As he enters the silent and eerie hall, his weapon cuts from side to side, looking for anything that poses a possible threat.
The noise from the room I just barely escaped from with my life still bustles with those things continually beating at the door. It might be my OCD or just a case of the “better safe than sorries” that pulls me back over that way.
I check and double check the locks that hold the wave of dead flesh back, feeling their angry and unadulterated rage seep through the microscopic slivers within the door’s body. For some reason, which I am unclear of like everything else, I seemed entranced by the hypnotic rhythm of the moans and relentless pounding. Leaning my head against the door, I close my eyes.
“Hey, you coming?” Alice asks, placing her warm, gentle hand on my left shoulder.
“Yeah, just making sure the door is holding up is all.”
She gives me that same smile my Becky would give me when she knew something was wrong and I wasn’t up for telling her what it was just yet. It brings a brief and sudden jolt of joy that floods my body. Memories rush back like a tidal wave of emotions. I have always been a good bs’er and manage to mask most things from certain individuals, but this is different, more apparent. Hiding whatever it is that is playing around inside me is becoming more difficult. Sooner or later, the cat is going to be out of the bag.
8
Leaving the dead clawing at the door, I ready my gun and take point, Alice following close behind. For some reason, it doesn’t seem to matter where I am in this complex or whatever the hell it is, the musty smell clings to my nose for dear life and won’t let go. The sad thing is that I am starting to get used to it.
My vision is still shot to hell and my stomach churns and growls, cramping like I ate something bad. My headache remains and amplifies ten times over, sending points of intense pressure behind my challenged eyes.
Cresting the doorway that leads out into the darkened corridor, I can feel Alice push up on my back even more, her anxiety escalating as I carefully step out.
My weapon trains from side to side and everything is calm and quiet. I turn to the right and spot the others up ahead, waiting behind some crates. I can overhear Deacon and Pete exchange words, most of which are combatant at best.
“Stay close and don’t leave my side for anything, all right?” I say to Alice as we make our way up to the others.
“What the hell were you doing back there, daydreaming?” Pete asks in a low, angered tone. “You’ve got us waiting out here in the open like sitting ducks.”
“You good?” Deacon asks with probing eyes.
“Yeah, I’m good . . . I was just checking to make sure the door was still holding up is all,” I reply while still trying to act like I feel great. “Remember, be quiet and move swiftly. We’re looking for door D7 Video Surveillance.”
Deacon nods and turns his focus to the darkness that plagues our way through the maze. No flashlights or anything remotely close can be used that would put off light and potentially alert any wandering predators. It’s a gamble, one I’m leery of, but overall seems to make the most sense.
Deacon carefully moves out into the open, stepping slowly at first and training his weapon over the darkness. It’s obvious he was no military man as he stumbles around as if he is trying to fit the part. To be honest, I don’t think any of us know what the rules are, if any. Kill or be killed is all it seems to be.
Everyone gets to their feet and falls into a rhythmic sync, flowing through the congested corridor with a quick but cautious pace. Bringing up the rear and feeling like death warmed over—bad pun to be using at this time—I keep hearing bumps and what sounds like something crawling around. Since I don’t have any kind of light to investigate, I have to rely on the shoddy overhead lights that go in and out at regular intervals. Even when the dim lighted lamps try to reveal the things that are going bump in the night, or so I’m guessing, I just chalk it up to some nasty ass rat or bug army of some kind moving through, but the sound seems to be closing in on us.
I peer up and notice a long stretch of pipes snaking along above us, old and rusted in many spots. Metal braces that have lost their tension and are pulling away from the concrete ceiling, hold the pipes in a loose fashion. It could just be the building aging and going through its bout of arthritis, cracking and popping as every little second of time creeps by. It sounds like a pile of crap, and probably is, but it’s one that I am willing to buy at this moment. I refrain from saying anything to the others in fear that they may panic and cause more harm than need be.
