Aftermath (Book 1): Only The Head Will Take Them Down

by Duncan McArdle

  “We’re good!”, John yelled to Donald, who had watched the move with every ounce of attention he could muster, knowing he would shortly have to repeat it.

  “Then get up there!”, Donald replied, keen to get John up to the next floor so he himself could also escape the room, his own eyes darting back to the door, only to see more and more biters forcing their various limbs through the missing window.

  John meanwhile began quickly climbing up, his footing only relatively stable, but the pipe itself getting hotter and hotter the longer he held onto it.

  “John we got a problem down here!”, Donald yelled as the door began to prise open, giving in to the huge force generated by the crushing stampede that lay behind it, “They’re coming!”, he yelled upwards hopelessly.

  The first few were no threat, most had been in a deadly crush for the past few minutes, and so as the doors hinges finally gave way, they fell quickly to the floor in a heap. Those behind them though were a different story, their first meal in what had probably been months now coming into sight, and from just a few metres away at that. It seemed almost like they had been saving their energy for this very moment, each using every ounce of it to propel themselves towards the window.

  “Shiiiiiit!”, Donald yelled as the biters made it half way across the room, a point that he knew marked the time where he simply had to run for it.

  John knew exactly what had happened without even looking. He heard the bang of the door falling down, the stampede of new feet pounding against the floor inside the room, and of course, the yells of his companion. What he noticed more than anything though, was the worrying sound of creaking emitted by the structure he was currently held to, a noise he knew meant that Donald had been forced to join him on the pipe, despite both men knowing it was unlikely it would take their weight. There was nothing else for it, John had to get off, and so he jumped for the nearby window, much sooner than he would have liked to have done, but no later than he could afford to wait.

  Donald looked up just in time to see the procedure, his companion swinging to the left and then propelling himself to the right. His hands stretched out towards the lower ledge of the fifth floor window, as his feet pushed hard off of the pipe to give him whatever final piece of momentum they could find, just as the first biter arrived at the window below, grasping outwards for the human flesh it had so recently caught sight of. Back above, John dangled helplessly from the upper floor, the relief of making yet another daring manoeuvre just setting in, only to be cut short by the worrying sight of a closed pane of glass above. Thankfully for John however, his companion was way ahead of him, carefully withdrawing his M4 and taking aim at the window above one handed. The thin sheet of single glazed glass no match for the roar of the rifle, a noise that shattered the night air and engulfed John’s ears, deafening him for several seconds.

  John clenched up drastically, looking away from the newly smashed window just in time to feel numerous shards of glass rain down on both himself and Donald, as well as the distant floor below. After a few seconds though, John could once again look up, this time at the now empty entrance to the floor above, which he promptly pulled himself up towards. As he did, he prepared for what might be inside, the thought of a similar horde of biters as the floor below crossing his mind, amongst other things. To his relief however, he saw nothing, and was instead greeted with an incredibly dark room that appeared to have once been a relatively typical office space.

  Back below, Donald awkwardly slotted his M4 back into the straps of his backpack, and began making his way up the pipe, the sight of his companion breaching the floor above enough to spur him on with a sudden burst of energy. Just below him however, a single arm lunged out of the window, grabbing enough of Donald’s foot to throw him completely off balance, his entire body swinging to the left side of the pipe, mercifully freeing it of the tight grasp as it did. He kicked out violently with his right foot, desperately attempting to keep the biters away and allow him to get a foothold once more, but there were too many, and he was too exposed to fight back, he had to climb up. Grabbing furiously at the pipe above, Donald slowly pulled himself upwards, inch by inch, his feet dangling pointlessly below, unable to latch onto the pipe and help push him up. When he was eventually far enough away from the many hands now extended out below however, he managed a single good grip on the pipe once more, and used the force of his now usable feet to quickly propel himself upwards.

  Above, John flicked the flashlight of his shotgun back on, just in time to see a single biter hunched over in the corner of the room, seemingly deceased, and well into the beginning stages of decomposition. This was no time for chances though, so John shifted the shotgun to his left hand, and withdrew his knife, moving quickly to the still creature, and plunging his blade deep into the centre of its skull. To some this might have seemed like an overly violent act, but the sight of a final gasp of life escaping from its deadened face told John that he’d been right to be cautious.

  Quickly John rushed back to the window to assist his companion’s awkward entrance.

  “Gimme’ your hand!”, he yelled at Donald, who was now parallel with the open window.

  “Here goes!”, replied Donald, who held out a hand, before lunging towards the window once John had a firm grip.

  Donald dangled for a moment, at complete mercy of John and his next decision, a moment which John used to ponder the possibility of forcing the location of his family out of Donald. But John was an honest man, and he liked to do things fairly, so he instead opted to slowly pull him up, his reasonably heavy weight cascading through the open window at the first chance it got, knocking both men onto the ground, each panting heavily at the physical exertion they’d just been through.

