The Living & The Dead (Book 1): Zombiegrad

by Hasanov, Oleg

  “God damn it!” Goran said.

  “We got to go back to the hotel,” Andy said.

  “We’ll split,” Goran said. “Three of us will get Stas back to the hotel, and four are going to find the medicine.”

  “No, no, guys,” Andy said. “We can’t split. We must stay together.”

  The avalanche of the cannibal creatures was advancing at them.

  “I’m afraid we got no other choice,” Goran said. “The people need that medicine. Give it another day and everyone will be down with the flu at the hotel. Some of them need special medication.”

  Steve overturned his cart, letting his firearms fall on the pavement. Then he took an advertisement signboard, which sat on the ground, and put it flat on top of the cart. Gleb took the hint and spread his khaki jacket on the board. He tied the sleeves under the cart to secure the board in place.

  As they put Stas on these ad hoc stretchers, his body started shaking violently.

  “He’s going into a shock!” Marcel said. “Help me to take my jacket off. I can’t do it myself. My hands are busy. We must cover him to keep him warm.”

  Gleb took off Marcel’s jacket and covered Stas with it. Andy took off his coat, too.

  “Raise his feet,” Erkan said. “Keep his feet up.”

  They placed the young man’s feet on the cart handle. Stas grimaced with pain.

  Andy said, “Okay. Let’s move. Let’s not waste another second.”

  “I’m going to the drugstore,” Steve said. “Rams, you with me?”

  “Sure.”

  “Good,” Steve said. He shouldered his backpack, grabbed one rifle from the pile and packed his jacket pockets with magazines.

  “Andy, give me the list of meds.”

  “Goran will come with you,” Andy said, taking out a piece of paper and handing it to Steve. “He knows this area.”

  Goran nodded briefly. “Let me go with you, too.”

  “Take me, too,” Erkan said and stepped forward.

  Andy nodded and looked at the men. “All right. Good luck to you, mates.”

  “You keep that kid alive,” Steve said.

  Andy nodded again. Then he, Marcel and Gleb hurried away pushing the cart with Stas in front of them. They had to leave their carts behind. They had taken only their backpacks and rifles with ammo. All they cared about now was to get the wounded man safe to Dr. Brodde.

  The ghouls were a dozen yards from them now. More and more zombies were coming.

  Goran looked at the schedule of the drugstore hanging on the wall and saw addresses of other closest pharmacies.

  “We’ll go to another drugstore,” he said. ‘It’s just two blocks away.”

  “What about the weapons?” Ramses said. “Our carts are overloaded. If we leave the firearms here, that murdering swine will get them.”

  “Leave them,” Goran said. “In a minute this place will be swamped with the creatures. The bastard won’t be able to get out to use them for a long time. Just look at this horde.”

  The street looked like a spot for a political rally now. The gloomy figures with hungry hatred in their eyes staggered onward, drawn by the sound of the siren horn they could not see. In search of flesh. Any sound meant a living being for them.

  Ramses pushed his cart, and everybody followed him. In a minute, dirt jammed into the back wheels of Erkan’s cart and it was giving him a hard time. But there was no time to go back now to replace the cart.

  “Komsomolsky Avenue is just behind that post office,” Goran said, pointing toward a low building. A hundred yards more and they stopped. They saw a flow of the ghastly creatures walking on the wide avenue. Winding around the abandoned cars which sat nose to tail. It was a frozen stream of cars, which stretched for miles ahead.

  The drugstore supermarket was just across the avenue. It was much bigger than the previous one. But the passage to the drugstore was cut off by the procession of the dead. There was no way they could make a detour around this walking mass of decaying flesh.

  Then the siren stopped abruptly wailing.

  TWENTY-TWO

  Diana stood by the barred basement windows, which looked out at just above ground level. A mosquito batted desperately against the glass. Though it was warm outside, and it was the end of winter, the snow would not go away till the end of March. She was not surprised to see the insect here. Partly, because she was too tired to give it a thought. Partly, because nothing surprised her anymore.

