“So, what do you suggest?”
“Me? I suggest sitting tight, hoping for the best, but preparing for the worst. There’s talk of us all getting out of here at some point. Those folk down there will need you when we bug-out, so you should think about it before you go running out on some mission to find your guys. If they don’t turn up, me and my dogs will be your first volunteers to help look for them. But just not yet.”
“I thought you weren’t a people person?”
“I’m not,” he grinned. “I’m a survivor, and those two crazy bastards, along with you, are my best hope at keeping my skin covering my bones.”
She nodded and turned her attention back to the skyline. The grey and lifeless buildings were even more visible now. She had watched them slowly decay over the years and had almost forgotten what they had looked like at the beginning of the dead plague. Any colour that they had once held had long since faded. Now, their brick and concrete were coated with moss and years of grime. Most of the glass from their windows was gone, and the distinctive angles and corners of their rooftops now seemed somewhat rounded as the masonry crumbled and plant life flourished in the cracks. She scanned from left to right along the tombstone like buildings, but there was no sign of life. She was clinging to hope, wanting to suddenly see a signal from Al and Tommy, but the sky above the city was as dead as the land below.
Turning her attention to ground level she focussed in on the mass of infected that kept up their vigil on the base from afar. Sebastian was right, there did seem to be more of them today. She wondered whether that was actually the case, or if she had just not paid much attention to their numbers recently.
Their front line had not moved in the years since the fires that had incinerated thousands of their kind. They had remained at a safe distance, and no one could understand why. The dead had never withdrawn, regardless of the threat to their existence or the losses they incurred during an attack. Their single mindedness and lack of desire for self-preservation always drove them forward into the walls of bullets and flames. To see the dead turn and retreat had been almost as horrifying to Tina as it had been encouraging to the other survivors. Those who had faced the dead in battle before could not help but feel great concern for the sudden change in the actions of the infected.
After a while, the behaviour of the dead beyond their walls made all of the living uneasy. Rumours that the reanimated bodies had developed self-awareness—even intelligence—terrified the people within the base. Panic began to spread as speculation grew, and facts were either embellished or completely fabricated. Eventually, Tina herself had led a mission out into the wasteland during darkness and snatched a number of specimens for the doctors and scientists to conduct experiments on. Their findings showed that the reanimated corpses were no further advanced in their thought process or abilities than they had been at the start of the spread. However, something was keeping them back, but no one knew what. Eventually it was assumed that they had developed a more heightened sense of self-preservation, and the experiments were stopped to save valuable resources.
“What do you think’s going on with them, then?” Tina asked, nodding towards the horde of rotting corpses and the hundreds that were moving forward.
“I don’t know,” Sebastian replied. “But my dogs are a little worked up today. They started getting agitated last night, whimpering and whining, and I didn’t have a clue why. Now, they’re plain shitting themselves.”
She nodded.
“It was only five minutes ago, when I came up here to talk to you and saw how many there were now out there that I realised what had been bothering the dogs. They can sense a lot more than we can, and there’s something in the air.”
She nodded and lowered her binoculars.
“Be ready for last light. If Al and Tommy are not back by then and there’s still no comms, we’re going out there. Have your best dog ready,” she ordered, leaving no room for discussion. She smiled. “Unless you’ve changed your mind about being the first to volunteer?”
5
The extent of their predicament became much more apparent during daylight. They knew that they were in a dire situation, but the horrific scale of the problem did not completely reveal itself in its entirety until the sun had breached the horizon. Al and Tommy stood at the edge of the rooftop, gaping with open mouths at an ocean of rotting flesh that bubbled and swished below them. No matter where they stood on the top floor of the car-park, it was the same story. A carpet of bobbing heads, open mouths, and grasping arms filled every available space below them. The noise of the crowd was almost deafening, making ordinary speech between the two men impossible.
“They’re really going for it, aren’t they?” Al murmured.
“What the hell are we going to do? They’re shoulder-to-shoulder down there. There’s no way of us getting out of this gang-fuck.”
Al did not reply. He had been staring down at the seething mass below them for quite some time, watching them and trying his best to think of a feasible plan to get them both out of the trap. His mind raced, but no matter how hard he tried he could not see a way out for them. He turned and looked back at the bodies of Harry and his team sprawled out on the rooftop and reduced to mere bones. The images of him and Tommy ending up the same way refused to leave his thoughts.
“Well, what do we do?” Tommy asked again with urgency.
“Shut the fuck up, Tommy,” Al angrily snapped back at him, flecks of spittle shooting from between his teeth as the veins in his neck protruded from beneath the skin. “I’m thinking.”
“Thinking? Fucking thinking?”
“Yeah, I’m
fucking
thinking.”
“You’d better think faster then,” Tommy grumbled as he turned to look over the edge once more. “Because I’m frigging out of ideas.”
