by Luke Duffy
“What do we do?” Emma asked. Her voice had begun to break.
“How the fuck should I know?” Jonesy snapped back at her, turning away from the control panel and picking up his light. “Ask Captain Tyler. She’s the one in charge here, not me. I’m just the fucking nerd, remember?”
Emma turned and headed for the captain. Half way across the room, she stopped dead in her tracks.
From beyond the door, and somewhere high above them, they heard the distinct sound of gunfire. Shots, fired in rapid succession, boomed through the darkness, carried along the narrow corridors and down through the tight stairwells.
Other noises soon joined in with the cracks of the guns.
They were the sounds of people dying. Screams from the men and women who had still not been evacuated, rang out in blood curdling cries. The thudding crashes and bangs as doors gave way and defences crumbled, reached the ears of the people in the Operation’s Room, confirming that the bunker had fallen to the infected.
“Shit,” Samantha said quietly, staring up at the dark ceiling, “they’re inside.”
23
Banks of thick grey clouds had drifted in across the night sky, obscuring the moon and preventing its light from penetrating through to the land below. As a result, the small private estate had become a jumble of long dark shadows and blackened buildings, and any detail had become impossible to distinguish.
In the house across the road, Catherine and her baby had long since fallen silent. The infected had finally managed to break in through the door and for a while, her screams had filled the night air. Even then, no one had rushed to help her.
The houses lining either side of the road remained dark and still as their owners hid behind their protective walls and doors, cowering in the shadows and hoping that they would not be detected by the creatures that stalked their way through the outside world.
In the silence, even the slightest noise seemed to echo like the reverberations of ringing church bells. Throughout the nights, crashes and bangs were carried for miles on the wind and the sounds of agony and terror rang out as people were set upon by the dead.
Everyone had heard Catherine’s cries, but they were scared, terrified of stepping outside.
Matthew, standing by the window and peeping through the gap in the blinds, watched the dark figure with curiosity as it made its way along the gloomy street.
It was different from any of the others he had seen. It moved with purpose and coordination, creeping between the parked cars, pausing at each one for a few moments before moving on to the next.
He could not see any details of the figure, only the dark outline, but it was clear that whoever it was, they were alive, and not one of the infected bodies that lurched through the estate, searching for living flesh.
“Emily,” he whispered, not wanting to take his eyes from the street and instead, vigorously waving his hand behind him to get her attention.
The low soft rumble of his wife’s gentle snoring came as her reply.
“Emily,” he hissed, louder and more urgently than before.
He reached out with his foot and kicked at the bed, his toes just about reaching the mattress and able to make it shift beneath her.
“Wake up, Emily.”
With the sudden movement of the springs below her, she woke with a start, forcing her body upright and her eyes darting about the room with shock and dread, trying to identify the threat before it was too late.
“What, what is it?” She asked, searching through the darkness for her husband, her eyes still adjusting to the dimness. “Where are you, Matt? What’s happening?”
Matthew remained quiet for a moment, an invisible smile stretching his lips as he watched the confused and distressed reaction of his wife.
“It’s okay, Emily, I’m here.”
He waved to her from the side of the window, hoping that his hand movements would be easier for her to see against the faint ambient light that managed to penetrate into the room from the outside.
She crawled across the bed and stepped over to join him where he stood hidden by the long thick curtains. Instinctively, she pressed herself close to him, needing to feel his body in close proximity to hers.
She still hated him for hitting her, but under the circumstances, she understood what had driven him to do it. He was afraid, just as she was. Remembering the incident, she subconsciously raised her hand to her face and gently pressed at her swollen cheek.
He had never laid a finger on her before, and with all that was going on, she was able to forgive his reactions, to a degree.
However, she had vowed to herself, if he ever did anything like that again, regardless of the circumstances, she would make good on her promise and drive a knife through his throat while he slept.
“What’s happening?” She whispered.
“Take a look,” Matthew replied in a hushed voice, nodding down into the street. “There’s someone out there. Someone living.”
She looked along the road and saw the shadows of the infected, lurking around a number of houses, trampling across lawns and staggering along the curb-side. At first, she was unable to see what Matthew was looking at, but then she caught a glimpse of movement from the corner of her eye. It was fast and deliberate movement. Motion that was only capable from someone that was uninfected by the virus.
She looked closer and focussed. There, she saw the silhouette of a man, making his way towards them, bounding between the static vehicles, carefully and silently, and passing through the infested estate.
“He’s alive,” she stated.
She was about to turn to her husband, but something else caught her attention. There was more movement, further along the street. A dark shape was following the man’s progress, noiselessly travelling along in the middle of the road.
By now, the living man was just a few houses away, still hopping from vehicle to vehicle and the bulky object gliding along behind him.
“Oh my God,” Emily gasped, “he has a van following him.”
Matthew screwed his face in confusion, wondering if he had heard his wife correctly, or if she had seen something he had missed. Making a separate gap in the blinds, he peered out to see for himself.
