Deadfall a zombie apocal.., p.7
Deadfall: A Zombie Apocalypse Thriller, page 7
“What?” He looked back at what was approaching, including the old woman whose bandages were now falling from her bruised and slashed face, and was getting back up, using boney, vein infused legs. “Hurry!” he screamed.
Liz ran into the kitchen, grabbed her kitchen knife and ran upstairs to her room, pulling the wardrobe open. Throwing a small suitcase down onto the bed, she set about pulling clothes from drawers in a frantic rush.
“Hurry!” came the voice of James from downstairs.
She ran from the room, dragging her suitcase, descended the stairs, pulled the under the stairs cupboard open, and grabbed her winter coat and handbag, then returned to the dining room where he was struggling to push back at least three bodies with varying degrees of success.
Grabbing her phone from the floor where it had fallen, she gave her weight to one last push and they shoved the things back outside.
“Come on!” she shouted to him, both running into the hallway, where she grabbed the door keys from the hook on the wall and pulled the front door open. She almost fell back in shock. The old man she had seen earlier, was standing just outside the front gate at the bottom of the path, his yellow teeth and red tongue glistening in the early evening sun.
Commotion came from the dining room behind them. James pushed past her and without stopping ran down the path, pulled the gate open and kicked out at the old man, who fell back. Liz was right behind her neighbour and both ran between the abandoned cars, crossing the road and into the entrance of the other house.
CHAPTER TEN
JOE
The tannoy crackled a little before the man started talking. Joe had tracked the group of five youths make their way to the front of the rows of people, near to the furthest gate which led to one of several platforms.
The announcer continued. “Individuals with wrist numbers between three thousand four hundred and four thousand, make your way—”
It wasn’t clear who threw the first punch, but at least three people were fighting near the gate at the end of the rows, and everyone in the huge hall was watching.
Joe took a grip of the bottom of the metal shutter and heaved it upwards a few feet. Mathew slid underneath, then held it up from the other side. Joe crouched low and ducked inside. The shutter dropped to the ground with a crash, cutting off the sound of whistles and angry soldiers.
Joe reached into his pack and pulled out his torch but Mathew had already switched one on from his own backpack and was using the beam to illuminate small packets of sponge cake, which he then stuffed into his already full bag.
“We ain’t got time for this,” said Joe moving past him.
“Always time for cake. Even at the end of the world.” He squeezed a final packet inside and followed Joe as he moved behind the counter.
Joe looked at the white door, trying the handle but it remained firmly closed. “This city and country have come through worse before. They will again.”
“Yeah, but I think this time it’s different.”
Joe took another look at the door and frame. “Maybe.” He threw his boot at the lock area, where the wood immediately split. Another hit broke it completely and the door swung backwards to a small corridor.
Their beams of light illuminated two exits. One at the opposite end and another just to their right, which had ‘staff’ written in marker across it. They ignored that and moved straight to the furthest.
Joe listened to the painted wood then tried the handle, which to his relief turned. He pulled the door open slowly listening and also sniffing the cooler air.
They both looked into a wide hallway, with wooden crates and metal loading trolleys up against the walls. There were also a series of other closed doors.
Mathew pointed across the dusty area to another door, almost opposite and started to walk. “That one.”
Joe grabbed him by his collar and pulled him back, despite his protests which Joe quickly extinguished, and closed the door, then held a hand to his lips.
Before Mathew could respond the sound of footsteps echoed around the space outside. They quickly faded and Joe opened the door again.
Without speaking, they jogged across the corridor, getting to the other door, which Joe pulled open and they slipped inside.
Unlike the previous area, this corridor was smothered in darkness which their torches did little to cut through.
Joe walked forward, first down a small set of metal steps then along the narrow corridor, with its damp stained walls and musty smelling air. Booms rang out. The distant sound of trains carrying hundreds of people, moving along tracks. They moved down another set of steps arriving at a door which gave the impression of never being opened. Black grime glistened on its paint chipped exterior.
Mathew looked back to the way they had come. “You think there are any of the things, down here?”
Joe pulled the rusting handle down, which rotated with a clunk then a click. “Don’t know.” The rich smell of damp met them as Joe pulled the door open to a dimly lit tunnel with a curved roof and several pipes and cables running along the walls at waist height. A red plastic trash canister was on its side, some of its contents piled across small puddles on the floor. Cracks and booms continued to reverberate through the air.
Mathew pulled his tablet from his pocket, then tapped the screen, bringing it alive. He slid his finger across the digital map. “This is a service tunnel.” He looked to their right. “We go that way. Should lead us to another set…”
They both heard the clanging sound from somewhere up ahead.
Joe looked to the left. “We can’t go that way?”
Mathew checked. “No…”
Joe let out a breath, pulling his knife from his belt. “Okay then. Stay behind me.”
They began slowly walking.
“Have you killed one of them before?”
Images of the past few hours flashed through Joe’s mind, but it was all a blur. “I… maybe. I don’t know. You got any suggestions?”
They kept moving along the tunnel, which curved sightly to their right.
