by Luke Duffy
Even over the deafening myriad of noise, she heard the bones snap.
She howled with agony and tumbled backwards, bouncing down the stairs as her arms and legs flailed through the air. She hit the tiled floor of the foyer with a sickening slap, her face smashing into the cold slate beneath her and sending her eyes rolling to the back of her head.
Blackness enveloped her.
Lee and Sophie burst through the door leading onto the roof and out into the midst of the chaos that seemed to reign supreme on top of the old house.
A large group of people stood huddled together in the centre. Mothers clutched their sodden children close to them as they shivered from the cold rain and trembled with fear. Marcus and Stu were to the right, pouring machinegun and rifle fire into the mass of corpses assaulting the house from the woods.
Jim, Steve, Hussein, Helen, and Jake, were firing over in to the open plains of the park, trying desperately to stem the tide of rotting flesh and give Kelly the time that she needed to get the aircraft off the ground.
"Lee," a voice yelled, and as he turned, a rifle was thrust into his hands from Kieran.
"We're out of time," Steve was screaming as he watched the helicopter struggling to take off. "We're out of time, they won't make it."
A number of corpses had already converged on the aircraft, surrounding it and pounding against its windows and sides, as the fuselage swayed and bounced under the thundering rotor blades, struggling to get airborne.
Hussein stared in horror as he saw more of the flesh-craving monsters arrive and surround the helicopter.
They would never be able to take off now.
"We're fucked, Marcus," Jim called across the roof as he began changing magazines. "The chopper won't make it. They're swamped with those things."
Marcus turned, quickly eyeing the ground around the house and seeing for himself that they had run out of time. The dead overwhelmed the helicopter; he knew that they would not be able to take off.
Reluctantly, he had to forget about Kelly and Joey, leaving them to their fate as they remained trapped inside the aircraft. Nothing could be done to help the aircrew; they were surrounded by too many of the dead for Marcus and his men to attempt a rescue. Kelly and Joey had their pistols, and Marcus knew that they would save the last rounds for themselves when the time came.
"Get off the roof," he hollered back at Jim. "Get everyone down, over the back and onto the ground from the kitchen roof."
Jim and Hussein began herding everyone to the far side of the rooftop. Children clung to their mothers for dear life as they shuffled to the edge, crying and whimpering helplessly as their bulging terror-filled eyes witnessed the pandemonium around them.
"I'll go first, Hussein," Jim shouted as he began climbing over the lip, ignoring the pain in his fractured arm. He was ready to drop down onto the lower roof of the kitchen just a couple of metres below.
"Once I'm down, start lowering the kids and…"
The deafening roar of the helicopter engine drowned out his words as it suddenly forced itself into the air above the house. The bulky fuselage of the Puma rose into view over the lip of the roof like a thundering titan, coming to the rescue of the survivors. Its engine howled with the strain and its rotors hammered at the air.
Marcus turned to see the aircraft as it soared into view and settled into a hover over the eastern edge of the house. Kelly began carefully manoeuvring it into a position where she could begin taking on passengers.
Its downwash was powerful enough to knock some of the people flat, and the heat from its exhausts and the spinning blades evaporated the torrential rain before the thick, heavy drops had a chance to land on the roof.
"Get them onto the heli," Marcus roared as he ran towards Jim and Hussein. "Get them in there, now. We can't hold for long."
Jim began dragging people towards the aircraft as Kelly brought the machine in lower, avoiding touching the roof with the heavy wheels for fear of causing a collapse. She fought hard with the controls as Joey called out the height and direction.
"Two metres," he said calmly over the intercom, staring down at the roof of the house and the windswept and frightened faces of the people rushing towards them.
"Come left, Kel, left. There, hold it there."
The port side door to the passenger compartment suddenly flew open and Kelly looked back over her shoulder to see Jim, hurling people inside and screaming encouragement to them, as he reached back for more.
Kelly checked her altitude and level as she toiled with the throttle and collective, trying to keep the cumbersome machine in the same place as the survivors were loaded. Through the muffled headset that she wore, she could hear the crack of the rifles and the growl of the machinegun, as the defenders continued to buy the remainder the precious time they needed to reach safety.
Marcus looked back, watching as Jennifer and his two sons were bundled into the aircraft, feeling a sense of hope that at least his family would make it. His eyes locked with his wife's and for a fleeting moment, they spoke a thousand words to one another without making a sound.
He smiled at her and nodded, before turning back to help Stu suppress the horde of putrefying flesh descending upon them.
Carl was the last to board the aircraft; unconscious after Jim had had to strike him hard across his jaw with the butt of his rifle. Carl had wanted to stay and help, but he had no weapons, and Marcus had already ordered that he should go with the helicopter group.
Sophie and Claire helped to drag him into the passenger compartment and tucked him into a corner.
Jim turned to Hussein.
"Okay, buddy, on you go," he hollered.
Hussein began to protest but Jim shook his head.
"Your knee is fucked, so you need to go with the others." Jim glared down at him and took the rifle from Hussein's hands.
"Give me your ammo, but keep hold of your pistol."
