Deadhead: A Zombie Apocalypse Thriller, page 10
“Right…”
Matron looked behind her, beckoning one of the armed guards closer, then turned back to Clara. “So, about your medical history. Please come with me, some of our doctors would like to check you over. Make sure you are all healthy and truly can take your place amongst us!”
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
MATHEW
Mathew’s fingers glided across the keyboard. An American set of buttons with symbols and letters switched around, but that was fine, it felt good to be typing, to be Mathew the computer guy again, and not the guy who runs the slowest or can’t carry what the other men could. He scrolled through the code checking it was as it should be, hearing Ken and Stew shouting at him for lazy programming.
“There’s no internet and I need to do this quick!” he replied to the critics in his head.
“What?” said Heather, nearby.
“Oh, er, nothing. Just thinking aloud.” He ran the code, firing up the application. Two small video feeds appeared on the screen, marked north woods and east road, the third with the title ‘north road’ remained black. “Shit.”
Heather looked in his direction. “Problem?”
“One of the cameras is not working. I need to go out there and see what the issue is.”
“Anita and Nell are taking supplies to Enzo, maybe you can go with them? I can monitor the other feeds from here, while I’m figuring out how we’re going to get these kid’s drawings into the computer.”
He nodded to a box near his feet. “I brought with me a whole bunch of cables from the bunker, one of them should work with the old scanner at the back of the room.”
She looked at the collection of shelves and dusty boxes. “Can’t say I really want to go back there…”
He smiled then stood, giving her a peck on the forehead. “Give me an hour to get this done and I’ll see what I can do.” She nodded and he made his way upstairs, through the kitchen, telling Maggie that whatever she’s making smells good, then arrived in the main hall, where Anita was checking the cans and packets of food she had in her backpack.
It wasn’t long before they were on the forest path, moving down the slope. He waved at one of the cameras that he had placed a few hours before, knowing Heather would see him before continuing.
“We need to do this quickly,” said Baldwin. “We need to get on the river as soon as we can. We’ve had no contact with Enzo for over twenty hours.”
The path evened out as they got to the bottom of the hill, the forest to their left being thick with trunks and branches, as birds sung high up in the canopy.
They began to jog, Mathew doing the same, adding to the sweat that was already built up across his limbs.
Baldwin looked back at him. “Come on! You need to get in shape!”
He sneered at her in reply, making her smile and the three of them arrived at where the path met the north road.
“About a hundred yards up there,” he said, slightly out of breath. “I attached it to the porch on a house up there.”
They continued on, Mathew’s breathing becoming laboured as the large white house came into view.
“You go with him,” said Anita to Baldwin. “I’ll watch the road.”
Baldwin ran ahead, up a series of stone steps which led through the front garden, Mathew following but stopped on seeing how trampled the long stalks of recently blooming flowers were. Their petals scattered and fragmented across the otherwise neat lawn.
“What are you doing?” she said to him then looked back at the ground near the house’s entrance. “I think I found your camera.”
Mathew was looking past her, down the side of the building to the tree line above the house. The undead were staggering out from it. Their ripped clothes dyed red, their hair covering their faces, but there was no doubt he had been seen, as they were moving directly for him. “Er… we got a problem…”
Baldwin stood back up with the small camera in her hand, then promptly dropped it, holding her rifle up towards the group that had now become five. She looked at the front door of the house. “Let’s—”
An almighty roar reverberated through the air, making everyone shudder and raise their weapons without truly knowing what caused the noise.
“What is that!” shouted Anita, who had run up the stone steps from the road.
Mathew’s eyes returned to the zombies that were only twenty-feet away but before he could speak, they too began to turn to their left, his right, to something behind the building, something that was making itself heard by a heavy thudding sound…
A mass of dark brown fur smashed into the undead bodies, trampling then slashing, removing their limbs. Claws and fangs ripping and gouging into the animated bodies that tried to sink their teeth into the huge bear.
“Is it dead?!” shouted Baldwin, trying to be heard over the animal’s roars, the barrel of her rifle swaying in motion with the creature’s attacks.
Mathew’s thoughts began to flow again. “I…” He tried to see any obvious injuries on the grizzly then realised something. “No!.. The undead act as one… They wouldn’t—”
Bodies… a wall upon wall, layer upon layer, bled from the shadows of the forest, enveloping the beast, another roar being cut short as hundreds of the undead smothered it, then kept going towards the group of three.
Instinctively, Baldwin pushed open the house’s door, falling backwards as limbs lurched at her from the darkness within. She fired, lighting up the hallway and the ruined faces of undead trying to get at her.
Mathew pulled her backwards. “Come on!” he shouted as the ground shook from the weight pounding it. Running down the stone steps, they began to flee to the west, back along the road but promptly stopped. The narrow stretch of concrete was packed by animated bodies which spread out into the woods, the sounds of twigs and branches being snapped almost as loud as the thunder of thousands of feet upon the ground.
“Where?!” shouted Anita.
Mathew looked at the forest opposite. It was a small segment of woodland between roads. He threw his hand in that direction. “That way! We have to get to Howard!”