  The people grouped in the largest basement room in the building. It was so spacious that almost all of the two hundred and forty-something hotel dwellers had managed to cram inside. The room used to serve as the storage room for outdoor summer café tables and chairs, old billiard tables and some random stuff.

  It had been cold in the basement before the people came but in half an hour the place, which was packed like sardines, was so warm that the windows had misted up.

  Diana was exhausted, and she had a high fever. She had spent all this morning in bed unable even to get up. The siren alarm caught her off guard, and she had to apply all the strength left in her to come down here. She sat on a chair and put her purse on a plastic table. Her lips were parched. She took out a bottle of water. The water was cold, and her throat was razor sore, so she sipped only a little on it to wet her dry lips. She coughed and put the bottle away.

  The people around her were in low spirits. Some of them were scared, some were grumbly. A sick kid felt worse and vomited on the floor. Concerned parents asked about Dr. Brodde but nobody knew anything about his whereabouts. He had not come down into the basement.

  Alyona Nazarenko, Diana’s personal assistant, a long-legged brunette in her mid-twenties, held the list of the dwellers and made roll calls. Most of the names had been printed before the computers and printers stopped functioning. Some of the names were added to the list by hand. The newcomers. Not a few of them. Some crossed out. The victims of the first attack. Lots of them.

  It was Sunday as far as Diana recalled. Alyona was supposed to get married this weekend. It wasn’t going to happen now. Poor girl. She didn’t know if her fiancé was alive. Like many people here didn’t know if they would ever see their loved ones again.

  Two hundred and forty-three names on the list. The girl’s hands were trembling, and she was shaking with cold because of the dampness. It was noisy, and it was hard to concentrate in this chaos with all these people constantly moving around and shouting. Diana was tense herself.

  They were using the room as a bomb shelter for the second time. The first time the siren blared, nothing happened. Thank heavens. Diana hoped nothing would happen this time as well. In Andy’s absence, she was in full charge of the hotel. She had got used to that. Andy took short vacations three times a year and went on regular business trips. She knew how to hold the fort while he was away. But within less than one week, the hotel had turned into a virtual fort.

  The noise was tremendous. The people shouted and talked emotionally and cried.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” Alyona said, “may I have your attention, please. I just want to be sure everyone is accounted for.”

  Her little voice drowned in the commotion. No one paid any attention to her. She was on the verge of weeping.

  There were shouts coming from the red-faced man. Diana recognized him. He had made a noisy outburst in the conference hall back then.

  “It’s a false alarm again, can’t you see!” he yelled. “We’re perfectly safe upstairs. Nobody’s going to bomb us. It’s ridiculous. What are we doing down here?”

  There was a shout from the crowd. “Just sit on your ass and calm down, will you?”

  The man was clearly seething with rage. “Who the fuck are you to tell me what to do?”

  Diana made an effort to maintain order. “Let’s wait out at least an hour, all right? All I know is it’s safe here.”

  The siren outside was splitting the morning air. Through the fogged windows, Diana could see a fragment of the main gates
and the yard. The number of the undead was increasing. They were attracted by the source of the sound like rats led by the Pied Piper of Hamelin. The hotel was in their way, and they were trying to march straight through the gates. It seemed that such skill as turning around obstacles to avoid bumping into them was completely erased from their rotting memories. Piles of them accumulated on the front side of the gates, and they climbed over each other.

  “I can’t do this anymore,” Alyona said to Diana, handing her the list. She began sobbing. “Sorry but I can’t.”

  Alyona had always been a person Diana could rely on, but people can act in an unexpected way when being put under an enormous amount of stress. Diana did not blame her. She took the folded sheets of paper from her and began shouting out the names in her hoarse voice. She had to stop after every third name because of her cough.

  Ivan came up. “Let me handle this.”

  Diana smiled a thankful and tired smile and collapsed in a chair. She buried her face in her hands. She thought about Andy. She missed him. He was a true leader. In any situation. Like in ancient times, when the king had to fight in the front ranks in a battle if he wanted to stay the leader of the tribe.

