Domain of the Dead

by Iain McKinnon

  He reached the door, unholstered his gun and cocked the weapon with a sharp click.

  Sarah could see beads of sweat across the man’s forehead caught by the unnatural red light.

  He stood at the side of the door and reached out for the handle. Turning the lock, he eased the door open a fraction to peer through. The door flew open and in burst a zombie. The guard leapt back, firing wildly as he did.

  Sarah instinctively ducked, covering her ears against the thunderous noise of the gun. The din of the gun blast seemed to be amplified against the cold metal bulkheads, with the sound smacking around the small brig almost as violently as the shots themselves.

  Two more cadavers heaved their way into the brig and towards the guard. All of the zombies wore military uniforms and all of them looked freshly resurrected. Panicking, the guard fired repeated shots at the creatures. Some of the shots struck the dead crewmen but none of them delivered a coup de grâce.

  “Take aimed shots!” Bates shouted above the clamour. “Just one at a time!”

  Backed up against the wall, the guard took careful aim at the lead zombie. He pulled the trigger and the bullet found its target. A neat hole erupted just above the bridge of its nose. The exit wound was not as neat. The back of the zombie’s skull shattered.

  The guard swung his aim round, but the other two zombies were too close. He tussled with them, trying to get his gun in a position to fire while avoiding a bite. The gun went off and the second zombie dropped, but before the guard could switch his attention the third creature clamped its jaws around his neck.

  The guard’s face contorted as his scream threw his mouth open. The zombie pulled back, ripping open its victim’s neck. Seizing back the initiative, the guard shoved the gun into the zombie’s face and pulled the trigger.

  The corpse crashed to the floor.

  Blood gushed from the guard’s wound, pulsing out with the rhythm of his heartbeat. Stumbling over to the entrance, blood pouring from his neck, he pushed his shoulder into the door, heaving it closed. Exhausted by his exertion, he slid to the ground, his back to the door, one hand on his gun and the other clamped over his neck, the blood flooding out from between his fingers.

  Sprawled against the door, the guard looked into the cell. “I’ve been bit.”

  His voice was weak and even in the red light his face looked pale. He lifted up the gun, opened his mouth and pushed the barrel inside.

  “No, wait!” Bates screamed as the trigger was pulled.

  There was a sharp click as the hammer struck the firing pin, but nothing else. The guard removed the gun from his mouth and looked at it in confusion. The magazine was empty.

  Bates let out a sigh as he blew out the breath he’d been holding. His muscles slackened in relief. “You’ve got to let us out off here first!”

  Sluggishly, the guard fell forward onto his knees, one hand covering his wound, his gun hand knuckles down supporting him he shuffled forward like a lame dog. His eyes flickered as if fighting against sleep. His head fell limp and his joints buckled, sending him crashing to the deck. His hand fell free of his neck and the very last few drops of blood trickled out to drip onto the brig floor.

  “Ah, fuck man!” Bates kicked the bars in frustration. He spun round, both hands running through his hair. His well defined muscles were ridged with tension and he looked as if he would start tearing his hair out at any moment. He stamped his foot on the deck. “Fuck!”

  “What do we do now?!” Nathan exclaimed.

  “Not much to do,” Bates said, pacing the length of the cell. “Hope we get rescued before we starve to death in here.”

  “We’d die of thirst first.” Sarah said, looking through the bars in dismay.

  Bates rubbed his head the way he had when he’d taken his helmet off in the chopper. The action seamed to calm him down. “Die of thirst? That’s comforting... I think.”

  Sarah got down on her knees.

  “I don’t think praying’s going to help,” Bates said.

  Laying down on the cell floor, Sarah squeezed up to the bars. She laid side on so as to get as much reach as possible with her arm. “I think I can grab him.”

  “The keys!” Bates rushed over. “You’re going to pull him in and get the keys off his belt.”

  Nathan stood with a pinkie in his ear, waggling it to try and subdue the ringing from the recent gun shots. “You’re doing what?”

  “She’s getting the keys,” Bates said slowly and with exaggerated mouth movements.

