by West, Mark
I notice blood seeping under my door, confirming my suspicions. She has come for me because I caused her harm. She is seeking revenge. If she can think, she probably knows I’m trapped. Hair sweeps from her face as she begins to move, and I notice her mouth casually open. A tongue flickers about and my body explodes in a rush of pins and needles. Is she tasting the air for me? The thought sends a chill down my spine and I feel as if I’m sweating profusely from every pore on my body. It chills in the cold air causing my skin to go ice cold. I begin to shiver uncontrollably. Suddenly she is up and running towards the back of the room. The pink shoes follow her only to disappear amongst the dozens of feet.
I can’t see her anymore, or the child, and wonder why the Infected are not coming for me. Apart from a few who shuffle their feet, they are all now still. They don’t seem interested in me. She knows where I am. Why are they ignoring me?
Too much thinking has my brain in a spin. I’m sad that so early on in my life my plans for a future will be cut short. Why did we come here? I curse myself for being so stubborn and wanting the panels. Now I will die for nothing.
Anger fuels my body: a fierce heat burning deep within. I spot the metal pole lying alone on the floor and decide to pick it up. I squeeze it tight and feel the power it holds. This alone is my ticket out of here. I have a plan. It’s terrible, but my only option. I walk to the door and begin belting it furiously.
‘Come and get me you bastards!’
They growl like a lawn mower on a cold winter’s day and begin scratching, banging, and kicking at my door to get to me.
‘You hear me! Come and get me!’
I smash the baton more and more into the centre of the door, until I feel the muscle in my arm tighten and I begin to slow. But they won’t slow. They will belt this thing down until they get to me.
I smile and take a step back, willing the group to come for me, but mostly willing her to run at me so I can strike her down once and for all. I know I won’t survive this fight, but it’s a hell of a lot better than curling up in a ball and starving to death.
Chapter 28
THE PLAN
Lincoln runs to the tree line and dives into the bushes, rolling onto his side. He looks back at the building. It’s seems quiet outside, no Infected in sight, but that doesn’t mean one hasn’t seen him escape. It is still misty dark, but he can make them out through the windows with the available light: dozens of them, all shuffling around inside as if searching for something. What brought you all here?
After a minute or two of no movement he props himself up against a tree to inspect the damage. His arms are all cut up from squeezing through the hole, and his ankle throbs from when he dived for cover. He moves it about gingerly, gritting his teeth and wincing as he stands. But it doesn’t seem to be any more than a sprain. It’s time I found Jackson. I’m the one who got him into this mess.
Hiding himself amongst the shadows he begins scanning the building while creeping along the tree line, searching for anything that may give him an indication to where Jackson might be held. Twenty minutes later the birds are beginning to chirp and there is a faint glow creeping through the trees. The morning air is still fresh, and Lincoln is shivering as he desperately circles the building for the third time, ducking in and out of pallets, cars, barrels and anything he can find to hide behind. The Infected are still inside. He has managed to stay well-hidden, but knows that as the sun gets higher his chances of remaining undetected will diminish.
He goes back to the tree line, unsuccessful in finding Jackson, and stops to catch his breath and nurse his swollen ankle. His lips are cracked and his teeth are chattering, but he has to keep going. He peers back at the building, watching the light slowly creep across the grass until it hits the metal cladding. He’s about to get moving again and do one more round, when he spots something shimmering on the cladding like wet paint. It stands out clearly now there is light. Blood.
The blood surrounds a small, square vent. Lincoln takes a step closer, now right at the edge of the trees, and stares at the spot. There are no windows to this part of the building, no doors either and he decides to take a chance, running quickly behind a parked car and then behind a barrel so that he can get a closer look. The blood is obviously fresh. When he is just metres away, he notices the signature black swirl he’d seen in the blood of the Infected. He can hear the rumble of thumping and banging inside and decides to call out. There’s not much time; the sun is getting higher by the second. ‘Jackson,’ he hisses. ‘Are you in there?’
