by Luke Duffy
He had seen many like him, walking with their intestines dragging along the floor in a long trail behind them. He recoiled at the thought of the same thing happening to him.
Slowly, and with great difficulty in the slippery mud, Andy climbed to his feet on unsteady legs. He paused and checked his surroundings to confirm that he was still alone, and had not attracted the attention of any of the wandering figures littering the landscape.
The air was silent and he detected no movement from close by. Even the birds and the tiny creatures that had been scurrying around in the dirt seemed to have dispersed and gone into hiding.
He turned, picked up his tyre iron and headed into the long unkempt grass of the fields, headed in the direction that the little girl had run. Although a part of his mind conveyed to him that he must move urgently, another part of his brain forced him to negotiate the ground cautiously.
Below his feet, the tangles of grass and weeds threatened to snare or trip him with every step, and the undulating troughs and mounds continually attempted to snap his bones and leave him stranded, to rot in the open field.
For what seemed an eternity, he carefully crossed the ground and steadily climbed the gentle slope of the hill. Finally, he was free of the long grass and staggered out onto a gravelled courtyard that surrounded a large farmhouse.
He stopped and studied the building. The house was old and strong looking with walls that appeared thick and impenetrable, covered in a carpet of creeping vines that ran up its brickwork and towards the roof. Its bright red door, thick and wide, looked as though it could withstand any number of creatures attacking it and never come close to breeching the solid wooden barrier. On either side of the main door, large bay windows were set high from the ground, out of reach of prying eyes and reaching hands.
Looking to the left and right of the house, Andy could see that a path ran around the outside, but it was difficult to see what lay beyond due to the tall and tightly spaced trees that surrounded the sides and rear of the building, casting it in shadow.
He turned to look in the direction he had travelled, down the slope and towards the road. Nothing moved in the long grass and there was no sign of anything moving by the fence or along the country lane in the distance.
To the right, a gravelled track that joined onto the courtyard ran away into the rows of trees leading down towards the narrow country lane. He had travelled along the road in that direction and had not noticed any turn off for a track that led up to the house.
He reasoned that he was under no threat from that direction and the little girl, if she were in the house, would be safe, for now.
He studied the windows, trying hard to view the interior of the house and see if there was any movement from within. He could see nothing. The windows afforded him no insight to the house or its occupants and reflected just a shiny blackness created by the light on the outside.
For some inexplicable reason, Andy felt obligated, duty bound, to ensure that the little creature that had run away from him at the roadside was okay and would remain so. He was aware that it was a child, and not a child that was in the same state as him. This child was one of the fast moving and beautiful sort, the kind with the vibrant flesh that made such wonderful sounds and moved with a grace that he envied so much.
He remembered what a child was and how delicate and vulnerable they were. For a moment, he reflected on his travels and the visions of the little girl, trapped in the car, that stared back at him with such beautiful but lifeless eyes. He felt a surge of sorrow flow through his body, as he recalled the memory of him putting an end to the misery that she so desperately wanted to be free from, causing a remorseful groan to rise in his throat.
He swayed for a moment, unsure of what to do as the dreadful memory faded in his mind. He took a step forward, his feet crunching the gravel on the ground and making him pause in fear of being detected.
Looking up, he eyed the windows but saw nothing, and then began to move forward again, placing each step as lightly as he could.
Soon, he was close to the front door of the house. He hesitated at the bottom of the steps and stared up at the large red wooden obstacle that blocked his path. He made a move as though to begin following the track that ran around the house, but then stopped. He stared back at the door, and then began to climb the steps. Grasping the large round handle in his hands, he attempted to turn the lock.
It moved slightly.
Andy placed his tyre iron on the ground at his feet and then gripped the handle with both hands, forcing it with all the strength he could muster. The lock clicked and the door opened a few centimetres, and then stopped.
At first, he felt afraid to push it any further, but then he remembered the reasons why he had come to the house. He needed to see the little girl, to be close to her, for a reason that he could not understand, but it was something that drove him forward in a way that no other force could.
With the tips of his bony fingers, he nudged the door open a little more. It creaked as it moved, making Andy glance back over his shoulder in fear that something had heard the sound and followed him. With nothing presenting itself to his rear, he stepped into the semi darkness of the hallway to the house.
The light pouring in from outside illuminated the interior only slightly, and Andy could see almost nothing beyond the first two steps of the entrance. He could see a set of stairs to his right, its white banister glowing in the gloom, and to his front, along a long dark corridor, he could see the frame of a doorway, lit up from the room beyond.
He moved further in, carefully closing the door behind him, not wanting to leave it open to any of the others that may be in the area, that may have followed him without his knowledge.
The house was silent. Nothing stirred in the eerie darkness. Andy began to feel deflated at the possibility that the child had gone elsewhere.
He let out a sigh and began to stagger forward, slowly making his way along the narrow corridor towards the light at the far end. Halfway along, a clunk resounded from the room ahead of him. Andy paused and attempted to focus his hearing on the sound, but the house remained deathly quiet and the noise did not repeat itself.