  “That’s the idea.” Sarah huffed as she adjusted her position and stretched out her slender arm.

  It slipped with ease between cold metal bars and out towards the dead guard, her fingertips just touching the man’s shirt. She tried jamming her shoulder into the gap between the bars to get that little bit further.

  Wedging herself further, Sarah grunted as she pawed for the shirt, but he was just too far away. Shifting her position slightly, she turned her head away from the corpse and stretched her left arm out across the floor for purchase. Her head tilted away, putting her neck in a more relaxed position, affording the muscles around her shoulder joint more flexibility and mobility. Using her left hand for purchase, Sarah pushed her shoulder flat and eased it out through the bars. She walked her fingers onto the dead guard’s shirt and up to a seam. Again she couldn’t get far enough up to grasp the shirt. Pushing her fingertips against the fabric as hard as she could, she tried to snag the cloth and pull it back. She reasoned that if she could pull enough back she could then maybe get a proper grip. Her nails rasped against the cloth trying to gain purchase as she pulled her hand back. Her knuckles blanched with the pressure and the muscles turned first pink, then red, until finally turning purple from the pressure. Her whole arm trembled from the exertion.

  Nathan and Bates whispered their encouragement. Slip followed tug over and over again. Sarah closed her eyes, frustrated by her lack of success and the hindrance of facing the wrong way to be able to see what she was doing.

  She screwed her eyes up tight and let out a hiss of breath to convey her annoyance. With her eyes closed she could concentrate on the feel of cloth beneath her fingertips. The lactic acids burning in her arm told her she would have to give up very soon.

  Then the fabric began to crumple and slip. It was working. Millimetre by millimetre, Sarah was pulling more and more of the shirt towards her, all the time gaining momentum, almost enough for her to get a proper grasp.

  Facing away from the corpse, Sarah couldn’t see the dead guards eyes flicker open. The words of encouragement ended abruptly and in the same instant a hand grabbed her. It grasped around her forearm just below the elbow.

  Sarah turned and tried to pull away. The freshly resurrected zombie lurched forward, grabbing her arm with both hands. An excited gasp of air hissed out from its lips as it brought its gaping maw snapping down at Sarah’s flesh. Sarah felt a second pair of hands grab her but this time it was her other arm. Before the newly reanimated zombie could snap its teeth shut, she had been yanked free of its grasp and pulled deeper into the cell.

  She looked up to see Bates towering above her, extending a hand down. She accepted his hand and he lifted her to her feet.

  Sarah felt the strength in his muscles as he wrapped a supportive arm around her waist to steady her. She looked up into his eyes, grateful for her rescue. Her heart was hammering from the shock and she could still feel the impression of the zombie’s hands around her arm. All of the terror collapsed, dispelled by the presence of the man standing in front of her. She felt soothed by his closeness. He placed his right hand on her shoulder and slowly let it slip down her arm. His fingers gently raked their way down, past her elbow, down her forearm and onto her wrist, until his hand clasped hers.

  Sarah couldn’t hold back the shudder that tingled through her or the soft gasp of air as he turned her hand over. Bates brought his left hand down the soft white skin of the underside of her forearm until his hands met. clasping Sarah’s betw
een them.

  “You look clean,” Bates said in a firm voice. “No scratches.”

  The dead guard slammed up against the outside of the cell, snarling and flailing. Thrusting his arms between the bars, the ghoul snatched at the air in a forlorn attempt to seize its prey. Wild with fury, his lips curled back, the zombie lashed out, its gnashing teeth dripping with saliva. He snarled like a rabid dog.

  “Don’t look too happy at having his meal interrupted,” Bates quipped.

  Sarah took a couple of deep breaths. She knew her cellmates would assume she was trying to regain her composure after the fright, but in truth Sarah had felt a different primordial reaction.

  She granted herself a fleeting smile, a physical acknowledgment of the brief moment of arousal she’d felt for Bates, before returning to their situation.

  “I thought when you resurrected you were brain dead, but that fucker looks real pissed,” Nathan said.

  “Animals get angry,” Sarah offered. “Doesn’t mean they’re intelligent. It’s just an instinct.”