  This was no time for rest though, and so both men got quickly to their feet, briefly surveyed the office, and then moved to the door leading back into the hallway.

  “Ready for this?”, John asked as he placed his hand onto the handle.

  “Ready as I’ll ever be, replied Donald who swiftly raised his M4, having withdrawn it from his rucksack once more.

  John swung the door open, himself raising his Remington ready for whatever lay on the other side, and quickly firing off a round into the head of one biter who stood particularly close to the window. The shell exploded with an almighty force, propelling numerous shards of metal deep into the biters skull, shoving it several feet across the room into a crumpled pile.

  Donald meanwhile took aim at another creature, this time a few metres from the doorway and off to the left, squeezing off a well-aimed shot and dropping the target instantly, before turning to another nearby biter and repeating the process. John couldn’t help but admire his companion’s aim, the sounds of two dropping bodies off to his left all he needed to know he had achieved his objective. After surveying the hallway for a few moments, he glanced to Donald for final confirmation, before moving out into the corridor.

  The hallway was pleasantly clear, the three previous occupants now dealt with, and no sight of any more coming from the areas in front, so John quickly began leading across the empty space.

  “Where do we go?”, asked Donald, very aware that the stairway below was blocked, both by a barricade and, most likely, numerous walking corpses.

  “We move to the other side, should be another stairwell”, John replied, knowing that it would have been a fire precaution the hospital had to follow.

  “But it was blocked on the ground?”, Donald replied, thinking back to the numerous barred doors they had tried in vain to enter on the ground floor.

  “Best chance we’ve got”, John replied, a faint silhouette ahead evidence that the fire to their rear had reached their floors exterior, just as he turned a corner and began walking towards the Northern stairwell.

  As they arrived – the smell of smoke becoming increasingly poignant – the pair assumed their usual siege position before barging open the door, each scanning the stairwell with their weapons, seeking out anything of concer
n. To their relief, the stairwell was free from biters, but was filling quickly with smoke from the lower floors, an additional reduction in visibility that neither man was happy to see.

  “What are we doing here John?”, Donald asked as John began descending the stairs.

  “We head down to the lowest possible floor, head to the East side where we came in, and climb out a window”, John explained.

  “What if that floors on fire, or overrun?”, Donald replied.

  “Well it’s definitely overrun, or it wouldn’t have been barred shut. As for fire, we’ll just have to wait and see”, John answered as he hurriedly jumped down several steps at a time, keen to exit the building as quickly as possible.

  Rounding the final set of stairs, the two were immediately met by an unwelcome sound from below, the sound of an intense movement of energy, almost explosion-like, as the ground floor door blew open from the immense pressure that had built up behind it.

  “Jesus!”, John yelled as the two ducked for cover, just in time to see flames lunge out of the now open doorway.

  “Now what?”, Donald asked.

  “That last floor, go!”, John replied, pointing back to the door they had just passed.

  Moving swiftly towards it and kicking his way through – now more interested in not burning to death than worrying about the noise he made to attract biters – Donald quickly made his way into the first floor hallway, the ground beneath feeling hotter and hotter every second longer they spent in the building.

  “On your left!”, John yelled as Donald ran for the nearest door.

  Turning to his left, Donald saw the outline of a biter stumbling towards him from the shadows, the figure quickly falling flat on its face, probably from exhaustion. Biters were less of a threat now, what small amount of breathing they had been able to do in death, they certainly couldn’t do very easily now, in an environment where both Donald and John were struggling to get enough clean air themselves.

  “In here”, Donald said, swinging open the nearest door, which itself lead into a small office, complete most importantly, with a window.

  John followed close behind, picking up an office chair as he entered and throwing it as hard as he could manage, clean through the large square window, the flames from below just narrowly visible past its wooden frame.

  “Go!”, Donald instructed to John, adamant that John test the fall first, rather than risk it himself.

  Climbing onto the frame, John inspected the landing area briefly, a small area of grass just to the left of the window, a good ten feet below him.

  “Hurry up!”, came Donald’s voice from behind.

  John leapt, clean out the window, sailing through the air towards the grass, the fire below nipping at his heels as he dropped, and the wooden window ledge creaking heavily behind him from the pressure he had applied in order to jump. But it was worth it, as his feet found the grass perfectly, cushioning – if only slightly – his fall, and cooling John’s body instantly as it adjusted from the scorching, flame fuelled smoke inside the building to the cool night air that now surrounded him.

  There was no time for pausing though, as no sooner had John stood up and turned did he see the figure of his companion also leap from the window, this time snapping the ledge completely, causing him to fall much shorter than he had intended.

  “Arrghhh!”, he cried out as he landed heavily on the solid concrete below the window, a surface that provided no cushioning whatsoever, and caused Donald to immediately begin clutching his right ankle.

  “You alright?”, John asked running over, putting his arm under Donald and helping him to his feet, each of the men keeping low to avoid the swirling flames above them.

