When There's No More Room in Hell 3

by Luke Duffy

  It sailed through the air, no higher than a few centimetres from the ground, and collided with the tall fence of the garden with a resounding thump and rattle. It finally rolled to a stop in the long, unkempt weeds that sprung from the neglected flowerbed running around the perimeter of the garden.

  Andy groaned with a delight that surged up from within him and released a renewed energy, making him want to kick it again. He remembered the joy he had gained from the same activity in the past as he and many others ran about, hollering to one another, kicking the ball for long distances and then sprinting after it.

  Recollections of himself racing along a field, calling out to his fellow players chasing a football with vitality that he could no longer match, flooded his brain, and released an avalanche of powerful emotions.

  He lumbered after the ball on rickety legs and, again, threw out his leg and kicked it once more. More grunts and groans erupted from his throat in triumph as he watched the round object glide through the air, higher and further with each kick, as he became more accurate with his aim.

  For the entire day, Andy chased it around the large garden. The sounds of his groans of accomplishment and the crashes and bangs as the ball ricocheted from the fence, garden furniture and walls of the house, echoed long into the night.

  He took the football with him and, for a long time, gently nudged it ahead of him with his foot as he continued his endless journey through the winding and twisting country lanes. Sometimes he would give it a powerful strike and send it bounding along the road, filling him with joy as he chased after it with clumsy strides.

  The game came to an abrupt end when, on the second day, Andy launched the football with a powerful boot and sent it flying along the lane and into a ditch at the roadside. The trough was deep and filled with sludge, tangles of wire and broken branches and the ball sat snared in the centre, half-buried in the mire.

  With a heavy heart, he had to leave the beloved sphere behind for fear of risking irreparable injury to his fragile body while trying to retrieve it. He continued along the country roads, alone and without the company of his football, feeling a sense of despair as he stared at the road below his shuffling feet.

  His solitude was complete.

  The few people that remained were afraid of him and would either run away or try to hurt him. The birds would never stay still long enough for him to get close to as they hopped along the tops of the hedgerows or pecked at the dirt on the roadside. The radiant and colourful flowers that he picked soon withered and died in his cold and twisted hands.

  Andy was lonely.

  His disgust and loathing for the others like him meant that he would always be caught between the two new worlds. The world of the living, and the world of the dead, and neither of them would ever accept him.

  Cautiously, he continued forward. He was getting closer, and now, the howls of pain and terror had ceased, but the moving shapes that blocked his path remained. They were more visible now and Andy could see that they were figures with arms, legs and teeth. Biting, tearing teeth that ravaged everything before them, devouring flesh from bone. They were the figures of the repulsive monsters that he feared and despised.

  He could hear their grunts and growls as they fought with one another over something that was on the ground in front of them. They snatched the shreds of meat from each other's hands and slurped hungrily as they stuffed the bloodied pulps into their gaping mouths.

  When he was close and able to see clearly, Andy stopped and studied the scene just twenty metres ahead of him. A group of grey and grotesque beings knelt in the road over a torn open carcass. Its innards were spread in a wide area and the creatures feeding on them gorged and scoffed at the long strands of bloodied intestine, as they snatched clumps of flesh from one another and off the ground.

  Two of the figures were tugging at the ribcage of the carcass, as they attempted to prise it open further to reach every morsel of flesh from within. Andy could hear the slap of blood-soaked meat against the hard tarmac of the road, and the sickening crack of bone as the ribcage was wrenched open and snapped from the spinal column.

  He felt no desire to join them in their feast, or to snatch what meat he could and scurry away to feed. He wanted nothing to do with what the foul creatures did because he was not like them. He knew that he appeared much the same, but in his mind, though working less perfectly than it once had, he was completely different and held nothing in common with the monsters that now roamed the surface of the earth.

  There was a gap to the left of the road. It was large enough to allow him to pass without coming into contact with the group. He decided that he would attempt to slip by the feeding misshapen monsters and continue on his way along the road.

  Carefully, moving slowly so that he did not attract their attention with any sudden or clumsy movements, Andy moved towards the left hand edge of the road and began to negotiate his way through to the other side.

  The ground beneath his feet was awash with blood and small pieces of blood-stained meat. Small shards of broken and gnawed bone lay discarded in a wide arc around the area of the carcass as the voracious creatures tore and stripped away the flesh from their victim.

  Andy's foot scraped on a sliver of bone that then became lodged in the grip of his shoe and scratched at the surface of the road. The noise attracted the attention of the others and they turned to look at him, their concentration dragged from the bloodied remains on the ground. They snarled at him as they protectively crowded around their lifeless victim. Their pale and gaunt faces contrasted harshly with the smeared and glistening blood covering their features. Their sunken dark eyes watched Andy as he continued forward, shuffling through the narrow space between them and the edge of the road as he attempted to pass by them.

  Without warning, the closest of the group, a creature that had once been a young and pretty woman, turned on him, groaning aggressively and reaching out towards him. She lashed at him with her clawed bony hands, catching Andy in the abdomen before he was able to step back or defend himself against the assault.

