The Dead Don't Fear

by Shaun Whittington

  “Right, Craig.” Vince nodded at the glass pane of the door. “If I can’t get this thing open with a shoulder barge on three attempts, I want you to put the glass through. That’s our next option. Right?”

  Craig nodded.

  Vince took a couple of steps back and had managed to put the door through on his second attempt.

  “Right, guys.” Vince pointed at the glass cupboards that stretched across the back wall. “Fill your bags. I want out of this creepy arse place in ten minutes.”

  All three bags had been filled in less than twelve minutes, and Craig had to use his hockey stick to shatter the glass of each cabinet to get to the sachets of drugs.

  Vince was the last to fill his bag and could see Stephen and Craig waiting for him by the door.

  The sound of doors crashing were heard behind Vince and he could see the backs of Stephen and Craig. They were running away. With their bags, the two men went through the swing doors that were ahead. A gang of Snatchers could be seen coming through the doors where Vince and his companions had gone through over ten minutes ago.

  Vince grabbed the rucksack with his right hand and ran out of the drugs room and tried to squeeze by the dead and run through the same doors Stephen and Craig had run through. Hands grabbed a hold of the bag Vince was carrying and a tug of war ensued.

  Vince punched two of them, but their numbers were too great and more were coming. Vince went through the only available doors that were safe to go through and staggered through the dark corridor where a dozen of the dead followed. Stephen had the torch and Vince had to risk running by every corner that the corridor had to offer. The overall goal was to reach outside without getting bitten, but at the moment he had no idea where the fuck he was going because of the darkness and the fact that he had never been to this hospital before.

  With his knife in his right hand, Vince had his fingers on the left wall of the corridor and could feel his breathing getting heavier the more nervous he became. He turned a corner, not knowing what was around there and where it would take him, and could see nothing but blackness. The sounds of groaning and shuffling feet could be heard behind him and he knew he had to move.

  They were following him.

  They were slow, but Vince couldn’t afford to stop. He knew the dead were behind him, but what stopped him from running at full pelt was the darkness and the not knowing if there were any danger up ahead.

  He raised his knife and walked into the darkness. He was immune to killing these things, but had never been in a situation like this: in darkness, walking through corridors of a building he had never been to before.

  He selflessly thought about Stephen and Craig and wondered if they were okay, then turned his attention to his own dire predicament. His heart skipped, and the wall could no longer be felt by his fingers as if the wall had disappeared. Another corner.

  He put his hands out and walked as if he was playing blind man’s bluff. He stopped walking once he heard the sound of shoes scraping along the floor. The sound was more of a squeak and the usually cool and wise-cracking Vincent Kindl felt his limbs unusually shaking with fear. He heard another squeak, the sound of a rubber sole rubbing on the floor, and this happened every other second, but the disturbing factor was that the sounds were getting closer.

  Vince waited and waited as the noises grew louder, and released a shriek when a hand touched his. He threw his right arm, like a hook, but his blade swiped at thin air. Another hand touched his face and he could hear the haunting moaning sound of a Snatcher. He right hooked once more and could feel the blade penetrating something. He removed the blade out of, what he believed to be, a Snatcher’s head, and could hear a body drop to the floor. This was a familiar sound to Vince.

  He continued to shuffle and his fingers touched a door. He gave it a push and stepped into an area where his eyes could see his surroundings. He was in a large room and could see a door to the left. The sound of shuffling could still be heard behind him, and now Vince was in a quandary as the same sound could be heard from another door to his right. The door to the left and right were the only ways out of the place, and the door that he was facing was the Maternity Baby Unit.

  He tried the door with his bandaged left hand, or what was left of it, and was surprised it was open. He took the rucksack off and placed it on the floor. He then slid down until his bum touched the floor and had his back against the door, waiting for the following dead to pass the room.

  He heard both swing doors, to the right and the left, open and the cacophony of moaning and dragging feet filled his ears. Vince noticed that there was a large window and thought that if the dead tried to get in to the maternity area, he’d have to go through the window. The only positive thing about that option was that he was still on the ground floor.

  He didn’t want to try the window. If it was locked and there was no way of opening it, and he was seen by the dead, they’d come crashing through the door.

  He had to stay where he was and wait until they passed.

  It was the safest option.

  Chapter Seventeen

  David MacDonald had spent the last hour painting the shed and had now finished with half a tin to spare. He put the brush inside the pot and walked away from the area; he headed towards the building to try and find a guy called Geoff. Geoff had the key to a cupboard where they kept the paint. He was like a janitor or a facilities guy for the place, and could be seen walking round the place and checking windows, fixing furniture, and tightening door hinges.

  After that, David was going to go to the staff room and tell Drake that he was finished and would like another job. Maybe he could persuade him to finally go out on a run.

  David walked the long corridor and turned into his quarters, where he slept, and sat on the bed. He kicked off his shoes and lay down. He was desperate to rest his aching limbs but wasn’t that tired.

  He closed his eyes and his thoughts went to his late parents. He loved his mother, but his father he wasn’t so fond of. At Sandy Lane his father was known as Jimmy Mac, and he didn’t have many friends because of his aggressive attitude. David wasn’t that bothered when he died; he was more upset when the Pilkingtons passed away when they all left together when the place was under attack.