Hussein complied and handed over his magazines to Jim, an expression of dejection and guilt covering his face.
Jim slapped him on his shoulder and grinned.
"Don't worry, you'll get plenty more chances to kill bad-guys. Look after this lot." He indicated the people sitting in the passenger compartment of the helicopter. "They'll need you."
Hussein climbed in and Jim gave the thumbs up to Joey, who nodded back and shouted something unintelligible through the window on his side of the cockpit. Jim presumed that the co-pilot was wishing them luck and nodded in reply, before turning and heading towards Marcus.
The bulky Puma helicopter groaned and the engine squealed as Kelly adjusted the throttle and began to lift up into the air. Within seconds, they were high above the house where they hovered for a moment, then headed out into the dark sky, towards the north.
The noise on the rooftop seemed to settle slightly as the aircraft moved further away, despite the sound of gunshots and machinegun fire. The rain returned, without the rotors and exhausts to brush it aside, and the air stilled, leaving just the percussion of the weapons and the wails of the dead lingering around the house.
Marcus watched the aircraft fly away into the distance until it was gone from sight. He turned and looked around at the remainder of the survivors. There were eight of them still on the roof.
"Did we get everyone out?" he called as he leaned in close to Jim's ear.
"Yeah, I think so, apart from Gary, and I think Karen is with him."
"Cease fire, cease fire," Marcus shouted.
One by one, the weapons fell silent with smoke drifting up from their hot barrels, an eerie silence falling over them. Everybody turned to Marcus, waiting anxiously as the sound of the thousands of dead voices drifted up to the people on the roof without the sounds of exploding rifles to blot them out anymore.
Marcus felt a sudden calm.
Knowing that his wife and children were safe in the helicopter, out of harm's way, he could now think clearly despite the knowledge that they were about to be overwhelmed by the hordes of dea
d clambering at the failing doors and windows below them.
"Jim, give me an ammo count, and standby to bug-out." He eyed the others that stood close by. "Make sure you all have fresh magazines on your weapons and don't leave anything behind."
He turned and moved to the north side of the house, staring down onto the flat kitchen roof. He could see that there were a number of dark figures in the area, but there were much fewer there than at the front of the building. They would need to climb down and run for the north, fighting off any of the dead that had strayed into the area.
The thumps and bangs continued below, accompanied by the sound of the main entrance crashing inwards and the howls and screeches of the dead, as they began to pour into the old mansion.
As Marcus positioned himself to begin the descent from the roof, Jim came across to him with a grave look on his face.
"We have roughly twenty-two mags and about eleven hundred link' left for the gun, boss."
Marcus nodded in reply, estimating that they all had somewhere in the region of three magazines each for their rifles.
"Not fucking much is it?" he grumbled.
Marcus led the way, climbing down over the lip of the roof, holding on until his legs were still, then dropping down onto the kitchen, bending his knees and allowing his body to absorb the shock, creating as little noise as possible.
Stu was next.
As he threw his leg over the edge, the sound of a car horn blasting was carried to them on the night air over the crescendo that the dead made, as they continued to pile into the house.
Marcus looked to the east and saw the bouncing headlights of a car as it raced across the undulating ground of the plains, towards the house. The horn continued to blare while the lights repeatedly dipped to the ground then shot up into the sky, as the vehicle hit another rut, sending it bouncing through the long grass.
"Shit, it's Gary," Steve gasped.
Everyone headed to the east side of the roof, watching in horror as the zebra striped Land Rover came closer.
The multitude of dark and moaning figures below slowly turned and began to stagger towards the approaching vehicle, their voices rising with excitement as a new distraction entered their ravenous minds.
They knew that the roaring engine and howling horn meant living flesh, and they lurched with all the speed they could muster towards it.
Stu flicked down the bipod legs of the machinegun and rested them on the edge of the roof with the butt pulled firmly into his shoulder. Adjusting his aim, he released a string of glowing rounds into the path of the Land Rover, dropping numerous bodies in a single burst.
He continued to fire, aiming his shots so that he was clearing the way for Gary.
The rest of the survivors began to shout to him, waving to the vehicle, trying to gain his attention and direct him to the rear of the house. The vehicle did not slow and it seemed that Gary could not hear their cries from the rooftop. Instead, it ploughed through the mass of corpses, aiming for the main doors at the front of the house.
"What the fuck is he doing?" Jim cursed.
Stu desperately tried to thin out the numbers surging towards the vehicle, but it was impossible; there were thousands of them, in a sea of black that swelled and rushed towards Gary and Karen.
The Land Rover rocked and bounced as more and more bodies fell beneath its wheels and crashed against its bumper. Soon, the vehicle had slowed to a painful crawl because of the weight of the crowd pressing against it. Within seconds, Stu and the others could see nothing but the dull white roof and hood as it swayed from side to side, swallowed up by the swarming throng of rotting flesh.
The engine raced, but the wheels refused to propel the old Land Rover forward, leaving it sitting like a precarious life raft in a bubbling sea of death.
Even from the roof and over the moans and cries of excitement and lust from the dead, Stu and the others could hear the panic-filled screams of Karen, as the windows began to splinter and the doors buckled inwards against their frames.