  Bates stepped a little closer, but still out of reach of the zombie. He stepped from side to side, watching as the zombie followed him with thrashing arms.

  “He’s working on autopilot,” Bates said without taking his eyes of the zombie. “Like the knee-jerk reaction. It doesn’t take any thought. If he could think, he’d just take his keys and open up the door.”

  “We’ve got to get those keys.” Nathan pawed at his chin as if trying to find a solution.

  “Anything for a quiet life, eh!” Bates signalled to Nathan. “You grab his right arm. I’ll grab his left.”

  “My left or your left?” Nathan asked.

  “What the fuck?! We’re facing the same way!”

  “I mean our left or his left?”

  “His left.” Bates stood agog. “Look, just grab the one on your side. When we do, Sarah can get the key. Okay?”

  “Sure,” Nathan said, nodding his head in agreement.

  Bates looked over at Sarah for consent.

  She nodded.

  Taking up a stance with his weight on his front leg, Bates started swaying as if he were about to try to leap a chasm. “One… two…”

  “Whoa! Whoa!” Nathan shouted, his hands raised in front of him, palms facing out. “On three or after three?”

  Sarah stepped between the pair. “Boys...” She paused and looked them in the eye, in turn. “Just grab him now!”

  The two men lunged at the zombie. Its arms lashed out, trying to haul them into its maw. The bars rattled and clanked as the two men battled to subdue the creature.

  Bates managed to get a two-handed grasp, one below the wrist and the other gripped onto its forearm.

  “Fuck me, this bugger’s strong!” Bates gritted, fighting to restrain it.

  “Shit!” Nathan cursed as he completely lost control of the zombie’s other arm.

  The dead crewman used his freedom to get closer to Bates. It pushed its snarling face hard against the bars. The metal rods jammed into its cheeks. Only the bone beneath prevented it from forcing its way through.

  Bates stared into the snarling creature’s eyes. Its irises were still plain to see, unlike the clouded white that old zombies seemed to turn.

  The creature used Bates’ grip against him. It flexed its dead muscle and started to pull him closer to the bars.

  Bates could smell the fresh blood that glistened black in the red light on the cadaver’s neck.

  “Have you been working out?” Bates joked as he struggled against the zombie.

  Bates was a military trained man. He was strong and he was practiced but the creature he fought struggled harder than any living man could. It didn’t feel pain, it ignored fatigue, it fought until its muscles ripped.

  Bates had an epiphany.

  “Fuck it!” he snarled as he pulled the zombie’s arm fully into the cell and snapped it back against the bars. Its humerus split in two with a sickening crack. The zombie still flailed unabated, but without the bone for leverage the arm was useless.

  Bates held onto the struggling zombie. The arm still tensed and contracted, but deprived of its anchoring the muscles had no purchase. The zombie shoved itself at the bars again and Bates felt the two ends of raw bone rasp together. The crunching ragged edges of bone sent shudders down the zombie’s arm each time they grated together. Bates too shuddered at the sound of bone against bone.

  He shouted, “Grab the other arm!”

  Nathan danced in and grabbed the ghoul’s arm.

  “Now, Sarah!” Nathan barked.

  Sarah lunged between them, falling onto her knees. She thrust her right arm through the bars and grabbed for the keys clipped to the cadaver’s waist. Although pinned by both arms, the creature still writhed with considerable force. It threw its weight left then right, fighting not to break loose but to break through. The keys on its hip jangled and bounced as the zombie flailed.

  Sarah grasped hold of the keys and yanked hard to dislodge them. The serrated edges of the metal dug into her palms as she pulled, but instead of feeling a jolt of resistance the keys came away easily. Then the cord reached its full extension and snapped taut. Sarah lost her grip and the keys whirled back, drawn by the keychain reel clipped to the guard’s belt.