  His eyes popped open when he heard the sound of footsteps walking along the corridor. He looked to the side, remaining on his back, and gulped when he saw Ronnie walk into the area.

  David sat up and sat in the middle of the bed.

  “What do you want?” he asked the intruder.

  “Now that’s not nice, is it?” Ronnie chuckled.

  David looked at the side of Ronnie, past him, to see if he was alone. This made Ronnie look behind him and he asked what David was staring at.

  “I was wondering where your friend was,” David began to explain.

  “He’s had a change of heart,” said Ronnie.

  “A change of heart. I don’t understand.”

  Ronnie took a few steps towards David and said, “He doesn’t want to be involved with this.”

  David narrowed his eyes. “Involved with what?”

  Ronnie gave David a left hook to his ribs, forcing David to the side, and jumped on top of the youngster, pinning him to the bed.

  “Get off me!” David cried.

  “Fucking cunt!”

  “What have I done?” David howled. “I’ve done nothing to you!”

  David tried to cry out once more, but Ronnie had come prepared. He pulled out a sock from his trouser pocket and stuffed it into David’s mouth to shut him up.

  “Already checked the building, you little cunt.” Ronnie snarled and punched the young boy in the midriff. “No one can hear you.”

  Ronnie rained two more blows into David’s stomach and the teenager was struggling to breathe, especially with a sock stuffed in his mouth.

  Ronnie grabbed him by the throat and began to squeeze.

  “Now you listen to me. We don’t like you twats round here. I lost someone
because of your lot.”

  David groaned and began to panic because he couldn’t get his breath, but his muffled pleas were ignored and he was punched again.

  Ronnie continued, “Do us all a favour and kill yourself, you fucking little bastard.”

  Ronnie removed his hands from David’s throat and pulled him off the bed. The youngster hit the hard floor and Ronnie took a swing of his leg and caught David’s testicles.

  Ronnie was out of puff and decided that the youngster had had enough and had got the message.

  He began to walk away and said, “Don’t tell anyone about this. John is my alibi. I was with him the whole time.”

  Ronnie was now nowhere to be seen and David looked around to see he was alone. Curled up like a slug that had been doused in salt, the teenager started crying. It took him fifteen minutes to be able to get to his feet, and even then he had to climb onto the bed. Ronnie had been clever. Every blow that David had received was below the neck. Unless David MacDonald decided to walk around topless, the bruises he received were never going to be seen by anybody else.

  He looked up to the ceiling and touched the places in his body that were smarting. He then broke down once again.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “Well, ‘ere we are.” Pickle approached the barrier and waited for the guard to pull the gate back. “Home sweet home.”

  “For now,” Karen scoffed.

  “That’s a negative attitude yer have there, Bradley.”

  “It’s a realistic one, Harry,” she said with a smirk. “Stile Cop, that place in Heath Hayes, Wolf’s cabin, Vince’s place, Sandy Lane, Colwyn Place, and now this place. I wonder where we’ll be next month.”

  “This place, as yer call it, used to be yer place o’ work.”

  “I know that. Feels like a lifetime ago.”

  “But don’t yer feel that every time we move on, the places we stay get better and better, as far as facilities are concerned?”

  “I dunno.” Karen brushed her hair behind her ears and added, “I thought Sandy Lane was better than Colwyn Place. Although maybe it was a bit too big, a bit too ambitious by Lee James.”

  Pickle pulled the pickup outside the reception area and told Karen, “I’ll go and get Drake. Show him what we’ve brought back.”

  “Fine.” She remained in the passenger seat, wound the window down on her side and told Pickle she was exhausted and wanted a moment to herself.

  She leaned her head back and closed her eyes, enjoying the stray breezes that snuck into the vehicle and caressed her face. Her thoughts went back to the moment she had left her work for the last time to when she arrived at her home at Draycott Park and seeing her fitness fanatic neighbour Sharon Henderson being attacked by a Snatcher. Although at the time Karen thought it was a drunk that had spoiled Sharon’s Sunday morning run before it even started.

  She couldn’t continue with her reminiscing for much longer as she felt a presence standing next to her. She slowly opened her eyes and turned her head. She could see a familiar tall male standing next to her. He was dressed all in black and was holding a baseball bat.

  “Hi, gorgeous,” he said with a smile. “How’s it going?”

  Karen sat up and although this character, Findlay Sterling, was a good looking man, the last thing she was thinking about, after losing her fiancée over three months ago and losing his baby, was bedding somebody else.

  “How’s it going?” Karen snickered and shook her head. “Did that ever work in the old world?”

  “Doesn’t matter what the line is,” Findlay said with a beam. “If you’re attracted and interested in the person, the line doesn’t matter.”

  “I’m sure you were trying to chat up Joanne the other day.”

  “I wasn’t.”

  “Oh, please.” Karen laughed. “It’s the apocalypse and you’re a man. You’d stick it in a dog if there was one available. Jesus, it’s bad enough Small Chris leering after me. And now you.”

