Waiting to Die ~ A Zombie Novel

by Cochran, Richard M.

  “That goes to the basement,” Johnny shakes his head. “The only thing down there is a furnace and...” he looks up as a thought arises.

  “And what?” Aprils asks.

  “And a manhole that leads to the sewers,” Johnny states, rising to his feet. “Let's go.”

  Skipping stairs, Johnny runs down into the darkness, slowing as the dim light fades from the upper windows. Moving to the far end of the landing, he feels for the door. The protrusion juts out above hip level, and he cradles the knob in the palm of his hand. Smooth metal greets his skin, cool to the touch and warms slightly as he caresses it. Holding his breath, he begins to turn the mechanism, waiting for the inevitable clicking sound that comes when the fastener has retreated to the inner workings of the door. With an exhale, he pushes the door inward. A damp mildew smell hits his senses with a hint of oil from the old furnace beneath the surface. There’s nothing but darkness as he steps over the threshold.

  Fumbling through his pack, he searches for his flashlight. A faint shuffling ensues as he grasps for the object. He turns the end of the light until the telltale glow emits from the working end, blanketing the hallway before him in a yellow radiance.

  Turning the light towards April at an angle and away from her face, he says, “Don't follow too closely. We might have to run.” He peers down at her foot and asks, “How is it?”

  “I think it is better, but it’s still a little sore.” She moves her ankle and twists her foot in a circular motion, showing him that it still works. “I think I'll be alright.”

  “I'm sorry about earlier.” Johnny glances off to the side, ashamed. “I didn't mean that you were a liability.”

  “I know. I was being stupid.” April looks his eyes when he finally looks up. “I know you would never leave me.”

  He smiles at her and turns back towards the hallway, shining the light to and fro along the tight, narrow passage. He lets out a breath of determination and tries to steady himself as he watches the beam of light nervously twitch across the walls from the unsteadiness of his hand. Pushing forward, he suddenly stops.

  “Here, you take it.” He hands April the light. “Shine it ahead of me. If anything comes out, I want to be ready for it.” He pulls the pry bar from his pack and wields it out in front of him, glancing around nervously.

  April takes the light and angles it over his shoulder. Her grasp is steady, but she can still see the beam jostle with every beat of her heart. She feels like she has walked into a haunted house, nervously waiting for a monster to pop out. With every movement Johnny makes in front of her, an echo of scraping dirt beneath his feet sounds out in the dank silence. Between the sounds, she swears that she can hear something else, faint like breathing, malicious below his footfalls, coming closer in the darkness.

  Placing her hand on Johnny's shoulder, she motions for him to wait. She places her index finger over her mouth, telling him to stay quiet.

  Drip... drip... drip.

  An echo of water leaking from some unseen pipe inundates their senses as they wait in silence.

  Shrugging his shoulders, Johnny looks at April, questioningly.

  “I thought I heard something,” she whispers in response.

  The pair turn back, greeted a shrill howl as a decayed face snarls out a cry that sends the pair recoiling from fear. Erratically, the beam from the flashlight sways as Johnny lashes out, swinging the pry bar at the corpses face. Its head turns slightly from the impact before it screams again and launches itself forward.

  Thrown to the floor, the corpse struggles with its mouth wide, thickened streams of fluid cling to its teeth through open maw as it strains to get up. Gas escapes through on open, rotting wound at the creature’s throat, bubbling up puss and mucus as Johnny holds it down with his foot. The milky white of its eyes turn a shade of blackened red as the pry bar enters its cranium, splitting the monsters skull in two. An almost indescribable smell wafts up from the opening in its head like iron and sewage struggling for dominance over an already rancid odor.

  Johnny turns and gags, letting loose a torrent of empty bile from his already cavernous stomach. He lurches in on himself, guts twisting as the muscles of his abdomen wrench out the digestive fluids and he quakes with convulsions. He begins to breathe through his mouth, taking in large gulps of air as April holds him from behind, rubbing his back. Through his mouth, he can taste the stench, feel it lingering in his lungs like the residue of a garbage can. Tears grace his eyes, and he wipes them away along with the snot that has formed on his upper lip.

