The Dead Walk The Earth (Book 4) (2 page)

They stepped out from the shelter of the old building and descended the short flight of concrete steps leading down to street level. The night was damp from the torrential downpour that had left the land sodden with glistening puddles that reflected the twinkling moonlight. In the open, the air was crisp and filled with moisture and caused thick mists as they exhaled, forming wisps of pale clouds that coiled around their heads.

Al suddenly stopped and held out a hand to Tommy. They crouched down and took up fire positions. Al cocked his head.

“Unknown call sign, say again,” he whispered.

Tommy waited, watching the street and checking on the two wandering infected. They did not seem to be getting any closer. He turned to Al and raised an eyebrow.

“Ron, Al, radio check.” He waited a few more seconds. “Ron, this is Al, you’re difficult. Radio check.”

Al turned to Tommy and shook his head.

“I can hear Ron, just about, but I don’t think he’s getting me.” He paused and looked up at the rooftops. “Must be the buildings.”

“Or these prehistoric radios,” Tommy grunted. “We’d be as well using two tin cans with a long piece of string between them. Our comms are always shit.”

“It’s that fucking hideous head of yours, mate,” Al grinned back at him. “It scrambles the frequencies.”

“Fuck you.”

At the foot of the steps they stopped again and hunched down beside the low brick wall. Checking to the left they scanned along to the far end of the road and studied the numerous dark windows and gaping doorways that glared back at them. Their eyes took in every detail of the street as they searched for movement. After a moment, they nodded to one another, satisfied that they remained unseen. Moving in a crouch, they turned to the right, hugging the wall and headed towards the two misshapen forms that blocked their path. Using the rusting hulks of the vehicles that slowly decayed at the roadside for concealment, they edged their way forward while taking it in turns to move and cover one another, silently bounding from one obstacle to the next.

As they advanced, they made subconscious notes of everything around them—the entrances into the buildings, the dark corners, even the debris and litter on the ground that could be accidentally kicked, and in turn, give away their presence. They stalked their prey with the agility and stealth of lions and the subtle footing of ballerinas despite their size and the weight of their equipment.

Tommy and Al were seasoned veterans, but they had not allowed themselves to become overconfident through familiarity. They knew the area and every building, but they planned, drilled, and studied meticulously before every mission, ensuring that all possibilities and perceived problems were covered. They trained endlessly with their weapons, equipment, and their bodies, honing their skills and fitness to levels far beyond most soldiers. They had spent more time out beyond the walls than anyone within the forward operating base, but they would never allow their confidence to get in the way of their judgement. However, from time to time, accidents happen.

Just a few metres away the two bodies sauntered along the curb side. The rasp of their worn and tattered shoes scraping along the ground was the only noise in the area. The sound carried the length of the street, rhythmically grating against the hard asphalt as the leather and the dried flesh and bone within were slowly ground away.

Al and Tommy halted and paused for a moment. They watched the street, listened to the night, and sniffed the air, checking their surroundings. They remained unnoticed and were now within striking distance of the foul creatures that were just metres away. Peering past the car that they took cover behind, they saw the backs of their targets.

In the dim light, they could see the withered shapes of their prey. Their long bony arms hung at their sides, swaying in rhythm to their jerky steps. Their clothing, stained and frayed, hung from their emaciated shoulders and clung to their exposed ribcages, mottled and dull, just like the thin layer of skin that covered their bones and shrivelled organs.

At such a short range, their smell was distinct and unmistakable. In the early days, the stench of rotting bodies had filled the atmosphere, their flesh putrefying and the sickly-sweet and nauseating tang of decomposition had been overpowering for great distances, especially within the urban areas. Now after many years, the rot had slowed and the smell had lessened, but it was still enough to warn people in advance of the approach of the walking dead. The few survivors that remained were grateful of that fact.

“Okay,”
Al whispered, and nodded across to Tommy as he began counting down from three with his fingers.

As his final digit dropped to complete a fist, the two of them simultaneously and silently sprang forward, bounding across the wreckage of the car in front of them, and quickly closing the distance between them and the dishevelled husks of two former living people. They moved like flitting shadows, fast and silent, as they drew their long heavy blades, the razor sharp steel singing quietly as they slid from their scabbards, the polished metal flashing brightly in the glowing moonlight.

Tommy, wiry and more agile, was the first to reach his objective.

Without slowing, he raised his leg as he moved in for his attack, springing himself upward with the foot that remained planted against the tarmac and allowing his momentum to catapult him towards his victim. His elevated boot impacted with the centre of the figure’s back, launching its body forward. Its head snapped backward, and a resounding crunch rang out as the parched vertebrate of the spine was shattered in two.

With a dull metallic thud, the body slammed into a burnt out vehicle sitting at the side of the curb. It rebounded with its arms flailing, and landed in a twisted heap on the floor. Without hesitation and with perfect timing, Tommy closed in while bringing down his machete in a chopping motion and smashing it into the skull of the prostrate shape at his feet. The blade sliced into the bone with a sickening crack, instantly killing the creature and sheering off a large section of the skeletal face that stared back up at its assailant.

It was all over before it had really begun. It had taken just a few seconds for both men to deal with the infected, adding two more kills to their immeasurable tally. Both bodies now lay motionless, splayed on the cold ground, and in a death that was final.

The two soldiers paused and squatted by the corpses, remaining in cover as they searched the area for any sign that they had been detected while taking the opportunity to catch their breath before continuing. Though the assault had lasted for just a few seconds, the mixture of adrenalin and fear was still enough to cause their hearts to quicken and their breathing to increase. No matter how many times they went into battle against the infected, it was always the same. Both men understood that if the day ever came when they no longer felt fear, it would likely be the day that they would die.