Emily had not been mistaken at all.
A van, an old style Volkswagen Camper from what he could tell, was quietly gliding along in the man’s wake. On closer inspection, Matthew realised that there were more men at the rear of the vehicle, pushing it from behind, while one of them remained inside to steer.
“Jesus,” he said, his breath misting against the cold glass as he leaned closer to the window to get a better view. “What are they doing?”
The first man was now directly in front of their house. He stopped at the side of a car and then suddenly stood up and signalled to the others with the van. Slowly, and without making the slightest sound, the Camper pulled up alongside of him and came to a complete stop. Two of them remained in the area between the two vehicles while the others fanned out into a circle, crouching down behind other static cars and intently watching the area.
Matthew strained to see what the two men were doing in the gap between the Camper and the estate car that they had stopped beside of. Then, he realised what was happening.
“They’re siphoning fuel, I think,” he whispered to Emily, watching the scene, totally absorbed in the events taking place outside of their house.
“Holy shit, and they have guns,” he exclaimed, pointing to the nearest of the men and the long slender object he carried in his hands. “They must be soldiers, or police, or something like that, but they’re definitely armed.”
In his excitement, Matthew had caused the blinds to move, attracting the attention of the closest of the men. Remaining in cover, crouched behind the next door neighbour’s people carrier, the man swivelled and brought his rifle around, aiming it at Emily and Matthew as they peered down at him through the window.
Both of them froze to the spot, inhaling a silent gasp a
s they waited for a torrent of gunfire to burst through their bedroom window that would end their lives.
After a couple of seconds without the expected projectiles ploughing through their window and bodies, Matthew peeked through his half-closed eyelids.
The man had already turned his attention elsewhere, having realised that there was no threat and continuing to cover the street.
Matthew, his heart beating loudly in his ears and his knees suddenly feeling weak, pivoted away from the window and pressed himself against the hard cover of the wall. He blew out the long gusting breath that he had been holding and felt his body begin to tremble.
“Fucking hell,” he gasped, “I thought he was going to shoot us.”
Emily had not moved. She remained at the blinds, watching what the men outside were doing and following their progress.
Silently, she cursed her husband for his cowardly and self-preserving reaction.
A muffled shriek erupted from down the stairs and was soon accompanied by loud crashes and bangs that were deafening in the silent night.
Once again, Paula was assaulting the door of her cell beneath the stairs, barging her body at the barrier to get out and screaming that awful pain filled and hateful wail beyond the gag that appeared to be slipping from position around her mouth.
Matthew and Emily looked at one another, their eyes blazing with terror and grief as they listened to their daughter and the horrifying sounds that emitted from her. Never in their lives had they heard such a noise and the fact that it was coming from their precious little girl, was more distressing to them as they pictured Paula causing herself all sorts of harm while she viciously attacked the solid door of the cupboard.
Emily reached up and clasped her hands over her ears, shaking her head and crying, trying to blot out the heartrending pain that the wails of her daughter caused her.
Matthew, realising that the noise could probably be heard in the street, stepped back to the window.
The men below were moving, turning their bodies and pointing their weapons in all directions. At first, he wondered if they could hear Paula and were looking for where the noise was coming from, then he saw the multitude of figures that were closing in from the peripherals, headed towards the epicentre of the sound and inadvertently, closing in on the seven men in the street below.
As the racket of Paula’s assault continued to haunt their souls, tearing at their hearts and their minds, Matthew looked on as the circle of death slowly tightened around the soldiers. The closest of them looked up at the window again, feeling no need to raise his rifle this time. He turned around, and Matthew believed that he was saying something to the others. A few more heads swivelled and glanced in his direction.
By now, Matthew could no longer hear his daughter. He had managed to blot her from his thoughts as he became more concerned with what the heavily armed men, just metres from their front door, were intending to do next.
Two of them stood up from their positions behind the cars and stepped out on to the pavement. Together, moving with stealth, they headed for the house and within seconds, Matthew could no longer see them due to the downward angle.
“Shit,” he whimpered, “they’re at the door.”
Emily still had her hands covering her ears, shaking and sobbing uncontrollably. He grabbed her and shook her vigorously, attempting to snap her attention back to reality and focus on the present situation.
She looked up at him, her eyes glowing red with anguish and glistening with tears. Her face was pale in the low light that shone through the window, and even in the semi-darkness, Matthew could see her lips quivering uncontrollably.
“Emily,” he began sternly, “darling, you must keep it together. Those men outside, they’re on their way here. They have guns, Emily, and I don’t think we will be able to stop them from coming in.”
A sound at the entrance to their bedroom made them both spin around with fright. William was clearly shaken by the stifled wails of his sister and they could hear him whimpering, even above the screams and thumps from below the stairs.
Matthew turned back to look into the street.