They stumbled then ran through the undergrowth, trying not to trip, trying not to glance behind at the sea of movement.
“Someone? Come in!” shouted Baldwin into her radio as they continued sprinting across the dirt between the trees. “Undead everywhere! Heading to—”
Mathew heard the grunt as the wind was taken from the soldier’s lungs, a body driving her up against a wide trunk. He staggered in her direction as another body crashed into him, its limbs becoming entangled with his, as they fell to the ground, just catching glimpses of more bodies clamping onto Baldwin’s arms and legs. As a mouth with blackened, broken teeth snapped inches from his nose, the clatter of gunfire tore through the air, multiple volleys. Skulls cracked from projectiles that were now being sprayed from multiple directions, but the thing on top of him avoided them all as Mathew’s strength fell from his arms and a jaw wrapped around the side of his face, the bony protrusions sinking deep into the muscles there.
He wanted to scream but his mouth had stopped functioning, the sinews and muscles it used being severed as the thing’s teeth dug deeper.
Suddenly there was a rush of cool air and a blur of movement, and he realised he was being pulled through the leaves and twigs, while the battle continued.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
BALDWIN
Baldwin had no idea if the body she was pulling across the concrete was still human, but she wasn’t going to leave Mathew behind. His last moment wasn’t going to be in some unknown stretch of a wood, having come halfway across the world.
She could hear them behind her, but there was no point turning around anymore. A pull on the trigger of her rifle just produced a dull click, the weapon only being good as a club, and she was out of grenades. The last of which was the reason she was still alive.
Anita was no more. The small horde that came at them, were as fast as Baldwin had seen. These beings sprinted across the ground, leaped and tore into them without any sound or warning. As she fought with them, others took down Mathew and another group of at least five, slammed into Anita, knocking her clean off her feet, where she sat dazed, blood streaming down her face until she was set upon again, torn apart in a feeding frenzy.
There was no time for grief, unless it be for herself.
Her clothes were wet, not merely from sweat but from blood and she knew the odour was a powerful signal to the undead that were still pursuing her. What little of the life giving substance she still had in her veins, was going to have to be enough…
She fell upon the gate which clattered in reply.
“Come on, Howard,” she uttered under her breath. “You must see me…”
There were footsteps behind her. Something was coming across the road, only yards away. She hadn’t the strength to pivot. Perhaps it would be better to let the thing bite into her neck. The blood loss would be quick, her consciousness flickering into oblivion within seconds. Not a terrible way to go.
The explosive sound had her falling to the ground as a ringing continued in her ears. She looked up, seeing the large front grill of an SUV, its engine somehow completely silent. Another boom followed another, as particulate body matter draped her face and arms, the zombie’s body collapsing on the road.
The gate moved inwards, almost taking her with it.
“Can you hear me?” shouted the old General.
“Yes! Help him first! Give me the gun!” He handed the twelve-gauge to her as he took Mathew’s shoulders, and with some effort dragged Mathew into the passenger’s side of the car, then returned.
Baldwin wasn’t aware of that though for her world had turned dark.
CHAPTER FORTY
JOE
Joe held his weight against the heavy dining table, that with Tyrone and others he had placed up against the ground floor entrance. Even then, it was taking all their effort to hold it in place as the door was slowly disintegrating.
“There’s too many!” shouted the lieutenant.
Joe looked back to the hall and Lauren. “The other entrance?!” he enquired.
“There are less there! Grace and the others are keeping them out!”
“Anything from Nell?”
Her slow shaking of her head told him more than he wanted to know. They had already lost too many of those that had traveled from the Scottish island. He couldn’t face more, so soon, not Nell, Mathew…
He had told the others to stay in their rooms, but most were either on the landing above, or on the roof, where Jenn was stationed.
He held his radio to his mouth. “Jenn, how’s it looking? Any sign they’re leaving? Over.”
“The entire grounds are flooded with them. They’re even trying to climb the walls! Over.”
“Don’t engage with them, unless they get inside! Over.”
“Agreed!”
A constant scraping sound filled the air, as dust fell from somewhere high above. The door creaked, then partially cracked, a plank being inched from another, a gap appearing and with it bloodshot eyes and knotted hair were quickly eclipsed by grime laden fingernails, trying to expand the gap, desperate to fracture the wood further.
Something crashed across the room, Joe not being the only one in the large hall to jolt. A large painting had fallen from the wall, one of a few still hanging. He began to look back to the door, placing even more effort into keeping the table in place, when an idea struck him almost as hard. His attention darted from the broken framed painting to the fire, where embers still burned. He looked at Lauren and then to Swanson who was somewhere on the landing above.
“Saul! Get down here! You’re needed!”
“I’m needed with my wife!”
“Saul!”
Lauren ran forward, holding the table next to Sam and Tyrone. “I got it!”
Joe ran to the large painting, lifting it with both hands then smashing the remaining frame into smaller parts.
“What you gonna do with that?” said Swanson from the level above.
“Why don’t you come down here and find out!”