Lincoln waits, checking behind him, scared that something is creeping up. A pair of tired, green eyes peer through the hole.
‘Jackson!’ he exclaims, covering his mouth to stop himself from shouting. He lowers his voice. ‘I’ve been searching all over for you.’
‘Mate, you’ve got to get me out of here,’ Jackson says, urgently. ‘I don’t know how much longer the door can hold them off.’
‘What should I do?’
‘I got no idea. What’s it like out there?’
Lincoln can hear the panic in Jackson’s voice.
‘All clear so far, but I suspect that will change once the sun’s up.’
‘I’m not sure how long I’ve got.’ Jackson pauses for a few seconds, looking back into the room. ‘Is our truck still here?’
Lincoln knows it is, and knows the keys are still inside too. It hasn’t moved since they arrived. It was one of the first things he checked when he escaped. He had planned to leave if he couldn’t find Jackson, but guilt kept him looking. If he hadn’t seen the blood …
‘Yeah, it’s still here,’ he says, sheepishly.
‘You should get out of here. Leave me and warn the others that—’
A loud crash cuts Jacksons off and causes Lincoln to cower behind the barrel.
‘What was that?’ Lincoln asks.
‘Not sure, but you need to go. Now!’
‘I’m not leaving you mate, there has to be a way.’
Jackson doesn’t argue. Lincoln can tell he wants to live.
‘What’s the external cladding?’ Jackson asks.
‘Just standard sheet metal like you see on roofs and sheds. Why?’
Jackson answers with his own question. ‘You’re sure the truck is right to move without being noticed?’
‘Yeah, I think so. None of the doors or windows are broken, and we didn’t open the blinds on that side. I think I can move it away without being noticed. Why? What do you have planned?
‘Hold on.’
Lincoln waits nervously while Jackson ducks away from the vent. The birds are awake, and in the distance he can hear a cow calling. He wonders how the animals will fair now no one is there to feed them, especially the caged ones. Jackson appears again moments later, eyes full of life, and whispers back excitedly, ‘I got a plan.’
Chapter 29
ACTION
I wait anxiously for Lincoln, pacing up and down the room, tapping my fingers on my head and mumbling. I recite the plan over and over, making sure I have ironed out any flaws. I really hope it works, because it may be my only shot at survival. If not, I guess Lincoln will need to leave without me. I hear a tap against the wall near the vent.
‘I’m back.’
I inspect Lincoln’s collection, anxious that something may be missing. He is standing with a pair of steel poles, each a few metres in length, a coiled rope and some thick, slightly rusty chain. I beam with excitement. ‘Looks like you got all the stuff. How did you go with the truck?’
‘Should be right to move it without being noticed, if I roll it before starting.’
‘Perfect. How many out there?’
He shakes his head. ‘None that I could see. With that loud thumping still at your door, and with the windows and doors this side still secure, we should have some time before we’re noticed.’
‘We may have a chance then.’ I say excitedly.
Lincoln wearily smiles back, and I now notice the exhaustion on his fac
e. The side of his head seems swollen and I can see he is walking with a slight limp. I’m impressed and beg him in my mind to keep going a little further for my sake.
‘Pass me the poles first, then the rope. Once I’m finished setting up, I’ll grab the end of the chain and hook it on.’
I grab the poles as they come through, sliding them quietly, trying not to make a sound. The length proves difficult as I manoeuvre them around the room, but eventually I have both resting by the wall. I feel pleased with myself. Once all the materials are in the room, I quickly go to work. I lift the poles against the inside wall in a cross formation from corner to corner, and line up the centre with the external vent, then tie them together with rope. I pull the rope tight, feeling the strain before letting go, satisfied it’s not going to come apart.
When I’m finished, I call out to Lincoln with further instructions, ‘Oi, numb nuts, I’m ready. Pass me the chain.’
