by Colley, Ryan
The undead climbed over cars, and each other, to get closer to me. They swarmed forward faster and faster. I am certain a few were crushed by the stampede. I pulled the throttle back and rocketed forward. It was going to be a close call. The exit of the car park was dead ahead, but it would mean the undead charged at me from a ninety-degree angle. If I wasn’t fast enough then I would be swamped in seconds. I leaned forward, hoping the momentum would carry me forward that little bit more; the same way you see kids lean side to side when playing video games. I sped onwards. I was fully aware of the undead. I was also fully aware that they were only a matter of metres away. I could pretty much feel the undead’s clutches around me as I exited the car park. I swerved the motorbike sideways in an effort to stop it. I was thrown off and I tumbled across the ground. I covered my head to protect myself. I came to a stop a few metres from my motorbike, both of us beat up. I quickly picked myself up in an effort to escape from the undead, which were out and onto the street. My leg hurt. An excruciating amount. I looked down and saw there was a lot of blood. My leg felt like it was going to collapse under my own weight. My military fatigues were soaked with my own blood. I didn’t have time to worry about my legs. I limped ahead and picked my motorbike back up. My machete was next to it. I scooped it up. I threw my damaged leg over my ride. I could see a large shard of glass sticking out of my leg and through my uniform. I didn’t try to remove it. It was probably the only thing stemming the flow of blood. My head spun and I could barely keep my vision straight. How I had survived without a helmet was beyond me. Suddenly, the closest zombie was within grabbing distance. I swung the machete in an arc through its head. I got sprayed with blackened blood and the zombie fell to the ground. I tucked the machete against my side and sped away, desperate to get away from the crowd of undead amassing in the streets.
I kept driving down the road and took a few turns until I was certain the horde I had just escaped from wouldn’t find me. I stopped the motorbike. I needed a breather. I winced as I moved my leg. I bent down and tore away a piece of the already torn material that used to be my trousers, using it to mop up the blood. It was no good, it just kept bleeding. I reached for the saddle bag and pulled out some painkillers, downing some quickly. I was sure I took more than the recommended dosage, but I didn’t care. The pain was so bad I could barely think. I re-evaluated my leg. The glass looked like it was stuck into my leg in a nasty way. I splashed some sort of antibacterial gel on it which burned a lot, wrapped it in a bandage, and then downed some antibiotics. I didn’t have time to be weak. I needed to stop any infection setting in. I had taken care of it to the best of my ability in that moment. I wrapped duct tape around the bandage and glass in an attempt to keep pressure on it and to keep it clean from any further gore from the undead. It would also stop the glass from moving and causing me pain. I had to sort it out when I had time. If it had cut an artery, I was sure I would have already bled out. I looked around at my surroundings. I recognised it. I was near Alice’s street. I kept moving. I started riding towards Alice’s. It was the final countdown.
SAM’S LETTER TO HIS FAMILY.
Dear Mum and Kelsey,
We all know the world is going bad, and fast. We know enough about zombie films to know that everything will fall eventually. It is only ever a matter of time before the undead win.
I know you will be able to survive without me. Our family probably knows how to deal with it better than most. You can keep our family alive. Play your strengths and guard your weaknesses. Don’t let your humanity get the better of you, but don’t become monsters either. There will be enough of them out there.
Remember what we’ve spoken about and treat what I have written as law.
I know I am being selfish, but I need to leave. It’s the only way.
Don’t forget me. I will be back.
I promise.
Love, Sam
CHAPTER 41
I turned the corner onto the penultimate road before Alice’s. The roar of the motorbike was the only sound around. Even in the days before undead roamed the earth, a motorbike and the noise it came with wouldn’t have been a common sight in that particular street. My leg throbbed intensely. I was certain infection would set in soon if I didn’t do something about it.
When I had travelled there previously, when the world was alive, everything was always so prim and proper. There was never a hedge out of place, nor did the grass ever grow too long. It was like a perfect and safe world. That, however, was no longer. That was just stories from the past. The once near-perfect street was a shadow of how it once was. Blood streaked the roads and pavements and grass. There were pieces of bone and carrion just lying there, like a child’s discarded plaything. There was nothing recognisable as once human. Just carnage, everywhere. I could see smoke rising high into the sky a road or so over; the acrid air it left behind sat uncomfortably in my nostrils. The smell took me back to the New Year’s Eve I had spent with Alice. It was my first New Year’s Eve away from home and I had spent it with her. It was fantastic. We lit some fireworks in the back garden, one of which didn't sail quite high enough and struck the neighbour’s house. I wondered if I would ever see fireworks again. I used to think back to that day, when everything seemed so perfect and right.
I snapped out of the thoughts which would lead me down a dark and dangerous path. I continued onwards.
I continued along the road slowly and took in the destruction around me. Most of the front doors of houses were open, blood and gore leading into the house. The trail didn’t look like it had left every house. I suppose some of the undead had found some innocent person to sink their teeth into but couldn’t figure out how to leave. A few of the undead stood motionless in the front gardens of people’s houses. Their heads turned to follow me but they made no attempt to pursue me. Perhaps they'd had their fill of flesh and didn’t need more? I didn’t know, but I doubted the bottomless pits of hunger could ever be sated. I didn’t think I would ever find out why they remained dormant on those front lawns, mingling with their neighbours and killers. I continued onwards.