  Her withered fingers, as sharp as talons, tore at the flesh of Andy's stomach, and ripped a long, gaping wound in his belly that threatened to tear further against the weight of his intestines and other internal organs pressing at the gash from within.

  Andy clutched at his wound and shuffled backwards from his attacker as she approached for another assault. She wailed and snarled as she lunged again with her hands outstretched before her, reaching for his face and neck.

  Suddenly, she dropped to the right and hit the ground with a loud crunch as her head bounced from the tarmac. A hole had appeared in the left hand side of her head, exposing the smashed skull and mangled brain.

  Andy remained still, staring at the body at his feet and clutching the bloodied tyre iron in one hand and his torn abdomen in the other. He growled in anger at the fallen creature as he looked down and studied the damage she had inflicted on him. With a rage that seemed to fill his every thought, he brought the iron bar down again with all the force he could muster. It smashed into her head with a loud crunch, cracking the skull and separating the top half of the cranium from the rest of the head.

  The exposed brain, pulped and coated in black, coagulated blood, oozed from the gaping hole in the dead woman's skull. Andy began to raise the weapon and pound away at the body repeatedly, smashing the head to an indistinguishable mush and almost severing it completely from the body, leaving it attached by just a few strands of sinew and vertebrae.

  When it was no longer recognisable as a human face, Andy stopped. The remaining figures watched him, as they stayed crouched over the carcass in the road. None of them moved towards him, and after a moment of study, they turned their attention back to devouring the remains of the unfortunate creature that had wandered across their path.

  Andy moved on, keeping his distance but his eyes remaining fixed on the despicable and misshapen monsters gorging themselves close by.

  Only whe
n he was almost clear of them did Andy realise that what they were feeding on was a dog. Its brown and black furry tail protruded out from beneath its bloodied and churned body. Its head lay discarded in a thick pool of blood just a short distance from the ravaging creatures.

  He staggered onwards along the road, away from the revolting scene, holding onto the gaping wound in his stomach. He felt terrified of the damage that had been caused to him and he continually glanced down at his injuries, moaning softly to himself as he caught glimpses of his fetid innards protruding through the tear in his flesh.

  He needed to find a way of repairing the damage. He was well aware that if left, the hole would tear further, compromising his flesh and threatening any chance of his continued existence.

  Andy knew that the damage was not enough to finish him, but he also knew that if he left it untreated, the damage would spread and cause further harm to his already deteriorated body. In his mixed up and jumbled thought process, he was incapable of forming a solution to his predicament.

  At a safe distance, he stopped and attempted to close his jacket over the wound, but no matter how hard he tried, the zipper would not fasten. His clumsy fingers and ill coordination added to his frustration and the state of his clothing was a further hindrance. The jacket that he wore was rotten and encrusted with filth. Grime and his own decaying flesh had penetrated every fibre, including the teeth on the zip. He let out a long groan in annoyance as he pictured his slow demise due to the damage caused in the attack from the foul and repulsive creature in the road.

  A small sense of satisfaction grew within him as he remembered the death that he had dealt out to his assailant, but it was short lived.

  No amount of vengeance would fix him.

  He groaned again, louder and more poignant as he stared down at the tear in his flesh. He could see the swollen blue and grey internal organs pushing at the opening from inside, swarming with pale and bloated maggots that squirmed and riddled about in the soft tissue.

  Panic and a feeling of complete defencelessness began to rise inside of him. He realised that, if he was attacked again there was little he could do to protect himself while in the condition he was in. He could easily find himself as nothing more than a limbless writhing mess, discarded in the middle of the road, like the countless bones strewn around the cities after being picked clean.

  Something moved to his right within the thick bushes at the roadside. He spun in fear of another assault, raising the tyre iron above his head and ready to crush the skull of his foe.

  The anticipated attack never came and Andy could see nothing.

  He was about to continue walking when he heard a sound coming from the same bushes he had sensed movement from. He did not recognise the noise, but he somehow felt a sense of familiarity towards it.

  It was not the moan of another of the beasts like him, nor was it the sound of a bird in the hedgerow, twittering and chirping as it hopped from branch to branch.

  This sound was very different from what he was used to.

  Andy stooped slightly, bending his creaking knees and craning his neck in an attempt to see into the thick undergrowth at the side of the country lane. It was hard to see anything in the shadow of the hedgerow and, at first; he hesitated in moving forward to inspect the source of the strange noise that he had heard.

  The sound came again, clearer and louder than before now that his attention was focussed on listening for it. He stepped back slightly in apprehension, afraid of what could be creating the noise and concerned for his own safety.

  The strange whimpering continued.

  Andy's brow furrowed as he tried desperately to understand what the sound was and what was causing it. Suddenly, as though the comprehension had been thrust into his mind from the outside, he realised that there was no danger to him from the source of the sound. He crouched again and began to edge his way forward.