‘Idiot … Here you go.’
With the poles covering most of the vent, all I can see is a knot of chain coming at me. I pull the chain through as quickly as possible, trying not to let it rattle on the external wall. I hook it around the centre of the poles with a D-shackle. It forms a strong cross formation. I yank at the chain a few times, testing the strength of the construction, before looping it back and calling to Lincoln.
‘Done.’
‘Count down from sixty then start making noise,’ he instructs.
‘Will do … And good luck.’ But he’s left, and I doubt he heard me.
At the twenty second mark, I have my metal pole ready in my right hand. At the fifteen second mark, I start to pace the room. My nerves are tighter than a guitar string that’s about to snap.
At the ten second mark I begin to panic, running my hands through my hair as I recite the plan over and over in my mind. I’ve convinced myself I have made a big mistake, but know there is no turning back now. Six, five. No time to back out. Two, one.
I begin screaming at the top of my lungs, hitting the pole furiously against the door. ‘Come and get me!’ Whack! Whack! Whack! ‘You think I’m scared of a bunch of tossers like you!’
I kick at the door while hitting it repeatedly with the metal pole. It clangs back loudly, and I feel the walls, ceiling and door shudder violently. But it doesn’t stop me, and I continue the nonsense until I hear a distant rumble from outside the building. I stop, but only for a second, so that I can confirm the sound I’m hearing. The rumble grows louder, and I know what I hear is correct: the truck.
Without further hesitation, I turn back to the door and begin hitting it with all my energy, making as much noise as possible in an attempt to drown out the sound of the engine. The Infected growl and snarl like rabid dogs. They scratch at the door; I almost feel sorry for them. But only for a second, then stomp on a scurrying hand, that is reaching under the door, as if it were a spider. I peer up at the growing cracks in the ceiling and hope it will hold a while longer.
The chain begins to show signs of tension and I hear a faint rattle along the centre of the pipes. I continue to kick backwards at the door like a wild horse as the chain tightens and pulls the poles hard against the wall. The truck’s engine roars, the creaking in the wall turns into a deep groan and the metal poles start to bend and twist in the sheeting. I thump and kick at the door as I cheer Lincoln on in my mind. Tear that wall down Lincoln! Rip it down! But gasp when I spot the chain straining at the joins and doubt washes over me. Just hold on. Please hold on.
Within minutes there is a clear indentation to all four corners of the wall where the metal poles have pressed deep into the sheets. I’m begging for the wall to give in to the power of the Hilux, when the engine stops. The chain goes slack and I watch helplessly as the poles begin to sag back towards me. The poles lean further and further back into the room and I can see my hopes and dreams coming to an end. The Infected continue to drum at the door relentlessly, completely unaware of my failed escape. What is happening? I fear for my friend’s life, but selfishly fear for mine more. I’m still trapped and have nowhere to go.
I slide my back down the wall, my butt hitting the floor, and sprawl my legs out in defeat. I sit there watching the poles dangle off the chain like a yoyo on a string. I have lost all hope.
The roar of an engine makes me sit up. The chain suddenly tightens and the poles slam back up against the wall with an impact that rocks the room. It creates a shock wave that sends tingles up my legs and through my body. I jump to my feet in excitement, but notice the banging to my door has stopped. ‘Shit!’
I dive to my stomach, ignoring the groaning of the wall behind me, and slide across the floor so I can look under the door. I can see rapidly moving feet. They are scurrying back through the room and away from my door.
An intense crash rocks through the room, so loud it is painful. I quickly turn my head to see dust rain down from the ceiling and the remains of the wall being dragged across the grass. The morning light shines through the room. I suck in the fresh air that has rushed in, replacing the stale particles.
I’m still on my stomach when I hear a gut-wrenching scream and the sound of intense movement. My eyes grow in horror. I jump to my feet and run from the room. As I cross the grass, legs pumping, I hear the sound I have been dreading, breaking glass, and see the Infected stream round the corner of the building.