Swanson frowned, grumbled something then jogged down the stairs as Joe pulled the white sheets from other pieces of furniture.
“Start breaking up the furniture.”
“We’re going to need more than some wooden clubs!”
Joe threw a hand at the fireplace. “The fire! If we toss enough wood down from the roof, we can create a firebreak around the building, and maybe make the others turn away.”
Swanson looked at the fire then back to Joe, who had already created a pile of timber. “You don’t think sending plumes of smoke into the air, is going to alert anyone paying attention to this area?”
“We got no choice!”
“Help him!” shouted Lydia from the landing above.
“Fine!”
Joe held the radio to his mouth. “Jenn. I’ve got an idea. We’re going to throw wood down from the roof, then set it alight, try to create a ring of fire around us! Over.”
“Brilliant! How can we help? Over.”
“I need hands to break up the furniture and carry the wood up top. Over.”
“People coming down now. Over.”
Owen, Ember and Aiden appeared on the landing, descended and immediately began ferrying wood back up top, while Joe and Swanson continued the destruction of the hall’s furniture.
Top planks of the door splintered, being pushed in by several hands, that then tried to pull the rest of the wood away.
“Here!” said Joe, throwing sharp pieces of wood at the feet of those holding the table.
Lauren picked up a piece, jabbing the sharp end at the faces appearing in the gap.
Joe turned to follow Owen, who had an armful of wooden pieces then noticed who was awkwardly coming down the stairs. “We got this!” he said to Liz.
“You do you!” she said. Tia ran down, past her. “We can help break things!”
Joe didn’t have time to argue, he ran up the stairs with his own pile of wooden bits, then along the landing as the beams in the ceiling creaked, then higher up another two flights until emerging into the fresher but warm, early evening air. Without stopping, he ran to the ramparts, looking over to where a trail of wood was barely visible due to the bodies traipsing over it. “It’s not enough,” he said to Jenn, standing beside him as others ran in and out of the roof’s entrance, out of breath and dropping their wood onto the pile already there.
He clicked on his radio again. “Grace? Come in. Over.”
His speaker came alive with shouts and yells, then the doctor’s voice. “They’re getting in, Joe!”
“Try and hold them off a bit longer! We need oil! I think there’s some in the basement.”
“On it!”
Behind him, Owen dropped another stack of wood. “Owen?” The boy stopped. “Get down to the basement, and bring what oil there is, back up here!”
The boy nodded then left, as Ember moved the other way. Joe and Jenn tipped the timber over the different sides of the roof.
It wasn’t long before the boy reappeared, a gallon bottle of oil in his hand, which Joe took and started to pour over the pieces remaining. His radio came alive with Lauren’s panicked voice. “We can’t hold them out, Joe!”
He swore, handing the oil to Jenn. “Keep covering the wood. I’ll be back.” He ran into the stairwell, Owen following.
“Won’t the fire burn us as well?” said the boy.
“Stone walls!” Joe replied, running out onto the landing, then stopped at the sight below. Bodies were oozing through where the door had been, the table now pushed back, Lauren, Tyrone and Sam on the inside, each one smashing the skulls of any of the undead pushing close.
Liz and Tia were nowhere to be seen.
Joe ran down the stairs, glancing at the boy. “Stay up here!”
“But I can—”
“Stay!” Joe picked up a piece of wood, a chair leg, ran forward and slashed it across the face of a zombie almost past the table, then another and another, but it was obviously a losing battle, the table kept being shunted further back. He had no choice but to leave them. The fire had to be started. He turned, grabbing one of the sheets, wrapped it around the leg and drove it into the fire, where it quickly ignited then without pause turned and ran up the stairs, wanting to know where his family had gone but not having time to find out. He quickly got to the roof and thrust the flaming piece of wood into the pile of others, with erupted in fire, making him jump back.
“We have to get this over the edge!” he shouted to Jenn.
She grabbed two pieces, the flames burning her fingers and tossed them over, he doing the same. Screams drifted from the roof’s doorway, but there was no time to investigate.
“It’s working!” shouted Jenn.
He peered over her side of the wall. Flames were building some forty-feet below, the undead shuffling away. He turned to the General. “I have to help inside!”
She nodded as he ran back into the stairwell, quickly making it to the landing which a zombie was wondering along. Pulling his blade he drove it into the thing’s skull, throwing it over the handrail where it fell onto others that were making their way up the stairs. Running down some of the steps, he drove his boot into the closest, causing it to fall upon more behind. “Liz! Lauren!” he shouted into the hall, which appeared to only contain the undead.
His radio crackled. “We’re okay!” said Liz from his speaker. “We’re all in the basement! Door’s holding but Tyrone is—”
Hands clambered to restrain his own, trying to pull him towards the mouths that were snapping. The radio fell as he slashed and swiped with this knife, the blade sinking into skull after skull, the bodies piling up at the bottom of the stairs, his hands becoming soaked in blood…
The last body fell atop others and he fell back onto the steps, exhausted. The air was tinged with smoke but no more of the undead were moving.