The ring of infected were closer, zeroing in on the noise coming from Paula, but they did not seem to have noticed the men, as yet. The rest of the soldiers were also moving, headed to join the other two at the porch.
One of them, he noticed, looked hurt and was being half carried by one of the others, his arm wrapped around the neck of his teammate for support as he hobbled and staggered towards the house.
“Open the door,” a calm and toneless voice suddenly called out through the darkened hallway, drifting along up the stairs and into the bedroom where Matthew and his family stood shaking with fear.
Matthew felt his blood freeze in his veins and stared down at his wife and son, unable to form his thoughts or even respond to the man’s words.
Again, the voice called up to them.
“We know you’re in there. Now open the door.”
Still, the man sounded calm, despite the multitude of flesh eating ghouls that were converging on his location.
“Listen, mate, we know that you’re in there, so you have two choices; either come down and let us in, or we kick our way in.”
The man paused for a moment, then with unmistakable malice in his tone, called out to the occupants again.
“Now, open the fucking door.”
“We’ve no choice. We have to let them in,” Matthew said to his wife as he stepped out onto the landing and leaned over the bannister, staring down at the shadows that moved beyond the frosted glass panels.
“But,” she began to protest, stammering her words, “but, they might shoot us.”
Matthew shook his head as he began to descend the stairs.
“If they were going to shoot us, I think they would’ve already done it. But if we don’t let them in, then there’s a chance they will shoot us.”
He reached the entrance to their home and paused for a moment, steeling a deep breath as he stretched his arm up for the first lock at the top. Paula continued to hammer away from inside the cupboard behind him, screaming so loudly that his ears buzzed and pressed inwards against the sides of his head.
It was clear now that the material they had secured over her mouth, had completely slipped from its position.
He could see the movement of the men outside and hear their anxious whispers as they identified the closing threats to one another. From what Matthew could tell, they were getting ready to force their way into the house.
“Wait,” he called out through the glass, “wait, I’ll let you in.”
With shaking hands, he set to work on releasing the locks and dead bolts that held the door firmly in place against the frame. Finally, there was just the handle left. He twisted it and as the lock slipped from its housing, the barrier suddenly sprang open, crashing against his left temple and sending a blinding flash across his vision. He stumbled backwards; distantly aware of the bulky shapes beginning to pour into the hallway.
With a thud, the entrance was sealed.
As his senses drifted back to him, Matthew found himself looking back up the stairs at his wife and son as they remained on the landing, fearfully watching the new arrivals as their large dark frames filled the area at the bottom of the stairs.
Matthew turned around and saw nothing but blackness. For a split second, his mind spun with confusion but quickly realised that he was staring at the massive back and shoulders of a man that must have weighed twice as much as he did.
With nowhere else to go, he had no choice but to step back up onto the bottom rung of the stairs. From there, he was able to see the men that had entered into his home. At the moment, they paid him no attention as they stood in a tight circle, deep in a hushed discussion.
Paula’s screams suddenly abated and the clatter of the door faded to a half-hearted thump. The men fell silent and looked in the direction of the space beneath the staircase.
Still, they remained obliv
ious to Matthew.
Finally, feeling the urge to gain their attention, he let out a low grumbling cough. The seven heads, blackened by shadow, turned to look up at him. For a long moment, they just stared at him, not moving and saying nothing. Then, they turned away and continued their whispered group conference.
Behind them, dark shapes began to flutter across the glass of the door and soon, the first of the fists clashed against the heavy frame. The door shook, and Matthew suddenly felt panicked, realising that he had not locked it tight after the men had piled in over the threshold.
“It’s alright,” said the same calm voice that had called up to them from the letterbox. “We locked it while you were busy dancing about the hallway. It’ll take them a while before they can get in. The porch is too narrow for them to combine their weight and at a bad angle to the driveway for them to get any leverage.”
“Yeah,” another hushed voice agreed mockingly. “Thank fuck you’re a keen gardener and planted those bushes so close to your door.”
“Aye,” another of the men concurred, “they bloom lovely during the summer, Bobby.”
Together, the seven men moved away from the hall and headed to the rear of the house and into the kitchen. Matthew followed and Emily and William gingerly crept down the stairs, hesitating at the bottom as they watched the ghostly shadows that beat at the entrance to their home. They moaned incessantly, but gone was the vigour in their efforts and the aggression in their voices. Since Paula had ceased her assault, there was no more noise to stimulate their excitement.
In the kitchen, Matthew watched the men as they set about searching through the cupboards, scouring with their pinpointed LED lights and rummaging through the family’s food stocks. He did not protest, afraid of provoking them, but he felt that he needed to say something, anything, to get them to acknowledge his existence.
He felt someone move behind him and turned to see his wife and son standing in the doorway, glaring back at him with uncertainty. He could see their fear filled eyes shining in the gloom. They stared at him, turning to him to protect them from the band of armed and frightening men that had invaded their home.