Chapter 30
RUN
Run!’ He’s Lincoln at the yells. back of the truck, attempting to unhitch the chain. He seems to be struggling to get it loose, and I beg for him to unhitch it quickly so he can get in. I glance back and see dozens of Infected closing in and more exiting the building. I turn my attention back to the truck. Lincoln is kicking at the tow ball. The chain finally releases, and a sense of relief washes over me. I fling the passenger door open, diving across the seat to land awkwardly on the centre console. I push myself off, spinning towards the open door and closing it shut, just as something hits the back of the truck.
‘Come on Lincoln!’ I plead, yelling towards the open driver’s door.
There is more thumping on the tray. A second later Lincoln jumps in, slamming the door behind him. I hear a tap on my window and turn see a mutated face peering back at me. It snaps its mouth then flicks out its tongue and licks the glass.
The engine revs and I feel the truck begin to edge forward. I scream at Lincoln, ‘Go, go, go!’
Lincoln shifts the stick into second and stomps back down on the accelerator. The truck bucks like a bull. I brace myself against the dashboard as we jerk forward a few times before Lincoln eventually regains control.
The pack thump at the truck until their legs can’t keep up, and we are off and down the highway. I release the air I was holding in my lungs during the whole ordeal, and nudge Lincoln in appreciation. He grunts, attention focused solely on the road ahead. Alive. I’m alive to see another day … I hope.
A few kilometres into the journey we stop at an abandoned service station and fill up. We are both eager to get home and see the others and have decided to leave Lincoln’s truck for another day, but the reason Lincoln stopped during the escape was because he had run out of fuel. If it wasn’t for the small jerry can in ‘the back I may be still trapped, rotting away like a forgotten apple. We need to fill up or we won’t make it back.
The service station is dark and eerie. It feels like someone or something is watching us. A few lights are on inside and there are a couple of abandoned cars parked off to one side. But we can’t see anyone around.
I’m eager to learn about his escape, and he tells me about it while we fill up.
‘How did you know where I was?’ I ask, a little confused.
‘I didn’t. I just ran laps around trying to figure out where they may be holding you. When I saw the blood by the vent I figured an Infected obviously thought something was worth getting to and paid the price. If I hadn’t spotted that blood, I’d still be running around like a headless chook.’
‘They have a le
ader.’ I raise my brow and give him a look.
‘What do you mean?’ Lincoln folds his arms.
I explain about the woman, telling him everything, right up to when we escaped.
‘Holy shit!’ he says, running his hand through his hair. ‘You know this changes everything, right?’
‘I know,’ I say glumly.
‘If they can communicate and work together, they’ll become unstoppable.’
I begin to nod. ‘I know.’
‘Like they—’
‘I know. I get it. We’re screwed.’
Lincoln shakes his head in disbelief. ‘Damn hey … Infected who can communicate with one another.’
I pause for a moment and remember the two guys we left behind. ‘I need to know something Lincoln.’ He turns and eyes me off suspiciously. ‘What was the deal with the two guys?’
His brow creases and I can tell he is hiding something. ‘Um … What do you mean?’
‘You know what I mean. What were they after and why did they think we had it?’
Lincoln’s face turns a shade of pink. His attention drifts away towards the thumping pump.
‘It’s nothing really …’
I reach out and grab his shoulder, turning him towards me so I can look him in the eyes. ‘That shit wasn’t nothing. We almost died.’
‘But we got the panels … And we’re okay.’ he stammers, no longer looking at me.
‘Lincoln, what the fuck did we take? What did you take?’
He slowly draws his eyes back to mine and then towards the rear seat of the truck. ‘Under my green jacket.’
I don’t answer and open the back door, lifting his jacket to find a vacuum sealed bag about the size of a small cushion.
‘You’re fucken kidding me, right?’
‘I found it stored in the container,’ he says, sheepishly. ‘I just thought—’