  Ivan was a leader, too. The people listened to whatever he told them and did what they were told to do. If this mess cleared up, she would ask Andy to promote this young man to the Security Manager officially. She was pessimistic about the near future, though. Even if they survived, Andy would most probably leave this country for good.

  Somebody pushed her chair from behind. “Move away, you pugface.”

  She looked up, turned her head and saw a woman walking away. She was wearing a gray hoodie under her coat.

  Diana rose to her feet. “Hey! What did you call me? What’s your problem?”

  The woman kept on walking. In three quick strides, Diana caught up with her and tapped her on the shoulder. The woman turned around. It was Marina Kalugina, a chambermaid.

  “I think you owe me an apology,” Diana said.

  Marina curved her lips as if she saw a boring fly. “Shut up, bitch!”

  The words hit Diana like a hammer. No one had insulted her for a long time. Her head swam. She felt pressure building behind her temples. She wished Andy were here. He had nice diplomatic skills and knew how to pour oil on troubled waters.

  “Say that again, and you’ll deeply regret it.”

  “Shut your fucking hatch, you whoring bitch!” Marina screamed into Diana’s face.

  “Oh my,” someone remarked. “Things are getting tough.”

  In other circumstances, Diana would grin and bear it. But not now. And not in front of these people. She was not going to just swallow this and back off. Her authority would be thrown out of gear forever. She reckoned she had to stick to new laws now.

  It got quieter outside. But not completely. The siren died. But the zombies were still moaning in their choir of death. And more of them were emerging from everywhere. Another instrument joined the orchestra—the deep humming of heavy planes. Bombers, Diana presumed. She was pretty sure about that because she used to live near a military airport for five years.

  Inside, in the basement, everyone’s glances were riveted on the ladies.

  Diana balled her right hand into a fist. “Just say you’re sorry, and you can go about your business in peace.”

  “Screw you!” Marina said and gave her the middle finger. “You’re nobody here now anyway!”

  Diana forced her fist to connect with Marina’s chin. The strike was painful for both of them. Diana felt she had probably twisted her wrist. Her last fight was back at school in the eighth grade. Over a boy, she and the other girl got a crush on.

  Marina did not expect such an act of violence from her boss. The blow was powerful, her teeth clattered like castanets. She raised her hand to her chin and cast a glance full of hatred. She pulled down her hood and let her red hair spill over her shoulders. Then she seized hold of Diana’s hair. It all happened within three seconds. The next second, she was on top of Diana. She drove her manicured fingernails into Diana’s face, rupturing the stitches, which had not yet been healed. Blood trickled.

  Now there was going to be a scar for life, Diana thought with fury.

  She gave out a frenzied battle cry and drove her knee into Marina’s buttocks, trying to kick her off herself. They rolled on the dusty floor, the kicks and punches flying, as Ivan interfered and pulled them apart from each other.

  Both of the fighters were puffing with anger, ready to plunge into the catfight again.

  Alyona helped her get up. Diana asked her to bring her purse she had left on the sill. The purse was open. Without giving much thought to it, she took out her compact. She flipped it open and looked in the mirror. One suture was ripped and bleeding. She dabbed at it with a napkin, wincing with pain.

  Diana zipped the purse angrily. “Slut!”

  “It serves you right!” Marina shouted from another corner. She was kicking and screaming and Ivan and another guard tried to calm her down.

  The zombies acted like ants in an anthill, when collected together. Like one single organism. The main gates were trembling, shaken by hundreds of hands. The dead were like wild animals placed behind cages. The growling and grating sounds made the kids in the shelter press closer to their moms and dads. The undead stepped on each other, creating a bottleneck at the gates. They made a huge pile enough for some of them to manage to climb on the shoulders of their fellow creatures. They grabbed at the spikes of the fence, shedding blood as the metal tore their flesh. They climbed on top of the fence and put themselves on the spikes. The following undead climbed on top of them and fell down into the hotel yard, where there was a winter garden. It was a hellish scene to watch.