Nothing stirred within the doors and windows around them, and after a minute, they raised themselves to their feet and edged their way towards the corner of a wall that looked out on to a junction in the road.

At the crossroads, they watched the area, desperately trying to see into the multitude of dark recesses that they imagined held all manner of horrors. The moon continued to cast its eerie glow across the land, bathing the roads in a luminescent grey light that reflected from the hundreds of puddles that covered nearly every surface. The dark corners, however, where the light failed to reach seemed to grow darker still, giving no indication of what lurked within them.

“Looks clear,” Tommy hissed over his shoulder, keeping his eyes on the street ahead of him. “How far is it?”

“About eight-hundred metres. Down this road and turn right at the end, then another two kilometres to the second objective.”

“You sure?” Tommy asked, adjusting the position of his helmet.

“Yeah, about that.”

They crept through the shadows, moving slowly and watching the buildings that towered above them on either side of the deserted street. A carpet of debris and decayed body parts littered the tarmac and concrete beneath their feet, always needing to be carefully negotiated. It would only take one clumsily placed step, and they could be swarmed by a mass of voracious corpses that would converge on them from all directions. They both knew this and had seen it happen all too often.

The air was still, and throughout the built-up area the silence made the slightest sound seem like a crescendo. In a lifeless city, there was very little in the way of ambient noise. Even the insects and vermin knew better and fearfully stalked through the shadows in silence. It was almost impossible to connect the new world to the old. The sounds of man were long gone, and even nature seemed to fear the dead.

Tommy could feel the hairs on the back on his neck prickle as they moved deeper into the city. He concentrated on his breathing, his eyes flicking from one building to the next, scanning the decaying cars and the detritus that littered the road.

A hundred metres further on they came to a destroyed barricade. They had seen it many times during their sorties into the town, but it never failed to unnerve them. There had been a valiant effort made to hold back the crowds of dead and protect the centre, but as always, the defences were eventually breached. The smashed cars, trucks, and piles of rotting sandbags stretched across the road, the bones and skulls of the defenders mixed amongst the rubble.

In the adjacent street a crash echoed out through the night air. The sound of glass shattering reverberated through the channelled pathways, being carried for miles on the wind as its tinkling shards smashed against the hard concrete and continued to ring out its high-pitched chime long after the broken panes had settled.

The two men froze to the spot and stared at one another and then at their surroundings, searching for any movement. Carefully, gripping their weapons tightly in their gloved hands and feeling their guts twist and tighten, they stepped to the side, away from the centre of the street and the moonlight, and into the dark shadow of a flight of steps that led up to the broken doorway of an apartment building. They backed their way through the tangles of weeds, becoming enveloped within the greenery as their fearful eyes and menacing rifles remained fixed upon the street.

As the racket of the falling glass dissipated into the atmosphere, other sounds began to fill the emptiness left behind. First, it was the faint scuffing sounds of feet being dragged along hard, rough surfaces. Then the thumps and bangs of objects being knocked aside and the clatter of obstructions being forced from someone’s path began to grow in volume. Soon, more sounds joined them, and the groans and wails of the dead began to fill the silent void left behind from the breaking window.

From every building and alleyway their long mournful cries rang out, growing to a crescendo as more and more joined them from every dark corner. Their shuffling feet dragged them forward into the street to investigate the noise that had destroyed the calm. All around Al and Tommy, the low sorrowful moans mixed with the shrill whines and groans of the city’s deceased occupants, rising like a tide that would drown even the bravest of men with terror.

The two of them watched from their hiding place with a mixture of fear and fascination, remaining perfectly still and silent at the base of the stairway as an army of dark and shadowy shapes emerged from every doorway and from behind every vehicle and wall, staggering into the road, and headed towards the disturbance. With their backs pressed to the wall and their weapons pulled firmly into their shoulders, the pair looked on in horror as a sea of mottled, festering husks meandered by them, tripping and stumbling into one another as they blindly followed the body in front, singing their droning lament as they advanced along the street. Neither of them dared to move, even blink, as the horde of corpses trundled by just metres away. They prayed silently, holding their breath as they watched and assessed the situation, making a mental note of their ammunition status and what they were capable of if the situation worsened. Both of them knew that, regardless of their weaponry, neither of them would last for long if they were detected.

There were hundreds of them now, having suddenly appeared from every corner and spilling out from the buildings as though they had been waiting in the shadows, poised to spring forward once they were given the signal.

Al and Tommy glanced at one another nervously. The dark shadow of the wall that they stood pressed against and the overgrown weeds that shielded them from view was their only protection from the horrific mass that slowly passed by them just beyond the foot of the steps they sheltered beside. They held their breath and felt the icy fingers of fear running along the length of their spines. It would only take one of the grotesque bodies to look in their direction with its pale lifeless eyes, and they would be trapped like rats with nowhere to go as the legion of flesh hungry ghouls converged upon them.

After a few minutes, but what had seemed like a lifetime, Al and Tommy watched the crowd pass them by and wander out of sight, their sound continuing to reverberate through the avenues and along the narrow streets, but the immediate danger had gone. A few stragglers continued to stagger along, crawling and dragging themselves through the detritus on mangled limbs, but the street was now mostly empty, leaving a trail of discarded body parts in the wake of the swarm. Legs, arms, and even heads, were strewn throughout the area, having been torn from their owners as the reanimated corpses within the throng had jostled and pushed against one another.