  Kicking at the lifeless corpse with his boot, Johnny unleashes a few straggling insects that dislodge from the rot along the creatures neck.

  “Let's get out of here,” April urges, tugging him by his shirt sleeve.

  Johnny pauses, looking again at the corpse, “Oh my god,” he says as the blood rushes from his face, turning him white with shock.

  April stops and turns toward him. “What’s wrong?” she asks.

  In horror, Johnny stares at the name tag on the cadaver’s uniform, “That's Mike.” He places his hand over his mouth in memory of what this bundle of cloth and decay once was.

  “That’s Mike?” April asks, hovering over the remains.

  “Yeah, from the apartment,” Johnny begins. “He’s the one that showed me the sewer grate back when I worked here. I used to come down here and smoke with him on my breaks.

  She looks at the corpse, knowingly, “Baby, we have to go.”

  “Yeah, okay,” Johnny replies. In many ways, it would have been better if he didn’t know what had happened to him. He would have liked to remember Mike the way he was and not for what he became. He looks back a final time before moving around April to take the lead.

  Pipes line the walls and ceiling of the passage, intersecting and crossing each other at elbows, jutting off in every possible direction as April angles the light in front of her. Deep shadows contour and conflict with one another with every step she takes, arching macabre silhouettes along the floor.

  “It should be right around the next corner,” Johnny states, pointing ahead into the darkness.

  April directs the flashlight to as far as the light will shine once they’ve made the next corner. A few yards away, there is a dead end, blocked by a series of conduits that lead vertically into the ceiling.

  “What are you talking about,” April asks, “That's a dead end.”

  Johnny holds her hand, angling the light downward towards the floor where it rests on a sewer cap that is barely visible through all of the dust that covers it.

  “We're going through there?” April asks, raising her eyebrow at the suggestion.

  In the darkness, Johnny misses her expression and replies, “It probably hasn't been opened in a while, but it'll work.”

  Wedging the pry bar into a groove at the edge of the sewer cap, Johnny lifts the metal plate and sinks the bar under while he gains some leverage with his fingers. “Give me a hand,” he says, grunting.

  April places the light on the floor beside the plate and begins to tug at the cap. Once they have cleared it from the floor by a few inches, Johnny tucks his fingers under the plate and pulls it away to the side.

  A pitch black hole greets them as the light levels off along the floor. Picking up the flashlight, Johnny points it down into the hole, arching the beam around the edges. Several bars protrude from one side of the hole, forming steps that lead down into the darkness.

  “I'll go first,” Johnny explains. “Shine the light down for me. When I get to the bottom, throw the flashlight down, and I'll guide you the rest of the way.”

  “I don't want to be left alone up here, Johnny.”

  “Then I'll have to make it quick,” he replies.

  “Jerk,” April smiles at him.

  Every footfall Johnny makes as he descends the ladder sends a hollow clank back up the shaft where April waits patiently. With a splash, stale water greets his arrival. He sloshes around for a moment and looks up into the l
ight. “Your turn,” he says.

  “All right, I'm going to drop the light. Are you ready?” April asks.

  “Yeah, let it go,” Johnny's voice echoes in response.

  End over end, the flashlight falls, sending circular beams off in rotation as it descends. Hitting Johnny's hand hard, the light bounces, tilts and finally drops with splash into the sewage. The flashlight flickers several times as Johnny reaches into the muck before it finally dims and dies.

  “That's just great,” Johnny sighs.

  “Now what?” April asks with a hint of irritation.

  “Okay, you can do this,” Johnny explains. “Just lower one leg down and feel around for the first step.”

  “You've got to be kidding me,” she asks.

  “It's either that, or I come back up and we’re back to where we started,” Johnny reasons with her. “I'll catch you if you fall. It is only ten feet or so to the bottom.”

  “Tell that to the flashlight,” April answers.

  “Funny,” Johnny says, letting her joke pass. “Now poke around with your foot until you feel the first bar.”