Stu looked back over his shoulder at the silent and horrified faces of the others staring out at the stranded Land Rover containing Gary and Karen, as it bobbed in the frothing sea of dead. They were just fifty metres away, but between the vehicle and the safety of the roof, a thousand flesh-hungry corpses packed the area.
"There's nothing we can do for them," Steve whispered remorsefully.
He felt a hard lump form in his throat as he watched on, helpless to do anything for his friends.
"We can't help them."
Stu looked back at him and nodded solemnly, his eyes falling to the ground at his feet with the shame of their inability to do something to aid the two stranded and powerless people in the Land Rover, but there was one last thing he could do for them.
He brought the machinegun back up to his shoulder, clutching it tightly and adjusting his aim. The spike of the foresight rested on the area where he knew the driver's seat of the vehicle would be. Any sign of Karen or Gary was obscured by the mass of heads swamping the Land Rover, but Stu knew they would not be able to withstand the seven point six two millimetre rounds that he could spit from his powerful machinegun.
He closed his left eye, aiming carefully and taking a deep breath. He released it and then paused, settling the weapon and his sight picture.
'I'm sorry, Gary,' he whispered.
His finger squeezed the trigger, feeling it move under the pressure, and suddenly the heavy weapon juddered in his grip. A burst of bright red lines, like laser beams, flowed out from the end of the barrel and soared through the air towards the stranded vehicle and their friends. The rounds smashed through the heads and bodies of the dark figures that were in their path, shattering bone and splattering the side of the Land Rover with blood and gore. The heavy metal slugs continued through the organic material and punched through the thin metal and glass of the vehicle's front compartment.
He squeezed the trigger again, sending out more glowing death towards their own people, tearing large holes in the sides of the Land Rover. He continued to hammer away at the vehicle, sending flesh, glass and metal splintering into the night air, as he took careful aim at the area that he knew Gary and Karen would be.
Soon, the vehicle began to smoke as the tracer sounds burned through the flesh and material inside the driver's compartment. With one final burst that twisted the frame and caused the roof to cave inwards, Stu ceased fire, eyeing the scene with a heavy heart but telling himself that he had done the only thing that he could to end the suffering of Gary and Karen.
"Come on," he said with a subdued and heavy voice.
He stood up, turning away from the smouldering wreck and placed the cumbersome GPMG over his shoulder. He looked up at the horrified faces of Steve and Helen and felt his stomach churn. He had liked Gary and Karen very much, and although he knew that he had done the only thing left to them, he could not help but feel a deep hatred towards himself.
"Let's get out of here," he huffed as he walked towards the north side of the roof.
One by one, they climbed from the lip of the house and onto the flat space above the kitchen, where Marcus waited for them in the darkness.
"Is it done?" Marcus asked in a whisper as he stepped forward.
Steve nodded.
"Yeah, Stu took care of it, it's done."
Marcus knew instinctively what he meant and glanced at Stu, who avoided his gaze. Marcus also understood that Stu had had no choice, and he sympathised with the anguish and guilt that his friend would be battling against inside him.
Without wasting any more time, they began to scale down to the rear of the house. The small number of lurching figures that had arrived in the area were quickly dealt with as Lee, Jim and Kieran were the first to reach the ground. They set about clearing the area for the others and left a number of corpses, prostrate on the ground and with gaping wounds in their skulls from the blunt objects that had been used to smash them open.
Marcus was the last to descend
, and once on the ground he conducted a quick head count. The house behind them echoed with the crashes and bangs of furniture being overturned and glass being smashed, as the dead rampaged through the rooms, searching for the living as more and more of them piled in through the gaping entrance to the foyer.
Marcus stood, glanced to his left and right, peering into the gloom of the night. He began to lead them off to the north, towards the cliffs, past the animal pens. Beyond that, they would cross the fields then reach the vehicles and head for the open road, and the rendezvous with the others.
The north of the interior of the park was free of the dead; they had all congregated around the house after making their way up from the main gate after its collapse. As they put distance between them and the house, an unsettling silence enveloped the survivors, making them nervous as they crossed the rain-soaked ground.
Marcus and his group were patrolling now, their pace steady and deliberate as they slowed to avoid running into trouble without being able to react. The blackness around them was complete, and the distance hum of the dead seemed a million miles away as they began to pass through the area of the enclosures.
Marcus suddenly stopped in his tracks, throwing his hand up to signal the others behind him to follow suit.
"What the fuck is that?" Jake hissed from the rear as he watched a large, lumbering shape pass by in front of them.
Everybody froze, staring into the darkness, ready to begin the fight all over again.
The shape continued to move, crossing their path from right to left as it lumbered towards the trees. A loud snort followed by a deep grumble came from the dark towering figure. It paused in the wet soaking grass, stamped its heavy foot and then let out a long, lingering grunt.
Marcus realised what he was seeing as the animal passed and he caught sight of its full silhouette.
"Elephant," he whispered over his shoulder, not wanting to draw the animal's attention and then have it charge down on them.
Soon, more dark shadows appeared in front of them as the herd headed into the trees towards the west of the park and away from the house.