  “Think I wrecked my ankle, but I’m fine, let’s just get the hell out of here!”, Donald replied, as the pair limped towards the Hilux.

  John helped push Donald into the passenger seat, before throwing the weapons and backpacks into the rear of the truck and preparing to commandeer the Toyota, himself climbing in just in time to see the flames fully engulf the second floor of the building to their left. So close had they been to getting caught in the blaze that it almost seemed rewarding to see it go up now, the vast number of biters inside no longer a problem for anyone, and the trap that was the Eau Claire hospital now unable to lure future survivors into its treacherous grasp.

  Chapter 20: Diversion Ahead

  “Where are you going?”, Donald asked, clutching his ankle.

  “Any way that isn’t their way”, John replied, nodding his head towards the direction the attackers had made off in, before putting his foot to the floor and driving further into the inner city.

  “See if you can loop back round to the highway we came in on, maybe further over to the East”, advised Donald, trying hard to keep them on track without giving away their destination.

  “Got it”, John replied, his attention split between the words of his guide, and the signs directing him to various areas of a city he’d neither been to nor heard of before.

  After numerous guessed turns, John eventually caught sight of a sign to the local dam, a part of the city he knew from earlier signposts to be further along the highway they had entered on. With that in mind, he began following the directions, hoping and praying it would lead back to the original stretch of the I94. As he drove, he couldn’t help but look out for signs of their recent attackers coming back for another attempt, or indeed for signs of any other creatures likely to further complicate their day. Thankfully however the roads were relatively clear, save for the odd few undead stragglers crawling or stumbling along the various side alleys that littered the inner city. John figured most of the biters in the area were probably long since starved, escaping the cities having been most people’s first priority, leaving the creatures with little to live off.

  Driving on though, John eventually laid eyes on a biter with a difference. Like the others, it stumbled aimlessly through the streets, spinning slowly to inspect the truck as it drove closer, before mounting a feeble attack in the vague direction of the pair once it sensed their presence. What made it different however was its attire, a full US military uniform, complete with tactical vest, helmet, and remarkably, a standard issue M4A1 slung around his back. Noting this, John slowed the car to a stop, and began to disembark.

  “Wait here”, John instructed as he got out, closing the door behind him, the engine left running for a quick escape.

  “What are you doing?”, Donald said quietly to himself, feeling that it somehow made more sense to vocalise his question – even if only he could hear it – rather than say nothing at all.

  His concern was more than valid, the weapon was clearly beyond reliable use, its barrel bent and visibly stuffed with dirt and stones most likely accumulated from its owner’s dead corpse having numerous stumbles. But John approached undeterred, his left hand firmly grasping the huge hunting knife and his right wielding the Ruger, as he neared the latest enemy. At this point, his target was exerting every last piece of energy left in its cold, lifeless body, to walk at a not-quite-human speed towards John, arms outstretched in front with its hands grabbing at the air, and its teeth clamping down violently every second, like clockwork.

  As the target neared, John’s left arm recoiled to his right, bringing the blade alongside his shoulder, before swinging horizontally towards the creature, the sharpened blade piercing the side of its skull like it was nothing more than paper. The serrated edges following close behind, tearing apart whatever dead brain tissue remained inside, and further increasing the now gaping slit in the side of its head. It was a direct hit, and one he was quietly proud of, a small smile creeping across his face as he watched the biter fall limply to the ground. John took no pleasure in ending the life of a living being, but these things were not living, and if anything, giving it the final step towards true death was perhaps the most merciful thing he could have done.

  Donald watched as John knelt over the body, untangling its pile of limbs to remove the M4
from its body. Donald could only sit and shake his head at his companion’s ridiculous actions to retrieve the clearly useless weapon. But as he watched, to his surprise, he saw John toss the weapon aside, having disengaged it from its carrying sling, and instead place the length of nylon that had attached it to the body into a back pocket. Going down on the body once more, John continued to remove a series of other smaller items, as well as the soldier’s tactical vest, before eventually walking back over to the truck. After taking view of the area around them – surveying it for threats one last time – John climbed back into the truck, confident that they were safe, if only for a moment.

  “So you don’t deafen me again anytime soon”, John said as he climbed into the driver’s seat, his hand holding out the holstered pistol he had just removed from the body.

  “Not bad!”, Donald replied smiling, taking the pistol from John, “Always had a soft spot for Beretta’s”, he added as he removed the M9 from its holster, before recoiling slightly from the still throbbing pain in his ankle.

  “Got something for that too”, John said as he detached the medical pouch from the soldiers vest, “Must be something in there you can make use of”.

  “Here’s hopin’”, Donald replied, happily pulling out a bandage kit, before briefly continuing his search, only to eventually come up empty handed. “No pills though”, he added, clearly disappointed.

  “I got something better”, John said as he detached another pocket from the vest, throwing it to Donald before tossing the blood soaked and torn vest out of the window.