  “You can’t compare me to that guy.” Findlay was taken aback by Karen’s remark and looked insulted.

  She said, “I suppose: Hi, gorgeous. How’s it going? is better than: Is there a mirror in your pants because I can see myself in them.”

  “Who the hell would come up with that?” Findlay placed his hand on the frame of the window and was a little too close for Karen’s liking.

  “A guy I arrived with called Vince.”

  Findlay nodded. “I’ve spoken to him a few times. He’s a bit weird.”

  “My love for you is like diarrhoea because I can’t hold it in is probably his worst line ever, but he’s alright when you get to know him.”

  “How are you settling in?” Findlay asked her.

  “Okay.” Karen nodded and added, “It’s weird, but these days I’m used to … weird.”

  “Well, if ever you get lost—”

  “I know my way about,” Karen laughed. “I used to work here. I’m a Grade D Staff Nurse. Or I was. I used to work in the Accident and Emergency department.”

  “No shit.” Findlay looked surprised.

  “No shit indeed. That’s what I meant by weird.”

  There was a silence between the two, and Karen was enjoying watching the man squirm and could see him racking his brains, trying to think of something to say to keep the conversation going.

  Findlay stood up straight and took the hint that Karen wasn’t in the mood.

  “Anyway,” he said. “I better get back to my post, otherwise Drake will tear me a new one.”

  “Yep. We need big strong brave men like you to keep us safe, especially us women.”

  A smile developed under Findlay’s nose and he said, “Really?”

  “No, I was just mocking you.”

  “Think you’re funny then?”

  Karen nodded and kept her face straight. “Now and again.”

  “Do you have a boyfriend?”

  He was persistent and he was beginning to get on Karen’s nerves.

  “I had a fiancée. But he’s now dead.”

  “Well,” he continued and cleared his throat, looking sheepish about what he was going to say next. “If ever you get lonely, I stay on Ward Three.”

  “Well, thanks.” Karen giggled and said, “But I have a teddy.” She then held up her two fingers and added, “And these do the job just fine.”

  “Um…” Findlay was struggling to respond.

  Karen smiled at the young man and then said, “I’ll be seeing you.”

  He opened his mouth to speak, but he had lost his train of thought.

  He walked away from the pickup with despondent feet and went back over to the barrier.

  “Jeez.” Karen lowered her head and rubbed her forehead with her right hand. “Men. Bloody animals. They spend nine months trying to get out of a vagina, and the rest of their lives trying to get back in.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  It seemed to have taken an age for the sound of clumsy feet to die down, and once it did, Vince got to his knees and slowly raised his head to peer out of the glass and look out onto the corridor. The dusky corridor showed no signs of the dead, and it appeared that finally the herd had gone elsewhere.

  “Thank Christ for that.”

  He sat back down on his bottom and dropped his head. He had had a few close shaves in the past, but that one was in the top three of the most frightening episodes he had ever had. Being in the dark only heightened the tension, and the not knowing what was around him had made the almost-fearless man into a bag of nerves.

  The attack on his caravan park and Sandy Lane were probably more frightening than what he had just experienced, but that was only because of the people that had died during those two incidents.

  He remained sitting and looked around the room he was in. He looked at the signage and realised he was in a baby unit. He then thought about Stephen and Craig and wondered if they had made it. The two of them running away, and leaving him to fend for himself, didn’t bother Vince.

  The
y had to run.

  There were too many of the dead to fight, and fleeing like that had saved their lives.

  He struggled to get to his feet and could hear both knees crack in unison as he stood up straight. “Old fart,” he moaned. The rucksack was still on his back, and he tried to take a look around in the dim room.

  His disbelieving eyes witnessed something he had never witnessed before since this had started. The distraction of the horde had now gone, and Vince Kindl focused on a horrendous sight that was new to this veteran of the apocalypse.

  There were six incubators. Three were empty, two had been forced open and was covered in old blood and human parts, and the one that struck Vince was the almost skeletal infant in the nearest incubator to him. Vince didn’t know if the three empty incubators were empty at the beginning of the apocalypse. Maybe their parents had removed them themselves when it all kicked off. Or maybe they were empty anyway. The other two incubators, the ones that were in a mess, had been attacked and it looked like the dead had got in somehow and had devoured the two helpless babies that were now unrecognisable.

  He looked behind him and could see that the baby unit door had a keypad on the door, and it must have been defunct once the power had died.

  The one with the almost skeletal baby was obvious to Vince. The poor soul had been abandoned and had starved to death. Vince shook his head and could feel his eyes fill. He couldn’t help think that the poor infant would have been better to receive the same death as the other two. At least it would have been quick, kind of, rather than to starve to death and spend its poor, short life crying and screaming for its belly to be filled.

  Vince placed his hands on the incubator and gazed down on the little soul. “God bless you, little one.”

  He walked away and checked his pocket for his knife, then walked over to the large window. He could see the van and created a tiny smile when he saw Stephen and Craig standing outside it. They had made it.

  Vince opened the window, and took a look behind him, looking at the horrific carnage once more. He wiped his damp eyes, and climbed through the window.