At the doorway, he stopped, fear of the unknown and what could be waiting for him beyond the frame of the door tugging at his instincts. He could see into the room and realised that it was a kitchen with a large table in the centre, piled high with cans of food.
Directly facing him, there was a long counter that ran along the far wall, stopping at another door that led out from the house and to the rear of the building. Andy glanced down and saw a small yellow bowl at the foot of the door. It was filled to the brim and overflowing with a brown substance that he did not recognise.
He grunted as he looked to the right and deeper into the kitchen. Pots and pans were stacked high along the counter; discarded tins and bottles littered the floor. In front of the cooker, situated on the far wall to the right, a lone chair stood close to the hob. A pan, steaming and with blue flames rising beneath it, sat on top of the cooker. The mixture inside the pot bubbled and spat itself onto the worktop.
Andy instinctively realised what the vision meant. Someone else was in the house.
He lurched into the room and turned in all directions, looking for any sign of the little girl, but she was nowhere to be seen.
Walking towards the cooker, his foot collided with a glass bottle in the middle of his path, sending it skidding and clattering along the brown tiles of the kitchen floor. The sound echoed around the room for a long time, sounding like a crescendo in Andy's ears, before it finally subsided.
Another noise could suddenly be heard, as though the sound of his clumsiness with the glass bottle had triggered it. The sound was the same that he had first heard at the roadside when he saw the child, cowering and whimpering in the hedgerow, but he could not see her anywhere in the room.
At the far end of the kitchen, to the right of the large old cooker, Andy saw a curtain that covered what appeared to be another
doorway. He moved towards it, his feet scraping along the tiles.
The sound of weeping continued.
Andy's withered hand reached out in front of him and he gripped the cloth of the curtain, causing it to ripple and flutter.
The snivels and whimpers erupted into sobs of fear and helplessness as Andy tore back the curtain.
Shelves, stacked with boxes and cans, presented themselves to him as he peered into the small pantry, but there was no sign of the source of the noise. He looked down and, in the corner, saw a blanket that obscured a bulky form beneath it.
The blanket quivered and the crying continued from underneath.
He reached down and folded his fingers around the material. He pulled hard, wrenching the blanket away to reveal the little girl that he had seen earlier, coiled in the corner, sobbing and shaking uncontrollably.
In her hand, she clutched a large knife close to her chest, but she made no sign of any attempt to use it, as she remained curled into a ball with her eyes screwed tightly shut.
Andy peered down at her. Her tiny form and glowing skin, with the long strands of golden hair cascading over her shoulders, roused a hunger within him that overrode and blocked all other thoughts and emotions.
His mouth fell open and he bent slightly at the waist, moaning loudly with anticipation as he glared at the small child with envious and ravenous eyes.
An instinct tore at his every sense and filled his misfiring mind with visions of the warm soft skin of the child, and the euphoria that it would give him as he ripped the flesh from her bones.
He remembered the euphoria and excitement he had felt the last time he had tasted the living:
The warmth of the blood as it splashed over his face and into his mouth as he chewed and swallowed the flesh that he tore from the man in large chunks. It filled him with an overwhelming sense of exhilaration and revitalized him to the point where he felt restored to his former self.
He leaned in close, his clutching fingers reaching for the soft skin of the child's shoulders as he opened his mouth wide in anticipation of what he was about to experience again. His black fetid tongue slipped over his yellowed and broken teeth, appearing as a monstrous slug while toxic drool hung from his lips and a yearning groan rasped from his throat.
The little girl cringed and whimpered loudly.
Andy stopped, confusion clouding his mind, causing him to hesitate, blocking his desire for the flesh that crouched just before him. He suddenly remembered the revulsion and regret that he had felt in the aftermath of the last time he had torn into living flesh. Memories of the screams of terror and agony resonated in his ears and echoed through his mind, completely blocking out the sobs of the girl in front of him.
Visions of the consequences, of scattered body parts and large pools of blood, presented themselves before his eyes and the disdain he felt for the others that feasted and picked at the shreds of meat, still clinging to the bones, came racing back to him, causing him to take a step backwards in horror.
A grunt of disdain emitted from his throat, resolute in his realisation that his initial instincts were wrong and grotesque.
The child fell silent, as the terror and pain that she had expected never arrived. Gingerly, she turned her face upwards and peered at the figure in front of her, through squinted eyes filled with tears.
Andy watched her for a moment, a torrent of different emotions rising from within. They were sympathy and affection, and a yearning to protect and help the small and vulnerable creature that cowered in terror from him.
He reached out with his right hand, as though to offer her assistance in standing up, but the girl remained in the corner of the cupboard, confused and still clearly frightened, staring back at the discoloured and crooked fingers of the monstrous hand reaching out to her.
She recoiled from him, pushing herself further into the corner as she stared at his withered and rotted hand.
Andy sighed and his shoulders drooped, appearing almost like a shrug of resignation. He stepped back, his feet scraping on the tiles and his eyes remaining locked on the fragile figure in front of him.
