The rage book 1 the rage, p.21
The Rage (Book 1): The Rage, page 21
part #1 of The Rage Series
“We ready, boss?” Dobbs asked, coming up beside him and wiping sweat from his face.
Daz remained by the door, waiting for the occasional infected to crawl through. Whenever one did, he slammed the ice axe down into its skull and waited for the next.
“Yeah.”
Lifting his crowbar, Dobbs jammed it between the lock and the frame before wrenching it. The wood splintered and the cheap door sprang open. Jack rushed inside, surprising the infected woman there.
She howled as he leapt at her, knocking her back fall against the couch. He landed hard, grunting as pain shot through him, but pushed himself to his feet with knife flashing out for the infected woman.
Her howl turned to a scream of rage as he sliced through the skin of her arm and he stepped in, hitting her in the chin with a clenched fist before following it with a slash of the knife across her throat.
He staggered back as the blood sprayed from the wound, stomach-churning and fear of infection running through his mind. The infected woman dropped to her knees, blood-loss weakening her as her life faded away.
“Nice,” Dobbs said, moving across the bedroom. “She came through here.”
Dobbs went inside, raising the crowbar in his arms and thrusting it forward into the skull of the infected trying to climb through the window.
“Buggers can climb.”
“Yeah, not a good sign.”
“What you doing?”
Jack ignored the question as he turned all of the knobs on the oven, hearing the tell-tale hiss of the gas escaping. He nodded, once, to himself and turned as he heard something from outside. Dobbs, about to ask again, closed his mouth as he too, turned.
“The hell is that?” Jack asked. “Fireworks?”
“Gunfire!” Dobb’s eyebrows rose as he strode over to the window and stared out. “Fuck me. Some nutter is shooting them.”
“What?” Jack joined him, recognising the car straight away. “That’s Kyra and Dec.”
“The hot bird? The one that doesn’t like being called a bird.”
“Yet, you seem to keep doing it,” Jack said, smiling ruefully. “Yeah, her and my roommate. Guessing they found a new friend.”
The car had stopped a short distance away and a gun was visible sticking out of the rear driver-side window. Whoever was using it was a damned good shot and was taking their time to make sure they had a target before pulling the trigger.
With each shot taken, an infected fell to the ground dead and the others had noticed. Almost half of those trying to get inside the flats broke off and began running towards the car. A few more shots were taken before it sped away.
“They leaving?”
“No,” Jack said, nodding towards the road. “Stopping further away.”
More shots were fired and several of the infected went down. Jack almost laughed with relief until he remembered that they weren’t out of the woods just yet. He glanced back at the oven, still spewing gas, and grimaced.
“Come on,” he said.
Dobbs followed him back out of the flat and Jack closed the door behind him. He glanced at the thinning crowd, pleased to see that almost two-thirds had made it up. The two men re-joined Daz beside the door.
“All good?”
“Yeah,” Jack said. “I need to know if you two are gonna stick with me for this next part.”
“Nothing better to do,” Daz said, with what was almost a smile.
“I’m already covered in blood and shit, can’t see how a bit more will make a difference,” Dobbs agreed. “What do you need?”
“Whoever’s shooting out there, I can’t see them having enough ammo for all of them. Even if they do, their luck won’t last forever.”
He glanced back toward the lift to see the crowd had thinned even more. He nodded and sucked in a deep breath.
“As soon as everyone is up, this is what we’re gonna do.”
Chapter 33
Kyra caught an infected man a glancing blow that sent him careening to the side. She risked a glance back at the soldier who was taking careful aim, something she guessed was difficult in a moving car.
A gunshot rang out the acrid smell of a discharged weapon filled the car. She wrinkled her nose and looked for a gap in the mass of infected headed their way.
“Running out of space to drive here,” she said as she misjudged, and a body was catapulted up and over the car.
Too many hits like that and they’d be walking. Already the car was starting to show signs of damage from the repeated blows it had been taking.
“Not a lot we can do,” Dec said. “Can’t exactly park up.”
“No, but we can… hey, I see something happening.”
As they passed the front entrance of the block of flats again, there was renewed activity and like a plug had been pulled, the infected were pushing their way inside.
“Fuck,” Dec said, eyes wide. “You don’t think..?”
“They’re fine,” Kyra said, firmly. “They have to be.”
“Aye, if they’re not, then we’re fucked.”
Claire snickered at her own words and took aim once more. She’d already decided they weren’t going to survive and had chosen to die fighting rather than running. There was one bullet left that she would use on herself when she ran out of ammo. The others could do as they pleased.