Tommy turned and stomped across the roof of the building with fear and rage rippling through his bloodstream. With a frustrated snarl he grasped at his chinstrap and ripped the helmet from his head. In a fit of anger, he hurled it the length of the rooftop where it slammed into the wall at the far end with a crunch and rolled into the corner. Pacing again, he ran his fingers over his scalp, clearly agitated.
“Completely out of ideas,” he groaned as he turned and looked at the bodies around the rooftop. “We’re well and truly fucked, Al. We’ve had it this time. We’ll end up just like those poor bastards.”
There were still more of the dead arriving, attracted to the area by the sound of the crowd. They hobbled, crawled, and slithered through the buildings and along the curb sides, dragging their pathetic carcasses through the city, and adding to the countless mass of agitated cadavers that had swarmed into the area. By now, Tommy imagined that most of the other streets within the rest of the urban area would more or less be deserted. Somehow, they had stirred up the entire city and become the main focus of every reanimated corpse in the area.
He was sweating despite the morning chill, and his breathing was coming in gasps. He was scared and had no issues with admitting it to himself or allowing Al to see it in his eyes. He began to pace the open area of the rooftop again, nervously rubbing his hands over his face and slapping the back of his neck, hoping to dislodge a sudden epiphany from the deep recesses of his brain.
“What about the flares?” he asked, turning to Al.
“What about them?”
“We could use them to signal base. If we fired one up, at least Tina and the others would know we were alive and where we are.”
“Then what?” Al shrugged, a contemptuous expression on his face as he glared back at his friend. “We send up a flare, Tina gets into a flap, and before we know it, she launches some daft rescue mission, and walks slap bang into a wall of walking pus? Use your fucking head, Tommy. We need to get ourselves out of this.”
“Yeah, fair one,” Tommy replied, and then continued to pace, peering over the lip of the roof from time to time and hoping that the mass of bodies would somehow and miraculously begin to thin out.
Al looked around at the buildings closest to them. The parking block was the tallest in the area, with the nearest being almost twenty metres shorter in height. The distance was too far for either of them to jump, but for a while he could not help but consider and fantasise the notion. He turned and looked across to the faded, red framed box fitted to the side of the door leading onto the rooftop. The glass panel containing the fire hose was still intact, and again he slipped into a short daydream, imagining that they could use the hose as a link between the buildings while he and Tommy crawled along it to safety.
He shook his head, snapping himself back to the real world. The fire hose would never be long enough, and besides, they had no way of securing it to the adjacent roof. Another image popped into his head; the pair of them dangling pathetically from the hose along the wall of the parking complex, stranded as their grips slowly failed them while a crowd of hungry ghouls waited below with outstretched arms.
“Think,” he hissed with gritted teeth. “Think.”
There was a loud crunch from beneath them that interrupted his thoughts. Even over the howls of the dead the noise was clearly audible. Both of the men stopped in their tracks, their thoughts of escape evaporating, and their eyes widening as their throats tightened and making it impossible for them to swallow. They recognised the sound for exactly what it was. There was no mistaking it. They turned and rushed to the wall.
“Fucking hell, the weight of the crowd is too much for the barricades,” Tommy gasped, staring down at the entry ramp that was directly below them. The dead were pushing and shoving at the trucks that were blocking their path. “They’re starting to shift.”
Both of them stepped back from the wall, and once again, instinctively checked their weapons and ammunition. They raced across to the opposite side as the sound of grinding metal continued to ring out over the crescendo beneath them. The vehicles that were blocking the entry and exit ramps were slowly being pushed inwards. They could see thousands of bodies packed in tightly around the cars and trucks that were being reduced to nothing but mashed bone and pulped rotted flesh as the swarm surged and pushed from behind.
Al watched as the rear half of what had once been a white Transit van began to crumple in on itself as it was pressed harder against the support pillar beside the entrance. The weakened metal was distorting and bulging and making deep booms and screeches as the body dented and flexed. The frames, through years of corrosion, had become too weak to withstand the pressure. They were twisting and bending, and soon they would collapse completely, leaving the way in wide open for the flood of infected to rush through.
“Sweet Jesus. There’s too many of them, and they’ll be in here soon.”
“Come on,” Tommy ordered as he turned and headed for the doorway that led back down into the lower floors.
“Where to?”
“We need to find a place to hide. We’re out of options, and I don’t fancy trying to hold my own up here. I’m no hero.”
They raced down the stairs towards the next level, their footsteps and heavy, fear filled breathing echoing loudly through the stairwell. There was another crunch from below them, sounding hollow and magnified in the confines of the staircase. They slammed into the first door that they came to, and out onto the next level of the parking complex.
A sudden flurry of movement and sound almost caused Tommy to loose off a volley of fire as a flock of pigeons took to the air, startled at the sudden crash of the door and the appearance of the two men. Al and Tommy ducked as dozens of the birds fluttered around them, scattering in all directions, and fleeing through the openings between the parking levels.
“Fuck,” Tommy snapped, as he raised his rifle.
