When There's No More Room in Hell 3

by Luke Duffy

  As the gap closed, the body became more excited; its moans changed in pitch and tempo as it reached out. It was completely oblivious to the raised shaft of steel that Andy held in his hands. It was still unaware of it when the weapon crashed down into its head and smashed a hole through its skull.

  Andy searched desperately for somewhere to hide, to evade his followers. They moaned loudly behind him as they attempted to catch up with him, but he was determined not to allow them to get close. He gripped the tyre iron in his hand, ready to use it against any that approached him. He searched frantically for a place to conceal him and evade his pursuers. He turned in circles, eyeing and studying the dark buildings lining the road on either side of him, his panic growing to the point where it was almost blinding.

  There was a sudden flash from behind and the street became filled with a bright and intensifying light. It swathed everything around with a radiance that was so dazzling, nothing other than a blanketing whiteness could be seen, not even his hands, as he raised them up to his face to protect it from the unknown attacker.

  The air seemed to push against him, squeezing in a vice-like grip, and an immense booming sound, louder than anything he ever heard, echoed in his ears, threatening to cave his skull inwards upon itself.

  Andy felt the enormous pressure, and he clasped his hands to the side of his head, expecting to feel something physically enveloping him. His body shook as the vibrations from the detonation raced across the land, threatening to knock him from his feet, as the ground below trembled violently.

  He turned as the blinding light began to fade. Over the rooftops and in the distance, towards the dense city centre, he saw a cloud of fire reaching high into the sky, bubbling and pluming with flame and dust.

  For a moment, he stood in silence, watching in wonder and awe. The crowd that had been following him also stood motionless, staring up at the burning cloud as they began to smoulder from the immense heat given off by the light. They stood with their rotting faces turned up to the sky, mesmerised by the sight, completely unaware of what the vision before them was.

  Then, something inside Andy screamed. A flash of a memory, of a horror that he had once known and remembered from his past life, tore its way through his mind. The image of a similar event thrust itself before his eyes. In that instant, he saw death and destruction on a scale that his misfiring brain could not comprehend. An instinct of approaching danger coursed through his tangled thoughts and withering body. The only thing he could really grasp, was that he needed to find somewhere to hide, quickly.

  While the crowd of grotesque and abominable monsters stood rooted to the ground all around him, Andy staggered towards a building close by. The door that once was barricaded now lay askew with the wreckage of its defences scattered across the ground. He smashed his way in through the entrance and into the darkness, searching for a place to hide and protect himself from the approaching doom.

  The earth shook below his feet and the building began to quiver, as the initial blast wave arrived. An intense, thundering, bang rocked the very foundations beneath him. The windows exploded, shattering into a million pieces and sending their fragments in all directions like glass missiles. Plaster and large pieces of loose masonry fell from the walls and ceiling as the vibrations threatened to bring the building down around him.

  Andy was out of time. He moaned loudly against the crescendo that filled his ears, as he realised he was about to be destroyed in the explosion that would arrive at any moment. He felt a sorrow rise up within him as he considered that he would never look upon the birds fluttering cheerfully in the sky again. He would never watch the sway of green and radiant trees as the wind gently blew against their branches, and the long blades of grass that danced in the fields.

  He looked down at the floor, resigned, and waiting for the end.

  In front of him was a set of concrete stairs built into the frame of the building. Below that, a door led into a cupboard on the underside of the staircase. Andy reached for the handle and pulled it open. The darkness of the interior loomed out at him, making him hesitate, but then he remembered the urgency of what he needed to do. He climbed inside, slamming the door shut behind him. He crawled into the corner, knocking over glass bottles and plastic containers that were scattered about the floor of the enclosure.

  Through the cracks in the door, Andy could see an intense glow as the heat wave arrived and incinerated everything in its path. The others like him, which were still on the street, were engulfed by flames and turned to charred lifeless statues and ash in an instant.

