Dead Winter: A gripping crime thriller full of suspense (3 page)

The stairs had given way halfway down, exposing a pit of roaring flames that wafted against the walls in furious anger. I punched the wall in frustration as the smoke filled my lungs once more.

Storming back into the burning apartment where the man lay dead, I grabbed the remnants of a chair and furiously smashed what was left of a window. Throwing the chair outside, I stepped out onto the snow-covered ledge where I stood precariously and shivered as the winter's cold breeze met my dirt-streaked face.

Looking down into the courtyard below, I saw my only chance of making it out of this scenario alive, a three-floor leap of faith into a large bunch of bushes. Surely the foliage would break my fall and avoid sustaining any serious injury. Swallowing my fear, I went to make the jump.

Evacuating soul.

The breath in my lungs froze in shock as my feet slipped from underneath me and my legs gave way, slipping on a patch of ice, I fell from the ledge.

The clear, peaceful blue sky was haphazardly thrown into my line of sight, with the wind whipping through my hair, the light faded as I fell into the shadow of the apartment complex in the courtyard below, but I didn't have time to notice as I felt a sickly blow and all colour and sensation was lost within an instant.

Chapter Three

First Day (21st December – 8:45AM)

White light. Was I blind?

The sun hung in the winter sky far above me. Reaching out towards it, I tried to grasp it in my hand for some reason, before bringing my hand to the side of my head, coming into contact with a thick, warm fluid that was trickling from a small gash on the side of my head.

Blood. I stared at my blood-soaked hand blankly, not even noticing the sharp, throbbing pain in my head. A few seconds that felt like hours passed by before I was snapped from my trance by a loud explosion, and the events of the morning flashed through my head as I came around somewhat.

My body ached with every tiny movement I made as I scrambled to my feet. Leaning against the concrete wall of the complex next to me, I slowly moved along it as chunk after chunk of debris fell from the sky into the snow-laden courtyard. The blood trickled down my cheek.

White noise.

Rubbing my eyes, I cast away the blurred vision I had acquired from my fall. A strange, twisted sight fell upon my aching eyes. There were people dashing down the streets in every direction as though their lives depended on their escape, even though they were well out of the way of any falling debris. I thought it unusual that they didn't crowd around the complex, or at least attempt to help me. Why did they do nothing?

I wanted something to take the pain away. I wanted an IV. Artificial veins, pumping the pain away.

I pulled out my phone from the bag and checked the display – 8:47AM?

I'd been out cold for around an hour and not a single person had noticed me? What could possibly make people so blind?

I wondered about that for a moment, still leaning against the wall. Holding my bleeding head in pain, I noticed a pattern in the running masses.

First, a group of people would dash across the street, looking behind them in panic, screaming. Then, they would be followed by another, smaller group of people that moved in a very peculiar manner, arms flailing.

Something was very, very wrong with this picture. Had I really been asleep for only 24 hours? Everything seemed strangely different in a way I couldn't quite put my finger on. I must have taken one too many sleeping pills, they were probably lost in the rubble by now.

Again, my internal monologue was cut short when I heard a small ground issuing from a man a few metres behind me in the courtyard, how had I not noticed him sooner?

Shuffling, the man behind me dragged his worn-out boots across the gravel floor of the courtyard. I called out to him.

"Hey! What's going on he-" I was cut off again, I hated being interrupted. What cut me off was myself noticing the man's disfigured features.

"Christ, are you okay!?" I uttered, there was something strange about the way he moved, about his maniacal mumblings and definitely something about his bloodshot, pure-red eyes.

Wait a second. Red eyes?

We've just lost cabin pressure.

The mans expression shifted drastically, opening his torn, bloody mouth and screamed in unintelligible rage. He dashed across the courtyard towards me with his arms outstretched. Somehow in the heat of the moment, I managed to forget about the pain in my head just long enough to execute a powerful kick to the mans stomach. The kick sent him flying back, skidding across the gravel floor.

What the hell?

More blood; it sprayed from his mouth as he hit the ground and slid. Coughing and retching as he jumped back to his feet, I began stepping backwards in fear, desperately looking for something, anything to make me feel less vulnerable.

My eyes locked onto a steel pipe, skewered into the ground after it had fallen from the complex, staggering over to it, I wrenched it free of its gravel scabbard, clutching it with both of my hands.

Round two.

The man charged towards me once more, but I was ready for it this time, strafing to the left. I planted a decently-aimed kick to his waist, sending him careening into the concrete wall. He slammed into it, his head whipped forwards and hit the wall from the side, and with a sickly crunch, I could hear his jaw snap in two before I raised the pipe high into the air and swung at his face.

Home run.

With that frenzied swing, I heard the rest of his jaw shatter, leaving his mouth hanging open lopsidedly. Turning quickly around on the spot, I dashed towards the exit of the courtyard and within a second, the sound of the man's maniacal screaming reached my ears again as he pursued me.

The echoes of our footsteps resonated in my head as I fled, I didn't have to look behind me to know the inhuman thing was still chasing me.

I turned the corner and ran. I ran until my muscles burned and my veins pumped battery acid. Then I ran some more.

Bare-trees and snow-covered pavement. Winter in the city.

I'd lost the crazy man for now, walking for what seemed like a few minutes down a series of side-streets, I stopped immediately when a group of people ran past me, screaming. They were followed by more people flailing their arms. Just what was going on? A voice called through the dim, bleak atmosphere.

"Over here! Quickly!" a rough voice called. The words resonated idly in my weary heard as I turned, struggling to locate where the voice was coming from. Fog was settling in the alleyways around me, or was it smoke? I couldn't tell any more, all I knew was that my head hurt. A lot.