  Sarah reached through the bars again, this time grabbing the whole reel. She pulled down at it, but the backing clip held firm, simply tugging at the guard’s trousers. Again she tried, this time pushing the reel up and over. The unit slipped up and was almost clear when the zombie twisted, snagging the keys against a belt loop. The whole thing was wrenched from Sarah’s grasp and fell clattering to the floor. The zombie’s foot clipped the bunch of keys and with a loud jangle they went skittering across the deck. Terrified that they could be knocked out of reach, Sarah plunged her hand down and clutched her fingers over them. Just as she did, the zombie lurched against its restrainers and brought its foot down on Sarah’s hand.

  For an instant Sarah couldn’t work out what had went crunch. Then the pain hit her.

  A scream punched its way out of her mouth as her eyes welled up with tears. The zombie shuffled and Sarah snatched her hand back through the bars. She sobbed, cradling her hand to her chest, too scared to look down at where the pain was coming from, too worried by what the damage would be.

  “I’ve got it!” Nathan called as he let go of the zombie’s arm. He ducked down and made a grab for the keys.

  “Hurry up!” Bates screamed as the zombie tried to pull away.

  Bates felt something tear—something soft. He looked down to see the zombie’s bicep ripped open by the jagged end of the bone underneath. In the tug of war between them, it was the zombie’s flesh that was giving way. The skin was being sawn open from the inside by the frantic heaving.

  “I can’t hold him!” Bates warned.

  Nathan threw himself to the back of the cell, keys held aloft in triumph. “Got ‘em!”

  “Thank fuck,” Bates said as he let go of the half severed arm and stepped out of reach.

  The frustrated creature let out a plaintive moan. Its face pressed against the bars, drool dripping off its chin. Its arms outstretched through the bars, the mangled and broken arm swinging limp from the bicep, twitching spasmodically as it dangled.

  Bates knelt down. He felt nauseous. Remembering the feeling of the bones grinding together sent kicks of revulsion to his stomach. He swallowed back the taste of bile and turned to Sarah.

  “Let me see,” he said, softly looking down to where Sarah hid her hand.

  Still too scared to look, Sarah took her good hand away, and turning her head she held out her injured hand.

  “Okay,” Bates said as he looked at her crumpled fingers. “It looks like the index and middle fingers are broken.”

  He stood up and walked over to the bunk he’d been using before Sarah and Nathan’s incarceration. At the foot of the bunk there was a metal cup with the hilt of a spoon protruding from the lip. Bates picked up the spoon
and wiped it on the bed covers.

  He called over the noise of the whining zombie, “Nathan, pull the covers off that bed and rip me some strips off to use as bandages.”

  Nathan nodded and started about his task.

  Bates sat down next to Sarah again. He had the spoon in both hands and was bending it at the neck. “I’m going to splint those two fingers. It’s not going to stop them from hurting but it’ll make it a bit more comfortable.” He looked over his shoulder at the snarling zombie. “Well, as comfortable as you get given the situation.”

  Sarah nodded as Nathan passed over a wad of stripped linen.

  “This is going to hurt,” Bates said as he snapped the head off the spoon.

  Nathan held out his hand “Here. Squeeze it as hard as you like.”

  Sarah clasped her good hand into Nathan’s and started taking some deep breaths.

  “I’ll be as quick as I can,” Bates said.

  He took firm hold of Sarah’s broken fingers and pulled.

  Sarah screamed. She screamed so hard even the zombie was stunned. Blackness rushed in around her vision. Her head giddy and light, it rolled onto her chest and she passed out.

  * * *

  When she woke up, the first thing she heard was the zombie’s wheezy moan.

  “Don’t get up.”

  It was Nathan’s voice she heard. Sarah started to regain her bearings. She was still in the cell, but now she was laying on one of the cots, coarse woollen blanket on top of her.

  “You passed out,” Nathan said.

  Sarah raised her head to look at her bandaged hand. Her fingertips and the ragged end of a broken spoon poked out from the dressing.

  “Not the best looking bandage I know, but it will do,” Bates said. “How are you feeling?”

  “Okay I guess. How long was I out?”

  “About half an hour.”

  “So what’s the plan?”

  “Get the fuck out off here!” Nathan offered.

  Sarah slowly sat up in bed, careful not to place any weight on her injured hand. “I had expected a little more planning than that, Nathan.”