“In the movies, you have to destroy the brain… so go with… that…”
The tunnel straightened out. In the distance, the walls were lined with dangling cords and metal railings from the floor. Amongst them was a person, facing away from them. From the build a male in a bright yellow jacket and a helmet, who was almost lost to a sea of cables and metal rods.
Mathew leaned in close to Joe, whispering. “That door on the left. We need to go through there…”
Joe nodded and they walked quietly on, avoiding the puddles of green slime.
The man in the jacket whipped around. “Hey! Help! I’m stuck! I’m bleeding!”
Joe and Mathew froze like a deer in headlights, then Joe walked on, examining the mess of wires and pieces of metal covering the man’s lower half, which was stained red. “What happened?”
“Some damn animal, weirdest thing I’ve ever seen. I think it was a dog? It was caught up in these electrical wires. I was sent down here hours ago to investigate. I thought it was dead, so I started to cut it free, then it freaked out, brought all this stuff down on me. Had to fight it off, but it got me good in the calf. I tried the radio—” He held it up. “— but no one was responding. Like it was a bloody joke or something! I need to go to hospital! Then I’m going to… What?”
“You don’t know what’s happened?”
“Happened? What’s happened? Eh, why you two down here? You ain’t management?”
Joe and Mathew exchanged a brief look before Joe looked at what was holding the worker in place. He took grip of a piece of metal that had fallen from the wall. “What’s your name?” He looked at Mathew. “Help me try and bend this.”
The man winced. “Arthur. Arthur Bower. Seven bloody hours, I’ve been down here. I’m going to sue their arses off. That’s…” As Joe continued to try and untangle the warped wiring and pieces of masonry, the man spotted movement at the end of the tunnel. “Hey, looks like someone’s finally coming! About damn time!”
Joe looked in the same direction. Two figures were approaching, but unlike the Arthur, these weren’t wearing protective clothing, instead their clothes appeared to be completely unsuited for the tunnel.
“Oh, shit,” said Mathew.
Joe pulled on a stretch of metal, placing as much weight on it as possible, but it remained stubbornly in place, along with other pieces that the man’s leg was encased within.
Arthur looked confused as the man dressed in a hospital gown and elderly woman whose head appeared crooked, came more into the light. “What… the hell.”
Joe let out a breath of frustration at the slithers of steel and iron hardly moving. He looked back at what was only twenty-feet away, then with Mathew tried again. A rod gave way, coming free from a segment of brick, making the man groan in pain.
“Yes!” said Mathew then looked back at the two beings, now clearly visible within the lights on the ceiling. “We’re not going to get him out in time.”
Arthur looked at him then Joe. “Out in time? What’s going on…” He turned his attention back to those, now only ten-feet away. His eyes grew large and he started to pull and push at what was entrapping him. “Get me out of here!”
Joe pulled another piece clear and another, the man’s legs now being seen. “I’m trying!”
“What are those people?” shouted Arthur.
Joe could smell the dried excrement and blood on the nearby, staggering bodies. He pulled his knife free once more turned and charged forward, grabbing the man, who equally did the same, digging nails into Joe’s shoulder, causing burning to flow down his arm. He was surprisingly strong, but Joe shoved him against the pipes along the wall, and raised his knife to plunge it into the man’s chest, but hesitated. Was he really going to kill this person?
“Stab him!” Mathew cried out, while still struggling to pull Arthur free.
Joe needed confirmation of the impossible. He needed to know that the thing in front of him, wasn’t alive. The smell of rot wasn’t enough. He slashed the blade across the gown, cutting deeper than he wanted. The gown dropped, but rather than there being a spray of blood there was nothing but splitting of skin which wept yellow. Mathew’s scream broke Joe out of his confusion at seeing the man’s wound. He spun around to the woman, clawing at Arthur’s neck, which blood began to trickle from.
Running forward, he barged into her, knocking her to the ground, then leant his free hand to Arthur and with Mathew pulled the tunnel worker away from the wall, who grimaced in pain. Not giving the undead things a chance to get close, they pulled open the nearby door, and holding Arthur up under their shoulders, moved inside and closed the door behind.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
TIA
There was a shunt and jolt and the train finally came to a stop, with the kind of applause Tia had only heard on a plane before, on landing. She wondered why people were relieved. A train goes on tracks. It can’t get lost, and she couldn’t remember ever hearing about one crashing. How would it even do that?
The carriage was packed. The seats and aisles stuffed full of sweaty, smelly people. Some were crying. Some had bandages covering them.
The journey had been around two hours since they left London, and she had no idea where they were. Grandmother had said they were going somewhere safe, and not to worry because mum and dad would soon follow. Ella had also said she spoke to Tia’s father on the phone, when they were running away from the shop, being chased by the weird people and the even stranger animals. But she didn’t want to think about that time. Not think about the things she saw. The horrible biting and clawing. The cars that smashed into—
The train door opened and a soldier pushed on, between people. “Listen up. My name is Corporal Hatchet, and I’m in charge of your group. This station is secure. But we are stretched thin. When you get off the train, move quickly along the platform then into the car park and onto the coaches waiting. Under escort they will take you to the camp. If you need a pee or anything else, you’re going to have to hold it in until we get there. If all goes well, we should be at the destination within thirty minutes. The shutters will be pulled down on the coach’s windows. For your own sake and that of children onboard, do not lift them back up. Hope that’s all clear.”
