vehicles in the garage were more likely to be easier to start. Stu knew that when a customer had made a purchase, the mechanics would go to work on the car, carrying out final inspections and servicing before they were released to the buyer. There would also be battery packs, hopefully, still containing enough charge and power to get the engines started.

  Jim and Hussein got to work and began collecting the keys from the board hanging above a workstation. Stu joined them, and after singling out two brand new Range Rovers, he hauled over the large battery pack and jump leads that he found in the corner. He touched the two points together and felt his heart soar as they crackled and sparked.

  Jim was quickly flicking the bonnet catches on the vehicles and checking over the wheels. He climbed into one and pushed his foot down on the clutch, knowing that it would have the new style keyless ignition system. He pushed in the start button and the dashboard display lit up, revealing a full tank of fuel. He pushed the ignition again and the engine whined, but failed to turn over.

  "I got it," Stu shouted without waiting for Jim to try again. He quickly attached the jump leads while Jim moved on to the next Range Rover.

  Stu looked up as the engine in the second vehicle sputtered then turned over; clouds of dust and exhaust plumed from the rear before the engine settled into a low grumbling hum. Jim threw him the thumbs up and grinned as he jumped from the driver's seat and back into the first Range Rover. He nodded and hit the ignition. The starter motor clicked and whirred but still failed to start the engine.

  "Shit," Stu hissed.

  "Give it another minute of charge," Jim shouted from behind the wheel.

  "We don’t have another minute," Hussein called back to them.

  He was standing close to the large steel sliding doors of the garage. They rocked and vibrated as more of the dead attacked it from outside.

  "Fuck it," Stu shouted, ripping the jump leads from the large battery pack.

  He ran across to the vehicle that was running and connected the leads to the terminals. Jumping into the driver's seat, he pressed his foot down hard on the accelerator pedal. The revolutions of the engine soared and Stu watched as the needle on the dashboard shot over to the right and into the red. He released his foot, waited a couple of seconds, and then repeated the action three more times.

  "Try it now," Stu shouted across to Jim with an encouraging nod of his head.

  Jim's vehicle coughed and groaned but feeling a spark of life in the engine, he wasted no time and pushed his foot down on the accelerator. The motor caught and the engine snarled as it was brought back from the dead. Jim continued pumping his foot, watching the revolutions rise and fall for a few more seconds.

  "That’s it, we got it, Stu," he shouted excitedly over the din of the two engines.

  Hussein ran to the front, started securing the hoods to the cars while Jim and Stu threw them into gear, then began manoeuvring them inside the large garage so that they were facing the shutters. They could drive straight out when the time came to make their escape.

  A series of loud cracks rang out, their report echoing around the large garage. A moment later, Kieran and Stan appeared at the door, their eyes like saucers. They were screaming something that Stu could not make out. He did not need to hear what they were saying; their actions spoke volumes.

  The dead were inside.

  "Get the door open, Hussein," Stu shouted. />
  The young Iraqi sprinted to the far side and released the heavy lock. He would need to be fast on his feet to get to one of the Range Rovers once he opened the large sliding door. He gripped the steel handle and took in a deep breath. He was sweating profusely and his heart pounded in his chest.

  He pulled with all his strength as more gunfire broke out in the confines of the workshop. Stan and Kieran were firing into the doorway leading from the reception room and into the garage, pumping countless rounds at the horde of reanimated corpses flooding in through the destroyed barricade.

  The heavy steel door slid open a metre then jammed as Hussein continued to heave. A figure fell through the gap, quickly followed by another, then another. They turned and saw Hussein standing just a few feet from them.

  He felt his stomach churn with terror but he could not run to safety. If he did not get the door open, they would all be trapped. Again, he pulled with all the force he could muster, growling and hollering with the strain.

  The steel door moved again. It screeched and squealed in protest as it was dragged along its rusted runners, but it was moving.

  More of the dead fell through the doorway and into the garage, and began to stagger towards Hussein. Stu leaned out from his driver's seat and began firing at the crowd with his pistol, taking out the closest with precision headshots.

  Just one more heave and the gap was large enough. Hussein turned on his heel, and sprinted back to the passenger side of the Range Rover just as the first of the dead reached him. He lunged for the vehicle while the creatures began to stagger into the garage from the room that Kieran and Stan had been defending. He sidestepped the first of them as it reached out to him. He brought his rifle up and shot another at point blank range, its brains flying from the back of its head in a grey and black mist.

  He turned and threw himself into the passenger seat, slamming the door hard behind him, trapping the hand of one of the dead and severing it at the wrist. Through the window, he watched as the deceased man pulled his handless stump away from the vehicle and studied it for a moment in confusion. He looked back up at Hussein, his eyes growing wide. Then he hurled himself at the passenger window, leaving dark smears of coagulated blood as he bit and gnarled at the glass.

  "Go, Stu, let's go," Hussein screamed as fear gripped him.

  Stu slammed his foot down and released the clutch. The gears caught and the heavy vehicle thrust forward towards the bright sunlight outside. More bodies were entering the workshop and hammering against the vehicle but the engines of the Range Rovers were strong and ploughed through the crowd as they picked up speed.

  The passengers inside were tossed and buffeted about as the wheels churned the bodies into the floor of the garage; the four-wheel drive did its job well and easily cut a path through and over the dozens of dead that fell beneath the vehicle.

  "Go, go, Stu," Jim screamed from behind the wheel of the rear Range Rover. He was terrified of a stall and being overwhelmed by the mass of bodies pressing against them.

  Stu's vehicle thrust its way out of the showroom workshop and into the open. Keeping his foot on the accelerator, he quickly changed gear and spun the heavy car to the right, heading for the junction and the main road that led away from the swarms of voracious walking dead.