“How many more can you take out?” Kyra asked.
“Six shots left,” Claire said, reaching up with one hand to touch the bullet stashed safely in a pocket. “Six and done.”
“Make them count then.”
****
Jack ducked a wild swing of an infected man’s arm and rammed his blade into its chest. Pulling it back quickly and spinning to slash it across the face of another. Going for their eyes was enough to make them rear back, he had found. It gave him precious seconds to step forward and drive his blade home.
Another infected fell and then another. All around him was chaos and blood, as the three men fought together. As soon as they’d moved the corpses from the doorway, the others had flooded into the entranceway.
It was everything they could do to keep from being swept under a wave of infected hands and teeth as they fought with a ferocity they hadn’t realised they possessed.
Slowly, step by step, they moved back towards the flat that Daz had called home. With each step they took, more infected came inside. If, even for a moment, they had fought less against each other in their urge to reach Jack and his friends, they would have been unstoppable.
As it was, each of them wanted to be the first to reach their prey and they pushed and shoved at each other to do so. It was the only thing that was buying the three men the time they needed.
Dobbs crushed the skull of an infected and took a moment to reach back and grab the door handle to the flat, turning it and pushing the door open. He risked a quick look to make sure the way was clear, coughing as the gas washed over him.
The scarves they wore would buy them some time, but not much. Daz tore an infected man’s jaw off with one swing of the axe and dropped back, into the flat beside Dobbs. Jack was next and the door was slammed shut.
“How long?” Dobbs asked, coughing as he held the door closed.
“A minute, no more,” Jack managed between gasps. “We can’t stay in here longer but need to allow as many in as possible.”
Daz stepped up to Jack and held out the axe.
“What?”
“Take it and give me the lighter.”
“No, why?”
“I’ll let them in,” Daz said, voice unnaturally calm. “You two get out.”
“We’re in this together,” Dobbs said. “Don’t talk shit, man.”
“This was our home,” was all Daz said in reply. “It’s my choice to do this.”
Jack coughed and looked at the steely determination on the other man’s face. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the lighter. It was a simple, green plastic one. Those cheap lighters you could get in any shop.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “About Alan.”
“Yeah, I know. Just go, yeah, and hope the sprinklers work.”
Jack took the axe and gave one final nod to Daz. It was a gesture of respect and a final goodbye. He grabbed the protesting Dobbs arm and pulled him towards the bedroom and the open window.
The infected took him by surprise, leaping on him and pulling him into an embrace as its teeth bit down on his shoulder. Dobbs reacted first, the steel crowbar crashing through the creature’s eye socket and into its brain.
“You bit?” Dobbs asked, raising the crowbar.
Jack, eyes wide in shock, pressed his gloved hand to the area, feeling at it. The material of his coat was torn, and he would likely have a bruise, but he didn’t think it had broken the skin.
“N-no.”
“Good. Let’s get the fuck out of here then.”
Dobbs went through the window first, landing heavily and swinging the crowbar like a bat at the head of a nearby infected. The force sent it careening into the wall with crushing force as the skull split wide open.
It was dead by the time Jack landed, coughing and spluttering as he tried to suck in some clean air.
Without speaking, the two men set off running towards the car park. It was the closest place with something they could hide behind and the two men practically leapt across the nearest car’s bonnet before sinking down to the ground.
Inside the flat, Daz stepped away from the door, retreating to the centre of the room. He coughed as he pulled down the scarf that covered his mouth and stared straight at the infected as they ran screaming into the room.
As the first reached him, mouth opening wide, he thought of Alan as his finger pressed down on the igniter and the world exploded into flame.
The roar shook the building and flame burst through the windows as they shattered. Debris was thrown up into the air and hundreds of infected died screaming as those not killed immediately, burned alive.
Dobbs and Jack were covered in shattered glass as the windows of the cars were blown out and their ears rang like a bell had been struck beside them. Slowly, they raised themselves to their feet and stared, open-mouthed at the destruction.
If the ground floor had been in any way recoverable, that was no longer the case. Flames raged inside the four flats while doors had been blown off their hinges. The sprinklers, fortunately, still worked and water was cascading down from the ceiling.
As they watched a few of the infected scattered outside the building, rose groggily to their feet and looked around, confused and dazed. Without words being needed to be spoken, the two men raised their weapons wearily and set about the gruesome task of finishing them off.