  A shout in the crowd. “Look! They’re getting over the fences!”

  The zombies, which gathered in the winter garden, created a surreal image, walking around the ice sculptures of cherubs and angels holding harps, which decorated the garden. A middle-aged male zombie with a torn mouth took an interest in one of the basement windows and stared through it at the darkness inside the shelter, which hid the people. He moved closer and pressed his ugly face to the window. His breath clouded the glass, which seemed strange to Diana. Weren’t zombies supposed to be dead and not breathe?

  The undead struck the glass with a fist clad in a dirty woolen mitten. The sound was soft and weak. But it was heard by another zombie, a huge male in a leather jacket. He came up to the window, growled and hit the glass with all his might. The glass broke and fell inside the basement. Some shards got caught between the bars. The jacketed zombie made a try to crawl through the window and stuck. An undead in a police uniform staggered toward them and joined in. Another dead passerby, a zombie man wearing a ripped business suit and no shoes, fell on the pile and crawled to the window. Their noise stimulated still more attention for other cannibalistic creatures, blocking the air supply for the survivors inside.

  The first bombs started going off in the vicinity. The roof of the apartment house across the street caved in and then the building collapsed like a card house. The terrifying explosions lifted up tons of dust and debris in the air. A minivan sitting on the curb was tossed over the hotel fence like a can of beef.

  The hotel main gates evaporated with a deafening roar. The place was like a burst boil, the pus oozing out. Wriggling fragments of the dead ones hanging out near the gates were scattered across the yard and the winter garden by the multiple blasts.

  “Everybody back away from the windows!” Ivan shouted. “Move upstairs! It’s not safe here!”

  Another explosion hit the yard. This time it was a missile launched from a combat helicopter. It shredded a dozen of walkers into fleshy pieces. A large rock torn off the pavement flew into the central window. The glass crushed.

  Stricken with panic, Diana rushed to the exit. She crashed out through the door, and then suddenly it dawned on her that she was responsible for the people in the basement. She turned aro
und, gasping, but slipped and fell to the floor. She was immediately trampled by the following crowd. She tried to struggle to her feet but was knocked off again. She curled into a fetal position, covering her face and abdomen and other vital organs. Somebody scooped her off the ground and dragged to the wall so the avalanche of the frightened people did not kill her. It was that shy Chinese man with his blind daughter.

  They helped her to her feet. They could survive here during a bombing but they were defenseless against chopper missiles that could be sent at an angle and reach them.

  Another missile exploded near the basement, and the hotel shook violently. The missile that followed rammed through the left window, creating a huge hole in the side of the building and blowing dozens of people left in the basement to pieces. Then it became quiet again. The helicopter must have exhausted its supply of missiles and flown away. The mangled and able-bodied zombies alike started creeping through the hole. The others followed them. Then more of them. And more of them. And more. And more.

  TWENTY-THREE

  The earth was shaking beneath their feet as the bombs rained down. For a quarter of an hour, during which the bombing lasted, all hell was let loose. The streets and pavements were filled with fire. Burning houses crashed down. Marcel led the others away from tall buildings, which were the primary targets, obviously. Bombs exploded in front of them and behind them. On the left and on the right. Office buildings collapsed like felled trees. Cars were blasted up in the air. Whole clusters of zombies evaporated in a grayish red mist of blood and entrails. All the living was being destroyed too. Survivors had holed up here and there in apartments and offices all over the city. They were buried under the rubbles now. The snow turned black.

  Andy and his little group slalomed around stranded vehicles and groups of staggering ghouls, pushing the shopping cart with Stas on top of it. Bombs whistled in the air, and the world was falling apart around them. The explosions were deafening, and they communicated with frantic gestures. Dreadful terror and pure madness were in their eyes. The cart got stuck, and they had to carry Stas using the advertisement sign as a stretcher. They managed to jump into a hole freshly torn by a bomb in the middle of a playground just in time before a bomb smashed a carousel right behind them and blew it to pieces. The hole was deep and wide. They stayed there for a while, hoping bombs would not land in the same place twice.