He grunted again, and shuffled out from the kitchen.
16
"Just keep going, Stu," Jim snarled from the passenger seat, "just get us the fuck out of here, man."
Jim's head swivelled in all directions as Stu gunned the engine and raced along the street. The dead were closing in from every direction, pouring from buildings and side streets as they were attracted by the sounds of gunfire, and now the noise of the police car as the engine roared and the wheels screeched.
A mottled grey mass of lumbering shadowy figures appeared in all directions and the wails of the crowds erupted into a crescendo as they saw the living men attempting to escape from their trap. Some stumbled forward with clumsy steps, while others swayed from side to side, but they all advanced, united in their lust for the living flesh attempting to flee from them.
"Fuck me," Kieran exclaimed from the rear seat.
He was jostled from one side to the next and collided with Hussein as Stu threw the vehicle from left to right, trying hard to swerve around the dozens of corpses stepping into the path of the vehicle.
"Where the fuck are they all coming from? They're everywhere."
Heavy thuds and clunks resounded dully within the car, as bodies that Stu was unable to avoid impacted against it. They bounced across the front; crashing against the windshield and were tossed to the side as the heavy police vehicle smashed through them. Limbs were ripped from their sockets and bodies were crushed beneath the churning wheels, leaving trails and puddles of fetid sludge in the wake of the vehicle, as the entrails of the walking corpses exploded from their bodies.
The vehicle rocked and lurched as the suspension was buffeted from the numerous dead that fell beneath its wheels. The tyres spun and gripped alternately as they crushed the bodies underneath and lost grip on the tarmac. The road was fast becoming packed with the bodies of the walking dead, and it soon became impossible for Stu to see a way through and out to safety.
A dark repulsive figure, completely naked, its left arm missing from the elbow down, oblivious to the damage that would result in a head-on collision, threw itself into the path of the vehicle as Stu floored the accelerator pedal. The snarling creature stood its ground like a goalkeeper ready to save a penalty kick as the vehicle closed in on it. It waited with its one remaining arm outstretched and its mouth open wide, ready to receive the large steel and glass meal that raced towards it.
Its legs were smashed from underneath it, shattering at the knee as the bumper hit at full force and speed. The body was catapulted forward with such velocity that it exploded on impact with the hood of the car; its bloody entrails carpeting the front of the vehicle like a macabre hunting trophy.
The head; still attached to the spinal column, penetrated the windshield and became lodged in the glass with its face just centimetres away from Jim who recoiled in the passenger seat. For a moment, they stared at one another in complete surprise.
"Jesus fucking Christ," Jim howled as he raised his pistol.
He shoved the barrel into the gaunt face, smashing the muzzle through its teeth and into its festering mouth as it glared back at him, dumbstruck.
Jim winced and pulled the trigger.
The report of the weapon in the confined space of the police car sounded like the crack of thunder, almost blowing the eardrums of all inside, as the nine-millimetre round smashed a hole through the skull of the ghoul trapped in the glass.
Blood and bone splintered out from the exit wound and one of its eyes popped from its socket, as the vacuum travelling behind the bullet, faster than the speed of sound, ripped through the weakened flesh and shattered the bones of its face.
Stu lost control of the vehicle as the crack of the pistol exploded so close the side of his face. His ears threatened to implode. He felt as though someone had just slapped him on either side of his head, simultaneously.
His ears popped and whistled as his vision blurred and danced before him. The car swayed to the left as he lost his grip on the wheel and was unable to regain control in time. Travelling at speed, and out of control, the police vehicle ploughed through a dense throng of bodies and collided with an abandoned vehicle close to the edge of the road.
A loud crunch followed by an echoing bang reverberated around the city, bouncing from the concrete walls of the buildings as the two vehicles became infused with one another. The bumper of the police car caved in on itself and the steel hood crumpled like a sheet of foil being twisted into a ball. The doors to the passenger and driver's seats buckled and screamed in their frames, causing the glass to crack and splinter as the force of the impact rippled through the vehicle and the men inside.
They came to an abrupt stop, the four of them being thrown forward in their seats and crashing into whatever was in front of them.
For the two in the front it was the dashboard, and Stu felt his nose shatter as his face smashed against the steering wheel. Instantly, his eyes filled with water and blood gushed from his broken nose as he slumped back in his seat, the world around him spinning as his brain was jolted and kicked around inside his skull.
Jim heard the bones in his forearm crack as he raised his hands in front of his face to protect himself while he was hurled forward from his seat and into the windshield. His head crunched against the glass, just centimetres from the wrecked face of the corpse that had crashed through the front windshield.
The inertia dislodged the shattered head of the corpse and hurtled it through the air like a football, sending it bouncing across the roof of the car that Stu had crashed into when he lost control of the vehicle.
Jim rebounded and fell into the footwell of the passenger seat, crumpled in a heap and unconscious, with blood pouring from a gash in his scalp.
Hussein and Kieran were forced forward into the driver and passenger seats, their heads banging together and knocking them senseless as they were flung back against the rear seat in a tangle of arms and legs.