A woman started asking a question but the soldier had already moved back outside.
Tia looked up at her grandmother, whose hand hadn’t left her own since they boarded. “Can you try and call them again?”
“Once we get to the camp. There’s no cell reception here. I’ve been keeping an eye on it.” They both stood, as did the people on the seat near the window.
Angry shouts came from somewhere up ahead.
“Stay close,” Ella said to her granddaughter.
When the tiniest of gaps opened up in the wall of people, moving along the aisle, Ella and Tia moved into it, and were swept along until they got to the open doors and stepped out onto the platform, which barely had any space left.
Tia stood on tiptoes, trying to see past the arms and torsos which loomed like a forest around her, but couldn’t see anymore than the top of a wall and a wooden ceiling of a building above. They started walking in step with everyone around them.
“Stay close,” repeated Ella, her voice trembling a little.
Her grandmother kept looking at the sky, although Tia wasn’t sure why that was.
They kept on walking, the crowd spilling out through a small opening in a fence, to where the ground became concrete. Tia guessed that was the car park, especially considering she could hear the sound of heavy engines and smell the fumes.
The group they were part of stopped and a soldier started talking again, although Tia couldn’t hear what he was saying. Something about needing to get to the camp before it got dark. Suddenly the smooth body of a coach appeared in front of them, and with her grandmother they walked up the steps, passed a rather overweight man with sweat stains over his shirt, then into seats. This time Tia sat near the window, although there was nothing to see other than a beige plastic shutter. Within a few minutes the coach was full, including people standing between the seats, and with a jolt the large vehicle began to move. From the motion and slight feeling of vertigo they were turning, then bumping up and down a little and the engine revved as they picked up speed.
She looked at her grandmother whose cheeks glistened within the overhead lights. “Are you ok?”
Ella rubbed her face and smiled. “Yes, yes. Quite alright. We’re safe—”
Tia managed to stop herself from crashing into the back of the headrest, but not so her grandmother, whose face hit the padding unencumbered.
Ella sat back, slightly stunned.
“Grandma are you—”
Gunfire opened up somewhere outside bringing forth screams and shouts from inside the coach. People ducked lower and the coach began moving again.
“It’s ok!” shouted the driver, over his shoulder. “We’re ok. No need to panic. The lads have got it covered. We will be at the camp soon!”
CHAPTER TWELVE
JOE
“This ain’t the way!” said Arthur.
He, Joe and Mathew stood in a dark corridor with moss covered walls and an arched roof barely above their heads.
Arthur leaned back on the wall. “I thank you for getting me out, and saving me from those two loons, but I think I’ll go my own way from now on.”
Mathew rolled his eyes, pulled his tablet out of his pack, brought it alive and navigated to a folder full of videos, then played one. He thrust the device in front of the fifty something man, who had stopped needing their help to walk some way back.
Arthur looked with disdain on what the video was showing. “What’s that meant to be? Some computer game or something?”
Joe looked at him. “I haven’t got time for this. I know it’s a lot to take in, pal. But it’s real. It’s happening and you need to get your head around it.” He looked at the younger man. “How much further?”
Mathew switched screens on the tablet, then looked past Joe to the end of the corridor. “It should be up here.”
“Ain’t nothing up there, but the exit to the old buildings near the canal. Why you want to go there?”
Mathew shook his head, scrunching up his face. “Wrong. I know where I’m going.” He walked past Joe, pointing his torch’s beam forward. “Follow me.”
Splashing through puddles that smelled of oil, they arrived at the final door. Mathew pushed it open, the metal door squeaking in doing so, then moved his cone of light around a dark room, which was a workshop of some kind. Tools hung on walls above worktops and canisters were piled up against each other.
“This is one of our tool shops,” said Arthur, walking into the room, moving to a wall and switching on a florescent light which flickered into life above them.
Mathew looked down at his tablet screen. “Shit, we must have taken a wrong turn.” He started panning and zooming the map.
Joe walked inside, looking at the man with the helmet. “Are we outside the station?”
“Technically no, but yeah, the tracks are behind us. The canal’s just outside. W—”
A series of muffled pops made Arthur duck and flinch. “My life. That sounded like gunfire!”
Joe quickly walked to the door which bordered papered over windows, and with a tug pulled it open. The round porthole windows of a long boat were directly in front of him. He peered around the door frame to the dark waters of a canal, which cut between towering modern office buildings. To his left, a small, narrow metal bridge crossed the waterway to the opposite side and more darkness.
He turned around as Arthur pushed past him. “Hm, seems a bit quiet for this time of night. Usually it’s all car horns and—”
A loud boom rattled the nearby windows and Arthur ran back inside. “Crikey, we at war or something?”