I keep the repeating noise close to my ears and turn my focus back in front of me, feeling more lightheaded now. My body sways. My legs are heavy and acting as if they are encased in concrete blocks, struggling to take just one step. At this point, I’m not too confident that I can defend myself from a common cold.
“Did you hear that?” Deacon asks, pausing and tilting his head to the side, trying to get a beat on the strange noise.
Everyone stops and listens to the same creepy ass crawling and scratching sound that I heard just a few seconds ago. It is faint and yet loud at the same time, playing like an ominous part from a horror movie.
“What the hell is that?” Pete asks with his weapon trained over the mounds of crates and barrels that clutter up both sides of the hall. There are so many places for something dead to lie in that it is nearly impossible to know for sure.
Off to our right and engulfed in blackness, something moves around between the crates, sending every gun targeting that area. I’m getting anxious—palms sweating and even shaking a bit.
What is going on with me?
Pete steps forward, slowly and cautiously, his weapon against his shoulder and his finger tickling the trigger. He inches his way to a set of crates that are stacked like Lego blocks—two on the bottom spaced apart and one resting on top—leaving a gaping hole of blackness that looks endless and deadly. I’ve seen this scenario too many times before and it never ends well. Something springs out of the unknown darkness and tears its victim limb from limb. I guess I’m a tad bit glad it’s Pete checking it out.
“You don’t think it’s one of those things, do you?” Casey asks, her voice trembling with fear. She steps to the side and huddles up next to Deacon, who looks uneasy as well.
“I can’t see anything,” Pete says in a low tone, reaching deep into one of his pockets that line both sides of his dingy khaki cargo pants. “Where the hell is my lighter?”
I slip my hand into my pocket and pull out the Zippo with the dragon on it. I still have no clue where this came from. I don’t even smoke.
“Here!”
I hand the lighter to Pete, hoping the flame is still good and that it doesn’t uncover something that is grossly disfigured and ready for an afternoon delight. And I’m not referring to the good kind either.
Holding the lighter in his right hand and his gun trained ahead in his left, Pete flicks the top open and strikes the wheel, producing a spark that catches and illuminates the darkened corner. I stay as focused and ready as I can considering I feel like shit. Seeing nothing so far, Pete moves in a little closer, the flame swaying from side to side. Not sure why.
I hear that scratching and squirming noise behind me now. No . . . wait, it is to my left, and the right. I’m not sure if anyone else hears this as they all seem too focused on what’s lurking within the crates.
Kneeling and getting as close as I guess he wants to, Pete probes the nooks and spaces around the crate, his head bobbing from side to side. He holds still for a second, not moving, making me wonder if he sees what it is. He moves the lighter in closer, the narrow flame bringing to life a giant rat that jets out of the darkness and darts between Pete’s feet, sending the women into a hysterical scream that could wake the dead. Or worse yet, alert them.
Snickering hard, and trying to keep from busting out laughing, Pete turns around and looks at Alice and Casey, extinguishing the flame. “You’ve got to be kidding. After eve
rything we’ve seen, you’re afraid of a damn rat?”
“Shut up, asshole, it scared us and it was huge,” Casey says, her brow slanted down and a scowl plastered on her face.
“Here, you might want to take my gun to fend off those man-eating . . .” Pete says laughingly.
Something bursts from the stacked crates sitting directly behind Casey, jetting forward with voracity, and ramming its spear like arm through Casey’s back. Blood sprays Pete in the face like a water hose gone mad as it erupts out of her chest, sending a wave of panic through the now dwindling group.
Training his weapon on the thing devouring Casey’s neck and shoulder, Pete readies a round. Something crawls out from between the darkened crates behind him, grabbing his feet. Pete tumbles to the floor, his head slamming against the concrete and his gun dislodging from his hands. Blood pools under the side of his face. His body remains limp as he’s dragged into the black abyss.
Deacon pulls his Glock up and places a single round in the rotting flesh of the thing’s head that’s eating Casey. It falls backwards into the crates. Casey’s munched on body crumbles to the floor half eaten, blood and chunks of meaty red flesh dangling from her bones.