  The door to his sanctuary began to glow as the heat penetrated it and began to reduce it to nothing, leaving him unprotected against the fire. He looked down and saw that his fingertips were beginning to glow red, as the heat fought its way into the shelter, subjecting his body to the high temperatures.

  In a moment of clarity, he reached for one of the closest bottles, which he knocked over as he crashed into the dark closet. Without further hesitation, he raised the bottle and emptied the contents onto his hands, extinguishing the flames that threatened to erupt from his dried leathery skin. He grabbed more containers and quickly poured them over the entire surface of his body, drenching himself in the fluid and staving off the effects of the heat wave that threatened to engulf him.

  He watched, terror filling his every sense along with a feeling of complete helplessness. He knew that he could do nothing; there was nowhere left for him to hide. He was going to be destroyed in this place, cowering in the corner below the stairs as the world quaked around him in the roaring heat and howling winds.

  The glowing door of Andy's hiding place was abruptly ripped away. The concrete stairs above him trembled violently as large clumps of stone fell from the structure. Outside, he saw the remainder of the building disappear into a whirling cloud of grey dust that enveloped him, as he remained protected beneath the stairs.

  The ground shook and heaved beneath him as the screaming shockwave rocked the earth. Buildings exploded and crumbled beneath the onslaught, reducing the streets of the city to nothing more than piles of smouldering brick and twisted metal.

  The steel frames of the building around him groaned as they were warped, and then ripped from their foundations. They carried tons of debris, exploding into deadly whirls of flying dust and metal, and smashing their way through anything in their path, as they were carried along in the blast wave.

  Andy curled into a ball and raised his hands above his head in an attempt to protect himself from the collapsing building. The noise of the shockwave and erupting buildings drowned out the howls and moans that he involuntarily emitted, as everything around him seemed to be obliterated.

  Gradually, the roaring winds and heat of the blast died down, leaving a trail of destruction behind as the dust slowly settled over him. He was afraid, there was no mistaking that, and he remained curled up in his hideout for some time afterwards, staring out through the gaping hole where the door used to be, and at the total devastation around him.

  After a long time of sitting in silence in his protective shelter, Andy finally rose to his feet and climbed out through the warped and battered doorframe.

  He paused, standing in the ashes and rubble, observing his new surroundings. The building looked distinctly different now.

  All around him, walls burst and collapsed in on themselves, leaving large gaping holes peering out into the streets. Steel support beams tumbled from their housings, bringing down much of the upper floors as the building imploded. The floor was strewn with large lumps of concrete and wood, charred and discoloured from the immense heat.

  Andy looked up and saw that the upper floors, including the roof, had completely disappeared. Even the top part of the staircase under which he sheltered was gone, torn away by the explosion.

  The only thing that remained intact was the cupboard beneath the stairs where Andy had sought refuge. The thick and heavily built concrete steps, along with the enclosed space beneath was char
red, but other than that, barely scratched.

  Unbeknown to Andy, the building was old and had not been used or renovated for many years. The asbestos lining the walls of his hiding place absorbed most of the intense heat, and saved him from perishing like the others.

  He looked down at himself to check on his condition. His skin was dry, blistering in parts and scorched in others, but overall, the damage was minimal. His fingers suffered the worst, singeing the tips to the point where the flesh crumbled, exposing the white bone beneath.

  He grunted as he studied his damaged hands, but he remembered that he was fortunate to have survived at all. He turned to the area where the door once stood and carefully began to make his way across, conscious of where he placed each step.

  Out in the street, the landscape of the city was transformed into a desolate wasteland of rubble and twisted metal. Fires raged all around and dense plumes of smoke rose into the sky. Very few buildings remained standing, and those that did, only their frames survived.

  The destruction was complete.

  Charred and misshapen bodies lay amongst the wreckage, burned and crushed as the buildings collapsed on them. All around, smashed skulls and dismembered limbs lay strewn over a vast area, all mixed in with the debris that were the remains of the city.