  Extending her leg into the hole, April immediately feels the first step and supports her weight while bringing her other leg down, scraping her pants on the dirty floor adjacent to the sewer. Foot by painstaking foot, she lowers herself into the sewer as Johnny stands at the base with his arms outstretched above his head. She feels him at her waist, guiding her down until she can feel water begin to soak her shoes.

  “I can't see a thing,” she says as she blindly reaches outward, searching for the wall.

  “Here,” Johnny replies, placing her hand at his waist and tucking her fingers in around a belt loop on his pants. “Don't let go.”

  Every movement they make is followed by a reverberating splash of water, echoing throughout the sewer, returning to their ears as the sound becomes faint and trails off behind them.

  “How will we know where we’re going?” April asks.

  “I have some matches in my pack,” Johnny replies.

  After a series of shuffling and a long ripping sound, April hears something rip and then the strike of a match. With a whoosh, a flame ignites before her. Upon the pry bar, Johnny wraps a scrap of fabric from his shirt around the end. “It won't last long, but maybe we can find a way out before it dies,” he says. “You’ve got to love waterproof matches.” He smiles through the flickering light as he guides it with his outstretched arm.

  A hollow groan fills the air like the sound of a pipe being slowly bent.

  “Did you hear that?” April whispers.

  “It's probably the building settling,” Johnny quietly remarks.

  “Haaaaa...” a throaty hiss ensues like air being released from a tire.

  “But I sure as fuck heard that!” he stops in his tracks and listens intently, cocking his head.

  Silence ensues, deafening as it drops over them, canceling out all of their other senses. April tugs on Johnny's belt loop and presses tightly against him.

  “It was probably nothing,” Johnny whispers. “Like I said, it was probably just the...”

  The dead scatter out from around a hidden corner. In the dim torch light, only their outlines can be seen. Bent, twisted forms, lurching closer to the couple in between rasping moans and shrill howls. Gathering like a pack of wolves, the horde moves in, collecting with one another to form a singular mass.

  “Stay behind me!” Johnny screams out the order like a curse, pushing April back behind him.

  Swinging wildly, the pry bar makes contact with the first creature that arrives. With a faint whoosh, the ghoul ignites as its nose concaves. Flailing its arms, it reaches out. Another creature shambles forward and snatches Johnny's arm.

  “Run!”

  Darkness blurs April’s way.

  Blindly, she backs up, turns and begins to run. The torch is dropped and snuffed out by the murky remains of the sewer. She races back toward the ladder access, her heart pounding when she hears a series of grunts that she is sure are coming from Johnny as he fights the dead.

  “Ah!” Johnny screams, but his voice is suddenly cut off.

  Rancid slop splashes up from the sewage beneath her feet as April desperately tries to find her way. She guides herself along the tunnel, dragging her hand against the rough surface of the wall. Between her heavy panting, she can hear what sounds like the tearing of wet leather. She can almost see Johnny being ripped apart as she runs faster. The feeding dead create noises that mingle and meld into slapping wetness and horrendous popping sounds, reverberating throughout the tunnel as April quickens her pace, fleeing frantically.

  Feeling along the concrete wall, April follows it as it veers off to the left. Eventually, the slop beneath her feet lessens, giving way to firmer ground as the noises of the dead subside behind her. She can't tell how long she has been running, nor the distance she's went, but up ahead, she can see the faintest glimmer of light. Exhausted, she forces herself forward, becoming weaker with every step.

  A rush of sunlight envelopes her as she encounters a large grate at the end of the tunnel. Pushing with her shoulder, she wrenches at the obstruction, pushing with all her weight as the sound of rusty hinges squeak in retaliation. As the gate opens fully, the hinges give, snapping from age, sending it plummeting into the canal where it is swallowed by the murky water below.

  The ocean spreads out on either side of the sewage outlet. White, sandy beaches wind their way along the coastline in both directions as she takes her first step into freedom. The salt air plays at her nose, tickling it ever so slightly from the onshore breeze, blowing out the stagnant fumes of sewage that waft up from below. Pausing for a moment, she looks back into the tunnel before trailing down the side of the concrete approach that leads to the beach.