On my knees and trying to focus every bit of strength I have left, I grab Pete’s arms and pull back. In my mind, I’m pissed off to the point of a nuclear meltdown, but my body feels tattered and worn, crippling my ability to do anything but watch him sink further into the unknown. I know I dislike the bastard, but I don’t need him dead just yet. Man, does that make me sound like an asshole or what?
I hear the army of undead echoing through the corridor and dig as deep as I can go, leaning back and pulling with all my might.
Both Alice and Deacon join in. Pete’s body reverses direction and slowly emerges out of the crates.
“So, tell me again, why are we saving this asshole?” I ask jokingly. My body is on the verge of a total shutdown and the odds of me getting back up and getting the hell out of here are looking slim.
“Because he may be an asshole, but at least he’s human,” Deacon replies through clinched teeth.
Well, human may be a stretch. Am I any better?
Kneeling there and paying no mind to what else is out for our succulent bodies, I don’t even notice the undead monster come up on us. It is slow moving and quiet, almost as if it was hunting like a lion in the Savannah. Its arms and hands are stripped of most of its flesh, leaving a thin layer of mutilated meaty skin that clings to the dull white bones. The skin from its face is torn and ripped all over, its eyes missing and leaving two hollow spaces.
“Behind you!” I yell to Deacon, sending his head twisting around.
Its hands are already reaching for Deacon’s shoulder, its mouth ajar. I could have sworn I saw it lick its dried up, crusty lips, like dinner was served. Deacon lets go of Pete’s arm and turns to the vile thing, grabbing its throat with his right hand and shoving back. Its jaws snap and it gives that crazed moan.
Things are quickly getting out of hand. With Deacon letting go, I can’t hold on to Pete any longer. I feel nearly drained and don’t need to risk our lives any more for a lost cause. I let go and Pete’s motionless body slides back in the darkness, disappearing from sight.
Deacon manages to remove his Glock and places the barrel under the dead man’s chin, its meatless fingers gliding around Deacon’s face as it tries to move in closer for the kill. I can hear him grunting and straining to hold it back. The gun sounds off and the thing’s brains splatter out the top of its head. I struggle to get to my feet.
Deacon turns my way, his gun pointed to the ground as Alice grabs my arm and helps me up. I’m in bad shape and almost feel like a burden to the others, feeble and without any energy to spare. I don’t know why I’m nearly spent, but I’m thankful the others didn’t ditch me and run.
“We need to get . . .” Deacon is cut off mid sentence when another one of the infected, more preserved, materializes out of the darkness and grabs him. It tosses him with relative ease against some barrels and crates, creating a clanging sound that echoes through the musty stale air.
I remove Alice’s hold on my arm and shove her behind me. I will do what I can to stop it or at least slow it down, allowing her to run somewhere. My spaghetti legs wobble uncontrollably and my one remaining good eye is dimming by the second.
Man, we are so screwed.
I’m not sure what happened to the gun I was carrying. I must have kicked it away in all the commotion.
The thing stands there, breathing heavy, its black eyes starring right into my soul, bearing sharp, stained red teeth and a pale face that still looks fresher than most I have seen thus far. But this one is different. It’s dressed in some kind of black combat gear and is much more agile and stronger than the others. The way it just tossed Deacon to the side like a rag doll doesn’t give me much confidence about beating it.
Saliva oozes from both corners of its crusty dried lips and its body heaves like it’s getting ready to charge us. The other moans are so close now. If we make it out of this alive and in one piece, it will be a miracle. “Whatever happens, I want you to run and get the hell away from here.”
Alice holds firm behind me, her hands gripping my sides and her chin resting on my shoulder as the dead combat solider darts forward with arms and hands reaching for us. I muster what little strength I can and collide with the dead soldier, grabbing its arms and feebly kneeing it in the side. Its breath smells of rotten flesh and some putrid concoction that nearly burns my eyes up. I think all I did was piss it off more.