  There, squatting amongst the bushes and barely visible, was a small form. It stared back at him, its bright eyes wild with fear and its body trembling as it watched the monstrous figure of Andy creeping towards it.

  The figure whimpered and held its hands up to its face, covering its vision from the advancing terror that slowly approached with each step.

  Andy stopped, suddenly alarmed that others may have seen him and become curious in his actions. He raised himself upright and looked along the length of the road to his left and right. Nothing moved in either direction and he was calmed in the realisation that he was still alone and unseen.

  The bushes shook and branches snapped as the figure jumped to its feet and in a stoop, began to force its way through the tangled hedgerow, fighting its way through and out to the far side, away from the road and Andy.

  He watched in alarm as he saw the little girl struggling against the thorns and branches that snagged at her clothing and skin, lacerating her flesh as she fled in fear. He stumbled forward, raising the hand that still grasped the tyre iron and moaned pleadingly after her as she crashed into the fields beyond, taking off at a sprint into the long grass.

  Andy felt an overwhelming need to follow her, but he could not risk trying to force his way through the hedgerow and causing himself further damage. He bobbed and swayed, peering through the thick tangle of branches as he looked for the small girl on the other side. He could see the grass swaying as she ran through it. He looked beyond the area where she was and up along the rising grassy slope.

  At the top of the hill, a row of trees ran from the road along the high ground, forming into a clump surrounding, and partially obscuring, a structure of some kind on the horizon. Andy, in his less than perfectly functioning brain, was able to deduce that she was heading for the building.

  The little girl was gone from sight now and he felt pressed to find her as quickly as possible. He looked to his right along the road, searching for a gap in the hedge that he could climb through and then make his way into the field that the child had run through. He could not see any openings, and he did not want to search in that direction and have to come into contact with the group that were feeding on the dog again.

  To his left, the road continued and twisted around to the right in a sharp bend. He turned and began to trundle along the lane at a pace that indicated a sense of urgency. As he moved, he kept an eye on the tall bushes to his right, glancing over his shoulder every now and then to check for any sign of the little girl.

  He was also afraid of being followed by the creatures that he had encountered further down the road; he wanted to find an opening soon so that he could evade any wandering eyes.

  Just beyond the bend, there was a wooden fence set into a wide gap in the hedgerow. Andy pushed and pulled against it but it would not budge. After a while of staring at the obstacle, bewildered, he concluded that he would need to scale the fence if he was to gain entry to the fields on the other side.

  With one hand remaining pressed firmly against his abdomen, Andy began to climb.

  At first, he was confused on how to begin his ascent. He could picture in his mind what he needed to do, but he could not get his feet and hands to do what was necessary. In frustration, he growled and hurled the tyre iron over the gate. It landed with a thud, protruding out from the packed mud on the other side.

  Again, he attempted to climb, this time managing to coordinate his hands and feet a little better and gaining some height on the wooden slats of the fence. He became more confident, and soon a sense of joy at his conquest of the obstacle began to surge through him, as he scaled higher and higher and his limbs harmonized into a rhythm that allowed him to clamber up the wooden barrier.

  At the top, he clumsily threw one leg over, catching the top of the fence and almost losing his balance. Straddling the obstacle, he paused and became confused again, unsure of how to make his way down on the other side.

  For a long while, he remained seated astride the gate, unsure of what to do. He looked down to his left at the road and the ground he had come from. He knew that he did not
want to go that way; to his right, the muddied and churned ground presented itself as an obstacle beyond an obstacle. He was aware that he needed to get himself onto the muddy side of the fence, but nothing came into his mind to guide him.

  Eventually, Andy understood that he needed to do the same thing he had done climbing the fence, but in reverse. He clutched his left hand to his wound, holding it tightly, and with his right hand, he steadied himself as he began to lift his left leg in an attempt to bring it on the field side of the fence.

  In his deteriorated condition, and with clumsy movements and lack of coordination, he misplaced his step. His foot skidded from the rung of the fence and his body lurched away from under him. He tried desperately to keep a grip on the gate with his right arm but it was no use; the weight of his body wrenched his fingers away from the top and he plummeted to the ground, landing on his side in the freezing wet mud.

  Andy lay there for a while in the sucking filth that covered him from head to toe. He was afraid to move with the thought that he had caused himself further harm from the fall and hesitated in getting up.

  He remained motionless, his head lying in the mire that surrounded him, staring at the miniature hillocks of muck and puddles just inches from his face.

  He watched as a parade of beetles marched past his eyes, rolling clumps of dung with their hind legs and paying him no attention. For a while, he forgot about his predicament and the possibility of further injuries and lay, fascinated, studying the tiny creatures moving about in the slime around him.

  Finally, he began to shift his weight in the wet dirt, testing the condition of his arms and legs, confirming that they were still attached to his body and functioning as normal.

  Next, he began to drag himself upright into a sitting position, immediately checking the wound in his stomach and ensuring that his innards were still within his body.