  As she makes her way along the shoreline, April stops again, looking back to the sewer, hoping to see Johnny standing there, praying that he has somehow survived. She turns away from the empty drainpipe and lowers her head in sorrow as her feet sink into the velvety sand. The realization that he is gone sinks in, weighing heavily on her heart. Sadness wells up in her throat, rising from her chest as she begins to sob.

  Looking towards the mainland through blurry eyes, she begins to make her way to the streets that lead to the apartment that she had shared with Johnny. His memory is fresh in her mind, freeing the guilt that builds in her consciousness, the terrible feeling she endures from having left him there alone to defend himself. She can hear his voice as clearly as if he were standing there before her, 'We either survive, or we wait here to die.'

  ·13

  The gate clanks shut as Emma closes it behind her. Over the sound, the surf batters the dock, licking against the shore and surging back out with the tide. When she looks toward the ocean, she can almost imagine being out there with her grandfather, she can see the fish they will catch and the other people they will encounter on their adventure, those who have also fled the land. She takes a deep breath of salt air and dreams of what it will be like when there aren’t any more of the dead to deal with, no more sounds of rasping cries and disturbing moans to awaken her in the night. She smiles to herself as her grandfather cries out.

  Ahead, he is jerked to the ground by a corpse, black with slime that covers it from head to toe. Emma backs away until she realizes she is the only one who can help him. The skinless abomination tilts and twists its head as it tries to bite at the old man. Wet, fluid snarls gnash out as the creature presses its weight downward. Emma lifts her rifle, but the swaying corpse eludes her shot. She changes her grasp on the rifle and wealds it like a club. Over her head in a stretching arch, the child brings the butt of the rifle down onto the back of the monster’s head with a loud thwack.

  The corpse reels from the impact and falls to its side as other bodies converge on the dock.

  “Shoot it!” Jacob yells.

  With eyes wide in a look of panic, Emma swings the rifle over and loads it with a steady click. As the corpse sta
ggers to its knees, the girl pulls the trigger and a faint pop ensues. The creature snarls away the hole that appears on its cheek and stands fully, wavering drunken and sickly. Again, she reloads the weapon and exhales as she fires, sending a clean round into the ghoul’s left temple. Its face falls slack and it falls over backward into the sand along the side of the dock.

  Emma reloads once more as several other bodies shuffle closer, attracted to the commotion. She aims, reloads and aims again until four bodies fall in time with her shots.

  “Hurry, we have to go,” Jacobs says as he stands, pistol drawn. He pulls the cart behind him with his free hand, making it wobble off balance as he scurries away from the dead.

  More of the dead are alerted to their presence as the pair makes their way along the walkway. Dead eyes home in as the cart bounces from side to side, unsteady from the speed with which it is being pulled.

  “There’re going to be too many of them,” Jacob coughs. “We’ll never make it inside the house.” His breath is labored as he hobbles. He favors his leg with a stiff limp, dragging it behind every few steps. “Make a left on the next street,” he says, “and we’ll try to lose them.”

  Emma does as instructed and cuts the next corner, staying close to the low lying block wall that surrounds a salt stained beach house. In the yard, a body - nothing more than a torso and arms - drags itself along on bloody stumps, on fingers ground to the bone and oozing thick black liquid. She backs away and turns to sprint when she sees the creature. She takes to the center of the street to follow her grandfather, cautiously looking over her shoulder as the dead home in.

  As the pair zigzags over cracked asphalt, a horde of misshapen death converges and follows. Hundreds strong, the mob chants with dripping voices, saturated in lustful want as they shamble close behind. The predatory calls summon others as the crowd grows, collecting others in their wake.

  “Take the cart,” Jacob says. “I have a plan.”

  Emma shoulders her rifle and grabs hold of the cart, not letting it slow as she transfers to pulling it along the street. The dead are falling behind as she maneuvers around the next corner and her grandfather pulls a bottle from the back of the cart.