  Nothing moved. There were no sounds; not even the moans of the despicable beings that just a short while ago, wailed incessantly as they staggered through the streets, en masse. Andy looked back towards where the centre of the city once stood. Still rising high into the sky, the remains of the dark cloud that created such devastation, slowly dispersed out into the atmosphere.

  It was time for him to leave.

  He suddenly remembered the people he had been trying to follow, and then a sense of urgency filled him, making him feel afraid. It was not fear for himself, but for the living people who had been human enough to spare him all those months ago.

  He staggered forward, picking his way through the rubble, smouldering cars, and collapsed buildings as he headed for the country.

  As he walked, he heard a thundering in the distance and the ground beneath him began to shudder. He turned in panic, thinking that it was all about to happen over again. This time, there was no giant cloud of fire or blinding flash. What he saw was a tall building close to the city centre that had stubbornly stood up to the blast, and now began to tumble to the ground. The upper floors collapsed in on themselves on one side, creating a chain reaction that brought the whole structure crashing to the street in a cloud of dust and flying rubble.

  Andy let out a long mournful moan as he witnessed the final death throes of the city.

  Despite its grotesque and horrific residents, the destruction created a great sadness inside of him, as he remembered how it would have once been in a time when the living people ruled the world.

  A few days later, as he shuffled along a wide road that twisted its way through the countryside, Andy stopped. Up ahead, he saw columns of smoke drifting into the air and a mass of dark figures crowding the road.

  He advanced carefully, keeping his distance from the roaming creatures that filled the area. Through the acrid smoke that hung low, shrouding the ground, he saw numerous shadows drifting in and out of the dense, black, swirling clouds.

  On closer inspection, he saw that it was the remains of burning trucks; the same trucks he saw his captors leaving in as they escaped from the city.

  They were riddled with holes and charred down to their frames. Glass and debris littered the road and amongst them, the stripped and dismembered bones of dozens of people.

  The mass of feeding figures clambering around the vehicles fought and tore at one another over the scraps, gnawing at body parts, and growling at any that approached them while they ravaged the remains.

  Andy kept his distance. He felt no desire to join in on the feeding frenzy, or to scavenge the scraps of flesh that still littered the road. Instead, he remained separated from the others like him, watching with a great sadness tearing at him from inside.

  9

  Stu saw the flash of light from the bomb and so did the others. Even the immense crowd of dead that swarmed and surrounded their vehicles stopped to gaze up at the dazzling white light and the fiery ball that rose up on the horizon. They were mesmerised by it, and every one of them seemed to forget about the five living people inside the two Range Rovers that they were so desperate to get at just moments before.

  Stu reached for his radio. "Jim, you seeing what I'm seeing?"

  Jim's voice came through in his earpiece, gravelly and little more than a whisper. "Yeah, someone dropped a goddamn atom bomb," he said slowly, stating the obvious.

  "No, Jim," Stu replied, "apart from the bomb, look around you."

  Stu nodded to Hussein at his side and gestured to the sea of bodies that now stood motionless around them.

  "They're too busy watching the pretty lights, Jim. If we try to move the vehicles, we might grab their attention again, so we need to debus and make a run for it."

  Jim's voice was more animated now. "Fuck, you serious, man?"

  "Just a few seconds ago, we couldn’t move because there were so many of them. We still won't be able to move now unless we go on foot. It's either that, or we die here once they’ve had enough of watching the giant pretty mushroom."

  They were trapped in a street with the dead converging on all sides. Despite the power of the engines, the two off-road vehicles were bogged down due to the sheer number of bodies pressing against them. Their wheels lost traction in the organic swamp below, as putrefied flesh and bone churned up under the tyres. They became stuck in an ocean of gaunt dead faces with no possibility of escape.

  The two Range Rovers had taken a beating for twenty minutes as the horde pressed in and assaulted the vehicles. Their endless attacks rocked the machines from side to side, tossing the occupants around like survivors of a shipwreck, clinging to a raft on a rough sea. Skeletal faces and emaciated, withered hands pounded at the windows, their howls and moans rising to a crescendo, attracting more dead to the scene by the minute.