It easily overpowers me and throws me to the side, slamming my already aching body against some crates. The wood splinters and gives way as I bust through it, sending something dull and jagged into my side. It feels as if someone’s digging a rusted knife into my kidneys. Blood flows freely from the gash and my breathing goes from shitty to almost nothing.
“Alice . . . get out . . . of . . . here.”
The dead soldier takes his attention away from me, and stares at Alice. Not sure if it’s saving me for later or just wants more of a challenge. Maybe it’s the chase that tastes so much sweeter. The thrill of the hunt, if you will.
Alice turns to run, but is confronted with a solid wall of dead bodies marching her way. Heads cocked to the side and arms reaching out in front of them, the crowd of mindless man-eaters surge forward. Watching a man bite it and get ripped to shreds was hard enough, but having to witness a woman engulfed is unbearable.
The dead soldier rushes forward and grabs Alice from behind, trying to sink its teeth into her succulent skin. Its arms wrap around her chest and lift her off the ground, sending Alice’s screams like a dagger into my fading heart.
I’ve become so soft. Damn it!
All I can do is watch the soldier toy with its food, its jaws snapping at the nape of Alice’s neck like a wild animal. She thrashes around, and dodges its every attempt to take a taste, keeping her neck and body forward as much as possible to avoid its lethal bite.
I’m right there on the floor, bleeding to death as far as I can tell, and I can’t even swat at the damn thing. It’s getting so close to sinking its teeth into her. One nibble and that’s it for Alice, and I’m stuck here like a helpless piece of crap to watch this horrid scene play out like a stomach churning car wreck. To add insult to injury, the murder of undead souls is getting within striking distance. Perfect!
I try to will myself over to the soldier, to kick it, punch it—hell even insult it to make it let go and temporarily forget about her. No dice though. It doesn’t act like I’m even there. But Alice seems damn determined to not end up on the dinner table.
Amidst the screaming and squirming, Alice tosses her dirty blonde head back and whacks it in the thing’s pale, decaying nose. A loud crunch fills my ears and the sight of its thick, black, coagulated blood oozing out of its nose like a leaky faucet sends joy down my spine. Too bad she just pissed it off that much more.
The strikingly hard bl
ow did jack to deter it from keeping after its meal, and it still advances its teeth at her. Somehow, Alice wiggles out of its grasp and falls to the floor, twisting her head around and looking upon death itself with a scared shitless expression. It wastes little time with thoughts of “should I or shouldn’t I” and advances again, but is suddenly stopped cold by something that grabs it from behind.
Where the hell did that come from?
The unknown savior wraps its arms around the soldier’s chest and sinks its teeth into the side of the soldier’s neck, pulling away and ripping a massive amount of rotten flesh away that sends blood squirting out the side. Half of its neck missing, the soldier convulses like an epileptic while the mysterious thing devours the meaty mess.
The soldier crumples to the floor hard and lifeless, again, right at the soles of my feet as this rogue infected kneels down and digs in. Now I have witnessed some pretty messed up crap since being here, but I have yet to see one dead bastard eat another. I’m not complaining, just really confused about which team this thing is really batting for.
I keep my movement to a minimum and twist my heavy head towards Alice, trying to get her attention while this thing feasts. My eyesight is super blurry now, and I feel as if I will faint at any moment.
Alice has this petrified look on her face, her mouth ajar as if she might hurl. The squishing sound is nauseating as that thing continues tearing chunks of bloody, dead meat from that soldier. My stomach churns and burns, the smell gripping my nostrils and filling them with that putrid odor.
“Alice.” I try to keep my voice low and unnoticeable, finally breaking Alice’s trance of utter fear and uncertainty. She looks my way, tears slowly trickling down her reddish checks. I can see the vague outline of something coming up behind her. I know what it is and again I’m helpless to do anything.
“Get up and get out of here now!” I finally yell at her, not caring that one of them is right next to me. It still seems occupied.
Afflicted: Patient Zero (An Outbreak Zombie Infected Horror Suspense Series, Book 1) Page 5