After a few short seconds, the birds were gone, and an eerie calmness settled over them again. The parking bays were mostly empty, with just a few scattered vehicles slowly rusting away and being swallowed up with moss and plant life.
Tommy paused and scanned the length of the level. None of the vehicles looked much stronger than cardboard boxes. He considered the elevator shafts at the far end for a moment. However, they looked just as corroded as the vehicles around them. It was doubtful that they would get the doors open, and by the sounds of the racket beneath them, it was clear to him that they did not have the time to try.
“No good,” he declared. “Next one down.”
Within seconds they had covered the next flight of stairs. More clangs and clunks echoed up from below as the barriers were steadily heaved to the side, making the two men increase their pace as their hearts pounded away within their chests. For hours their bodies had been surging with adrenaline, causing their limbs to shake and their stomachs to knot. Now, since hearing the sounds of the barricades beginning to collapse, their systems went into overdrive. Their adrenal glands began pumping more of the intoxicating chemical into their bloodstreams, causing their bodies to tremble and their legs to feel like jelly, while the neurons in their brains fired at an increased rate, making their minds race as panic squeezed them tightly.
Without stopping they barged through the next door, saw that there were more vehicles on this level, and then took off along the parking bays in search of somewhere they could hide. Most of the cars were untouched, covered in dust and grime while rust steadily crawled its way over their frames. Most of them had by now lost their tyres, and in between the vehicles weeds were springing up from every conceivable space and creating a carpet of tangled vines and roots. Tommy paused and considered jumping into the foliage, wrapping themselves up in the thorns and leaves, hoping that the dead would not discover them. He quickly dismissed the desperate and foolish idea. That sort of thinking was the fantasy of a child in the same way that a blanket or pillow could protect them from monsters.
“There,” Al grunted and raced ahead of Tommy, making a beeline for a large van with the faded logo of a courier firm stencilled on the side.
He grabbed the handles of the rear doors and pulled hard. Nothing happened. They were locked, or sealed tight from rust. Next, he moved to the passenger side and tried again, yanking on the handle with all his strength.
With a crack the locking mechanism came away in his hand, leaving a gaping hole that was rimmed with bright orange oxidised metal in the side of the door. He reached his arm through, feeling the jagged shards of the panel scraping against the unprotected skin on the underside of his forearm. He paid it no attention. At that moment he did not care about infections, only finding somewhere to hole up before the dead arrived, thirsting for their blood. If he managed to get out of this mess alive, he promised himself that he would see the doctors at the base for a tetanus shot.
There was a clatter followed by a long drawn out grinding sound as one of the barricades at ground level finally gave way. Within seconds, the sound of trampling feet accompanied by lustful wails and aggressive snorts, could be heard throughout the parking complex. Al pictured thousands of them rushing through the gap, quickly filling the lowest level, and piling in through the door of the stairwell.
“Fuck,” he snarled. “There go the barricades.”
“They’re in,” Tommy exclaimed from the rear of the van, gripping his rifle tighter as he watched the door that they had entered through. “They’re in, Al.”
It was all happening very fast. They could now hear the echoing footsteps growing louder as the infected surged up through the floors of the complex. No doubt some spewed out onto the lower levels, but with the numbers involved there would be thousands headed in their direction, following the steps beneath their rotting feet and the backs of the mindless corpses in front of them while climbing higher through the building.
“Tommy, in here,” Al grunted as he grasped the torn metal and ripped the door open. “Get in here, quick.”
The door was stiff and needed to be forced. A loud screech filled the parking level as the hinges protested against the years of heavy corrosion. Once open, a gust of dank and mouldy air whooshed out from inside, smelling like stagnant water and sodden clothing. Al paused and hesitantly poked his head inside, checking that there were no surprises waiting for them in the darkness.
“Clear.”
They jumped inside. As Tommy hurled himself over the passenger seat and into the rear compartment, Al began attempting to secure the door. He pulled it shut, but it only fell open again. The catch was completely destroyed and the weight of the door, along with the slight list of the van, caused the doorframe to swing outwards. He twisted and grabbed the seatbelt, hoping to find a way of securing it, but the nylon was too brittle and snapped when it scraped across the shards of rusted metal in the door.
“Bollocks,” he cursed as he searched for an alternative. “Find something we can use to tie it shut.”
They searched their immediate surroundings, desperate to find something that could help seal the door. A rope, chain, anything that would be of use. The van was empty. Only a few oily rags and an assortment of small plastic boxes littered the floor of the vehicle.
“There’s nothing here. Use one of the straps from your daysack.”
Al unshouldered the small pack and began to fumble with the buckles, his hands shaking and his bulky fingers uncooperative. He ripped off his gloves, hoping to manipulate his fingers better. Outside there was a loud bang. The door to the parking level where they were hiding had been thrown open. The pair of them froze, staring at one another as they realised that they were out of time. The dead were inside.