  6

  It was late morning and the old Land Rover rocked from side to side as it traversed the rough ground at the northern end of the Safari Park. Gary and Sophie were being tossed around inside like a pair of rag dolls as the wheels slid in and out of the deep, muddy troughs of the dirt track. They were on their daily rounds of the animal pens, checking on their wellbeing and conditions.

  Gary forced the wheel over to the right as they reached the northeast corner and dropped the vehicle down into second gear in order to climb the steep rise in the ground. The engine raced as the wheels dug into the gravel and forced them up the bank.

  To the left, Sophie watched intently at the area where the trees covered the track leading down to the rear gate. The dirt road disappeared into the gloom, swallowed up by the black cavernous mouth created by the shadows of the overhanging foliage. She shivered, knowing that just a short way along the track, thousands of rotting and ravenous walking corpses beat themselves at the barrier, trying to get into the park. She pictured the barricade becoming loose and the chains that secured the fence falling free during the night, the hordes of dead spilling into the interior of the park. The thought frightened her and she tried desperately to force it from her mind.

  "I'm not sure how much longer this old thing is going to be able to carry on doing this sort of stuff, Sophie," Gary announced, breaking her train of thought.

  "Yeah, well, according to what I've heard, we may not be here for too much longer. Once Stu and the others are back, Marcus says they will begin looking at other places, more secure than this," she replied.

  Although the conversation was not a million miles away from what she had just been thinking, it was a welcome deviation.

  Gary snorted. "How could we be any safer? We have big walls and heavy steel gates protecting us. We've been here since the beginning and we're still here."

  "We haven't always been safe though, Gary," she reminded him.

  The vehicle suddenly dipped again as it hit another rut in the road. She reached out and pushed back against the dashboard, stopping herself from colliding with the hard moulded plastic.

  "Remember a few months back when they got in? John and Carl were almost eaten by them and got stranded in a bloody tree."

  "Ah, but you're forgetting, Sophie," he said without taking his eyes off the track ahead of them, "it was Stephanie that let them in. They didn’t get in by themselves."

  Sophie was starting to get annoyed at his overconfidence in the ability of the park and walls to continue protecting them. She had listened as Stu and Steve told them about things that could eventually happen.

  She knew about the weakening hinges and brackets of the main gate and she understood that there could be more unforeseen incidents of people letting the creatures in. They were surrounded and under siege by thousands of the dead and their supplies were far from endless.

  She also remembered what Stu had said:

  "Murphy's Law of Combat; 'what can go wrong…will go wrong."

  Gary's refusal to acknowledge the possibility of having to move frustrated her; she struggled to understand why he was so determined not to accept the possibility that the park defences could eventually collapse.

  "Look, I know you love this place…" she began, but Gary raised his hand.

  "It's not that," he cut in, shaking his head. He sighed and glanced across at her. "It's Karen, she's sick."

  He turned back to the road, biting his lip and waiting for the inevitable question.

  Sophie frowned, but she knew what he meant. She just did not want to say the words.

  "Maybe Stu and Helen could help her," she suggested, knowing there was nothing they could do.

  Gary shook his head. "You know they can't, Sophie. Years ago, we went through this once before. She had the surgery that removed the lump, and the radiotherapy afterwards almost killed her on its own."

  He brought the vehicle to a sudden halt and climbed out from behind the wheel, stepping into the cold air and breathing deeply, fighting against the emotions that bubbled up inside of him.

  Sophie followed him and moved around to the front where he was leaning against the wheel arch, his hands folded across his chest and his eyes cast downward to the ground. She did not know what to say.

  "There's nothing that anyone can do, Sophie. I cannot watch her suffer with this again. When the time comes," he looked up at her, his eyes wet with tears, "I will do what needs to be done to ease her suffering."

  Sophie felt Gary's words wash over her like a tsunami of ice. "Surely you don’t mean that?"

  Gary nodded. "I do mean it." He looked up at her and smiled. "And please, don’t call me 'Shirley'."

  For a second, her brow fu
rrowed in confusion, and then she got the joke. She smiled politely and shrugged.

  "You need to think about this, Gary."

  "I have done," he replied with an air of resignation. "I've thought long and hard about it and dragging her away from here, where she has made a home, would be more suffering for her. I feel that she wouldn’t be able to stand it."

  Sophie could see that his mind was made up. She looked down at the ground and scuffed at the gravel with the sole of her walking boot. She was about to speak again when they were suddenly bathed in a bright light. The whole area was immersed in a brilliance of white, more dazzling than the sun.

  "What the hell is that…?" Sophie exclaimed as she squinted and pivoted on her heel.

  The two of them turned, looking for the source. The light seemed to emit from a point on the distant horizon to the south. It was brighter than the sun, so strong that Gary and Sophie had to shield their eyes.

  Above them, the thin wisps of cloud hanging lazily in the pale blue sky were suddenly swept away by an invisible and silent force that seemed to race through the atmosphere in all directions.

  The light, after a few seconds of intensity, began to fade. Sophie and Gary remained standing still, watching the horizon and hoping that the cause would be revealed. As the light faded, the ground beneath their feet vibrated and a low concussion, followed by a continuous rumbling, reached their ears.

  Gary's eyes grew wide as he watched the distant skyline reveal its secret. His head began to spin and he had to bend himself double, bracing his hands against his thighs as the realisation dawned on him and his eyes saw, what his mind struggled to comprehend.

  "Oh shit," he grumbled.

  Sophie was still watching the light, trying to make sense of the vision that was still not fully clear to her. She turned at the sound of Gary's voice.

  "What? What is it, Gary?" she asked, desperate to know what it was that had clearly unsettled him from his usually rock solid foundations.

  "No, no, it can't be," he said, speaking to the ground, shaking his head as his stomach flipped and churned. "Please, don’t let it be this."