At some point, the car pulled up beside the road and four people got out. Jack was pleased to see Kyra and Dec and thought he recognised the blonde woman, but the soldier was unknown to him. He greeted them warmly, none the less.
“Thanks for your help,” he said, once introductions were done.
“Don’t look like you needed it,” Claire said with a savage grin at the strewn bodies. “Need a hand cleaning up?”
“Yeah.”
She nodded, shouldering her assault rifle and pulling free a blade. She moved ahead with Dobbs, searching amongst the bodies for any that might still be alive.
“A lot of infected will have heard that,” Kyra said. “We’re gonna need to prepare.”
“Yeah,” Jack said as he received a warm embrace from his roommate. “Gonna have to do something about Denis too. He could have got us all killed.”
“I’ll be happy to help you deal with him,” she said, face darkening. “But for now, let’s just get inside. I need a hot shower and something to eat.”
“As soon as we put the fires out,” Jack said, not quite able to stop the bubble of laughter that burst free. “Christ, I’m tired.”
“You should know,” Kyra said. “We tried to leave.”
“I don’t blame you.”
“No, I mean we tried to but weren’t able to. There are large numbers of infected everywhere and we saw what happened to the people they caught leaving. It wasn’t pretty.”
Jack stopped and looked at her for a moment, noting that she was indeed very pretty, but also cold and calculating. If she could have escaped, she would have. The fact that she came back was likely an indication that things were bad out there.
Slowly, he nodded and looked over at the tower block. Things were bad, but they had somewhere to live and food to last a few weeks at least. That would give them time to come up with a plan of some sort, a way for him to keep everyone alive until the world righted itself once more.
“Come on,” he said, not looking back as he set off walking, back straight and head held high. “We’ve a lot of work to do.”
Epilogue
The flat was crowded with little available space anywhere. Boxes were stacked on the floor, wide plastic containers full of food and medical supplies. Twenty-five-litre storage containers full of fresh water were stored floor to ceiling in the spare bedroom and there as a cupboard full of seeds.
Windup electric lanterns, torches, candles, basic tools of every shape and description filled the spaces in between the stacked boxes. There was little room for comfort, not that it mattered to the sole occupant.
A naturally slim man, he sat in the single armchair watching the bank of monitors before him. His face was hard, all sharp angles with no softness to it. His thinning hair was black and tied back in a small ponytail, while his eyes were a deep brown.
No one had ever said much good about him. Those who knew him knew enough to avoid him and those that didn’t, soon learned that they should. He was fine with that since there was little he cared for about other people.
Deacon watched the chaos on the ground floor through the cameras he had installed a long time before. Not quite legally, but without anyone noticing at least. He watched the four men fight and smiled as the first fell.
He wasn’t a man who enjoyed competition and he really disliked those who would tell him what to do. For a time, he had sat and watched and waited, ignoring the repeated knocking on his door. He had no worry that anyone would try and break in as he had replaced the cheap wooden door with one of steel.
Safe and secure, he watched and waited to see who amongst the people he shared a building with, would rise up to take charge. If everyone had died, he would have been fine with that, but if they were going to survive, then he needed to know that they were worthy of his skills.
Rising to his feet, he navigated the maze of boxes to the steel cabinet on the far wall. One, it seemed, had risen to the challenge and would likely prove a useful leader, if he could keep control. There were people trying to undermine him and take power for themselves.
That would not be allowed. There could be only one voice leading the others, and while he would prefer that voice to be his own, he would be content to follow another that would listen carefully to his wise counsel.
He pulled open the cabinet and stared inside, a smile forming on his narrow face. If they didn’t listen to him, well, then it would simply mean that he would have to step up and take charge.
Deacon reached into the cabinet and selected the pump-action shotgun. Illegal, perhaps, and if the police had ever had cause to raid his home he would have spent all his remaining years in prison. If not just for the guns, then for all the other nasty little things he had hidden away.
His smile widening, he slowly loaded the shotgun. He’d waited all his life for a shit hitting the fan scenario and now that it had, he was going to enjoy himself.
Note from the author.
There we have it, the first in an apocalyptic series. Our survivors are safe for the moment, but their food will not last long and with rising tensions inside the building along with an increased presence of infected without, there’s no guarantee that those survivors will be safe for very long.
I hope you enjoyed the story and will continue to read as more are released. For information on my other work, you can visit: https://www.facebook.com/KillingtheDead
Thanks for reading,
Richard Murray
Murray, Richard, The Rage (Book 1): The Rage