After locating the source of the voice. I staggered towards the man and was hastily beckoned into a house.

The door clicked shut briefly, but was drowned out by the startling sound of several different types of lock closing. Yale, bolt-latch and bolt and chain locks were fixed to the door frame. The owner of this house must be paranoid or something.

The clicking echoed through the narrow corridor which was strewn with shoes and a leather waistcoat, left shredded across the carpet next to a patch of dried blood. Was this his house?

The screams of agony and fear from the outside world were almost silenced as I was beckoned further into the house. Standing anxiously in the lounge, the man turned to face me; his black hair was streaked with lines of grey, complimented further by the dust clinging to it, the dust so fine it resembled powdered sugar. He wore a black suit with a tie, which lay lopsidedly over his left shoulder. The sword and shield of our era.

Why did he look so familiar? I couldn't make sense of it as my head pulsed with pain, making my vision go blurry.

I wished I were dreaming, that none of this was actually real and it was just my subconscious revealing how twisted it really was.

I wished it were just the medication playing tricks with me. I wished this were a dream, a pharmaceutical nightmare that I would jerk awake from any moment now.

Pharmaceutical nightmares.

And that's when it hit me, we've regained cabin pressure.

This was Dr. Meadows, the man who had prescribed me my sleeping medication just under a week ago. He seemed like a completely different person now, but I was more glad to see him than I cared to admit to myself. I wasn't aware that he lived so close to me.

"Thanks for helping me out, Dr. Meadows." I slurred, staggering slightly as I moved to lean against the wall.

"Please, Ethan. Call me Dave." He replied, clearly remembering who I was, even though we'd only met the odd couple of times. My usual doctor was on vacation at the time of my appointment, I then wondered if she was still out of the country, away from this nightmare.

"What happened to your head?" Dave asked me, pointing to the trickle of blood running down the side of my head.

"I, uh. I fell three stories and landed on my head." I responded.

"You fell THREE stories? Jesus, Ethan. You're lucky to be in one piece, lemme patch you up." Dave exclaimed, opening up a cupboard to pull out a first aid kit.

My mind swam with countless thoughts, feelings and questions; making it spin so much I thought I might be sick as Dave wiped the blood off of my head and wrapped a bandage around my head.

The aged doctor in front of me was suddenly overcome with emotion, his eyes became watery and he was forced to hastily wipe them clear after realising he'd broken his cool, calm composure.

A symbol of the humanity that was dwindling in this distorting world I had yet to adjust to.

Dave helped me over to an old-fashioned armchair, which I eased myself into, clutching at the side of my head.

Sitting there, I found my gaze wander across the room, picking up every minute detail as they went. Eventually, my attention focused on a large photograph hung above the marble fireplace, framed in elegantly carved mahogany. In the picture, a family of the stood huddled together with warming smiles on their faces.

Dave, who stood near me who had just been wiping tears from his eyes a moment ago, was the man in the picture, in his suit and tie next to a petite brunette, who had he arms around a young boy no older than seven.

A stupendous realisation hit me harder than the fall ever could have as all the facts came to me, the blood-stains on the floor and walls, the torn clothing and the empty house. This was his house, and he'd lost all the things that made him feel the proudest: his family. My gaze fell upon his suit and I noticed a crimson substance smeared across the left hand side.

The pain went away. Emotional morphine.

He motioned silently for me to come over to the mahogany dining table in the room beyond the lounge. Approaching the table, I eyed a slightly battered map of the city, pinned to the table. A chef's knife lay over where the compass should be.

"The police have set up a uh, small barricade down this street here, some sort of preparation for evacuation as far as I can gather; to take us somewhere safe out of the city. Must be worth a shot." Dave uttered confidently, his voice trembling slightly as he pointed at a large street on the map before finishing statement. " Might just get evacuated before more of THEM start taking over the streets."

My mind span at that moment with a question that flooded my every thought to the point where I couldn't help but blurt it out.

"Wait, there are MORE of those things!?" was the question that spilled haphazardly from my shaking lips, a response was shot swiftly back to me, my worst fears confirmed.

We've just lost cabin pressure.

"Everywhere, they're everywhere, like rats! The city is FULL of them, and they're growing in numbers by the hour. Where have you been for the last day, kid?" Dave replied.

I felt my stomach sink at the news. Backing back into the armchair, I slumped down and held my head with shaking hands and stared at the floor.

"Asleep, my medication was a bit strong." I croaked.

The plan reeled through my mind, if you could even call it a plan, rather than a march to our own deaths. The seconds passed by, dictated by the ticking clock that hung on the wall, each tick sounded increasingly distant until I could hear it no more.

"Sorry about that." the doctor retorted.

Impatience got the better of me after a few minutes. Having lost all track of time, five hours could have passed for all I knew, maybe even five seconds. It didn't really matter.

Rising up from the uncomfortable armchair on which I had been seated, I paced across the lounge towards the blackout-style curtains that had been slung over the window. Ripping them over, I was almost blinded by the intense light that shone through. Adjusting to the light, my eyes fell upon the scene that was taking place outside.

Would all customers please take their seats, the movie will begin shortly. I felt as though I were in a cinema, looking through the screen at some strange, horrifying scene from a bad horror film.

The snow on the ground outside caused me to blink uncontrollably due to its brightness, so I slid the curtains together again and turned to face Dave in this dimly lit room which felt pitch black compared to the scene outside. He was biting his lip and running his finger across the side of the chefs knife that he clutched in his right hand.

"So, shall we make a break for it?" was what came from his lips as he stared at the map on the table. His face had long since drained itself of any colour, he looked as though he were planning to march to his demise on the way to his rescue.