  Stu and the others believed that they were finished and would not be able to hold out for much longer. The vehicles were going nowhere and they did not have the ammunition to fight their way out of their predicament. They watched in horror as the windows were cracked and the doors slowly buckled and splintered. It was only a matter of moments before they would shatter the glass, leaving them defenceless against the thousands of flesh-hungry creatures.

  Then, the bright white light appeared, bathing the whole area and making everything look as though they were in an old sepia photograph. As Stu and the others shielded their eyes from the intense glow, the mass of reanimated bodies around them stopped. They turned and stared up into the sky, completely forgetting their lust for living flesh.

  The area had fallen into stillness and silence.

  "It's now or never, Jim," Stu informed him. "We need to move before they get bored of looking at the bomb and realise we're still sitting here like a pair of giant lunch boxes."

  "Roger that." Jim's voice sounded less than sure of the decision, but he obviously realised that Stu was right. "Where do we go?"

  Stu looked around him. Thousands of grey, black, and brown, grotesque statues surrounded them, their faces turned up to the sky. He had no idea of where to go. He searched desperately, looking for even the slightest glimmer of hope to head for.

  The street was lined with buildings, shops, businesses, and even bars. He looked past Hussein then back to his right. He saw an area where the dead were less densely packed. Beyond them, he saw the large leaded and colourful windows of a pub. Above the door, he read the name, 'The Nelson', a building named in honour of the 'Hero of Trafalgar', Admiral Lord Nelson.

  "Get out on the right, slowly and quietly, and head for the 'Nelson' pub," he instructed calmly over the radio.

  Cringing to himself and praying that the doors would not creak and groan as they opened, Stu grasped
the handle. He turned to Hussein and nodded, placing his forefinger against his lips, instructing his friend to remain silent. The locking mechanism clicked quietly and he began to push the door outwards.

  An emaciated and misshapen figure was standing close by, only allowing him to open the door a foot or so. With his assault vest and weapons, he would not be able to squeeze through without becoming snagged or making a noise. He winced and began gently, and very slowly, pushing the door a little further.

  The steel delicately made contact with the figure's back. Stu held his breath and gingerly began to press the door further still. He could feel the weight of the creature against it as he increased the gap between the door and the frame. The figure on the other side of the glass did not turn at the sudden pressure from behind. It merely shuffled its feet forward a little, its eyes glued to the heavens.

  Stu breathed a silent sigh of relief.

  He clutched his pistol in one hand, letting his rifle hang by his side, attached to the sling. At such close quarters, with so many of the dead surrounding them, the pistol would be much easier to wield. With the other hand, he gripped the doorframe as he carefully stepped out into the street, his toes touching the floor first, and then rolling on to the ball of his foot, and then his heel to avoid making any noise.

  He stood still for a moment and looked around him. The natural light of the day was fading fast, but it was replaced by the artificial glow of the nuclear bomb that exploded in the far distance.

  He could see Jim and the others doing the same, slowly emerging from the death traps that the two vehicles had become. Surrounding him, the dead stood motionless. He had never been so close to them without being attacked, and now a morbid curiosity caused him to hesitate as he studied the hundreds of rotting corpses that refused to remain dead.

  Their stench was enough to make him want to hold his breath until he was far away from them. The air was thick with insects of all kinds, as they buzzed and crawled from one body to the next, nesting and feeding in the rotting flesh. Their clothing hung from their bodies, filthy, torn, and shredded. Trousers were frayed and shirts ripped to shreds and hanging open as they slowly dissolved into nothing. Some had lost their shoes, exposing their rotting feet, and the flesh slowly eroding from their bones as they continued to shuffle and scrape along the hard roads and pavements. A number of the dead were even naked, either having reanimated that way, or the clothing had been torn from them over the months.