One thing I noticed was the lack of an attempt to escape. Once again, there were no military personnel, living nor dead. Very few cars had even made it off the driveways; the ones which did just sat in the road, motionless. The whereabouts of their owners were unknown, but the shattered windows and bloody pools of gore around the doors were all the clues I needed as to their fate. One person was still in her car; no longer alive, but not quite dead either. She thrashed about, restrained by her seatbelt. The undead woman snapped her teeth and reached for me with no success. She had half of her face missing, torn away by her attackers. The red-stained bone was exposed, and tendons expanded and contracted with her jaw movements. It was like a living diagram of how the human body worked, “living” being the odd word out. The irony didn’t escape me that her seatbelt, which may have saved her life once upon a time, was probably the very thing that got her killed. I was saddened by that. Not enough to slow down, however. I continued onwards.
I weaved in and out of the death smeared across the roads. The carnage was worse in some places, as if the residents had put up more of a fight, but there were no discarded weapons to show that. Still, it looked as if the dead had washed through that particular area with little to no resistance. The military must have pulled out when quarantine broke, unless they realised they would be better off on their own and had just up and left. So why didn't the people fight? Alice had always said it was an area of the elderly, but surely they would have put up some resistance? Did that mean that quarantine had broken so fast and the wave of dead spread too quickly to even form a resistance? Or had the people come to realise there was no hope without military assistance and just given up? I didn’t want to think about it. I needed to get to Alice. Surely her street would be better? I doubt it, a voice inside me whispered. I didn’t even dare to consider this a possibility. I was so close! I hadn’t come so far to fail Alice. I refused to believe I
was too late. I continued onwards.
CHAPTER 42
I turned into Alice’s street, cruising along. I came to a halt just to take in the chaos. The destruction was so much worse there. So much blood. The street was flooded with it. There were patches of exposed concrete, but they were just small islands in the sea of death. You could almost smell the iron in the air from all the spilled blood. Undead, and dead alike, littered the street. Once again, the undead didn’t seem interested in me and only gave curious glances as I passed. They stood amid the death, ignorant it was even there. The death and destruction went as far as the street did. It went past Alice’s home. An involuntary sob escaped me. The undead stirred slightly, as if the human noise awoke them from their dormant state. I quickly bottled the emotion down. It could get me killed. For better or for worse, there would be time for it later. The undead moved, slowly but determinedly, towards me. I began moving again. I continued onwards.
I avoided the death as best as I could, although that didn’t stop the motorbike slipping on the blood occasionally. I didn’t look, but I knew the tyres were spraying arcs of gore into the air. I was sure the back of my military uniform would be shades of green and red. There was no way I could avoid getting it on me. I dodged my way between the few cars which had made it onto the road. I wasn’t moving fast, just quick enough that the undead couldn’t reach me. They moved slowly as it was but, mixed with the obstacles and bloody ground, they weren’t going to get me. I moved ahead, the roar of the motorbike slowly grabbing the attention of more of the dormant undead. It was like I was the leader of a very dark marching band, the moaning chorus of the undead almost as loud as my vehicle. I could see the turning into Alice’s drive ahead. My chest tightened and my heart rate rapidly increased. It would be the deciding moment. Everything I had done condensed to that moment.
This is it. I stepped off my motorbike. I didn’t even wait for it to stop. The momentum carried the motorbike forward before it collapsed onto its side. I barely noticed my leg screaming in pain. I almost collapsed under my own weight. I was too transfixed on the house. I stood at the foot of the driveway, machete in one hand and revolver in the other. I walked forward and onto the driveway. My eyes took in everything at once.
Blood covered the driveway. Cars were still in place but no longer resembled their former selves. Blood and shattered glass coated them. I didn’t notice any blood inside of them, though. Seeing the cars like that was almost the saddest thing I had seen on my entire journey. Alice, her mum and dad all had the same model of car, albeit different colours. They had named all their cars – Pop, Pep, and Pap – which, as a person who never named their inanimate playthings, I found really odd to begin with. After a while, it became an endearing trait of the Kingsley family. Each car had a little personality. Alice’s car, Pop, had the personality of a young girl; an innocent child who is really eager to please. Now, the family of cars sat on the drive, a shell of their former glory. Seeing the cars covered in blood and gore, battered and broken, was heart-breaking.
“Oh, Pop,” I said softly and patted her little bonnet. I felt tears well in my eyes but wiped them away. I couldn’t let any slip through my defences. I turned away and allowed my eyes to follow the trail of blood. The same trail of blood which headed straight to the door. The same door which was slightly ajar and had a bloody hand print on it.
I walked forward.
Oh no.
My chest tightened.
God.
My breathing became uneven.
Please God.
My legs became unstable.
No.
A lump in my throat.
Oh God.
My eyes blurred.
Not like this. Please.
I placed my hand against the door.
Please let them be okay.
Movement inside.
I’m begging you.
I pushed the door open …
Oh God.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
I always enjoyed reading fictional worlds, but creating my own was always my passion. My Year 8 English teacher told me I should pursue writing after a short story I had written for a school project.
Things changed and life moved on, but even while I was graduating from my Bachelors and Masters in Psychology, I still wrote stories and I still loved doing it. Writing is my passion, and everything else I do is a means for me to carry on with that passion.
I’m also prepared to move to a secure location at a zombie’s notice …
If you’ve gotten this far, please leave me a review and message me; I love hearing what people think!
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www.AmongTheDead.co.uk
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WILL