The Screaming (Book 1): Dead City (12 page)

“Come with us?” We have a van!”

   Fee nodded and wiped her face as the two raised themselves to their feet. Fee looked up and gasped. Stood in the doorway was a male figure, silhouetted by the flashing lights behind.

“It’s okay, this is Daz.” Zac tried to reassure her, but her eyes just widened further.

“What’s up?” Zac was perplexed.

   He turned and looked back at Daz again, but this time, he actually looked. In the blinking lights he saw the thick red liquid glistening on his face, his blood filled eyes leaking down his cheeks, and his mouth hanging open. A kitchen knife handle was penetrating the top of his left shoulder, though he seemed unhindered. Zac instantly felt concern for Mark, but had more pressing matters. Daz took in a huge breath and the shrieking scream produced resonated over the dulled heart monitor beeps. But it quickly became apparent that Daz was calling for re-enforcements, as screaming shadows engulfed the flickering light and the sounds of stampeding feet echoed down the stair well from the floors above.

   Suddenly Daz launched at them, traversing the nurses station desk in a fluid bound, Zac swung the cleaver wildly, catching Daz across his shoulder, sending him spinning to the floor, it was a clumsy blow, but effective none the less, buying them two vital seconds. Daz was quickly regaining his feet, as other screaming beasts exploded into the room, sending the swing doors blasting off their hinges in a shower of splinters and glass.

“This way.” yelled Fee.

   She took Zac by the hand and pulled him passed a trolley of medical equipment, Zac pulled at the trolley as he bounded past it, sending it toppling and equipment coasting across the floor in a futile attempt to slow the charging mass of bodies. Fee dragged Zac into a small side office marked, CONSULTANTS. Zac slammed the door behind them which was immediately bombarded by countless flesh hungry creatures, led by the ginger youth. Fee moved behind a large wooden desk, rested both hands behind it and pushed with all her might. The desk slowly edged towards the door and jammed in place, wedging the door closed.

“What do we do now?” Fee barked.

   Zac rushed to the window, the van was still sat where he’d parked it, its new burgundy paint job, glistening in the morning sun. The passenger door was open, Mark had gone, but was he okay? Zac scanned the hospital grounds from his limited view point, for any sign of the troubled young man. Nothing.

“We can get out of here. The van is just over there.” Zac exclaimed as he set about opening the large double glazed window.

“Quickly.” Fee was starting to panic.

   The hammering on the door gradually began to ease off. Zac slid the window up and scurried through, turning to assist Fee through the narrow gap. The hammering had stopped. Zac quickly realised, they were coming around.

“Smart bastards. Run!” Zac headed off across the car park to the waiting van, closely followed by Fee.

“Get in.” he shouted.

   The pack of hunting screamers hit the pavement with an echoing thud as hundreds of feet bounded across the ambulance bay towards the motionless vehicle. Zac turned the key and the van spluttered into life. Fee had barely managed to sit in the passenger seat when the van jerked forward and took off through a field of advancing ravenous automatons. Gluttonous predators pelted to the kerb like skittles as the van fought its way through and flew off down the road.

“Fuck, Fuck, Fuck.” Zac cried as he released his anger on the steering wheel with a volley of punches.

“It’s my fault. They’re gone and it’s my fault.”

“It’s not, you have no control over this.”

“I made a promise.”

“Look.” Fee flung her arm up pointing to a large bus shelter on the side of the road.

   On top of the bus shelter, frantically waving his arms was Mark. Grinning from ear to ear. Zac slammed on the brakes and jumped straight out of the car, completely and dangerously disregarding his immediate surroundings. Mark lowered himself and hung from the side of the shelter before dropping to the road and running over.

“Where have you been? You scared the shit out of me!” Zac scolded.

“Daz, bad.” Mark sniggered out a whole sentence.

“Get in. Mark, meet Fee.”

   Mark excitedly ran around to get into the passenger side, only to see Fee sitting sheepishly in the seat.

“Hello, Mark isn’t it?” Fee offered.

   Mark’s smile dropped from his face and he edged his way around the back of the van and climbed in to the rear, where he sat with his arms folded, like a kid denied ice cream. The van crawled through the streets, passing burning vehicles, homes and shops, bodies littered the streets, blood sullied the gutters and drains on the road side. The putrid smell of death and excrement loitered in the vents of the van’s air conditioning.

“What about the airport? We can fly out! There must be a plane.” Fee pleaded as they cruised past a sign for City Airport.

“Can you fly? I can’t!” Zac mocked.

Mark chuckled, enjoying the opportunity to mock the new addition.

“We need to get across the river. It might not be so bad over there!” He continued.

“Okay, head west, the tunnels to Greenwich aren’t far.” Fee smugly grinned back at Mark.

Chapter Nine

   The spluttering van chugged up onto a fly over. The rusting old vehicle had taken a beating, but was just about managing to labour along. The city fell away as they crawled up onto the raised road way, slowly edging along. Fee looked out across the river, desperately hunting for sanctuary on the other bank. Untethered boats bobbed about along the river, clattering into one another, floating escape plans, hastily abandoned and over run.

   They hobbled past tunnels and bridges, one by one. Potential routes to the south bank, barricaded, with cars, forsaken make shift military check points and the corpses of refugees, caught in the fleeing. A sea of bags, suitcases and baggage littered the landscape and parted like waves under the vans slow moving wheels.

   On the roadside, a man stood tall, uninfected, but his blood stained clothes and bruised, cut flesh told a story of a now broken man’s harrowing few days. An empty shock filled look clung to his face like a mask. He had clearly given his all. He held aloft a small child, a girl, her limp shredded form seeped over the man’s head as he held her up towards the van, in a last ditched attempt to gain the sympathy of the occupants of the approaching vehicle.

“Stop the car.” Pleaded Fee, but the speed of the old van stayed at a steady 10 mph.

“What are you doing? Stop the car.”

   Fee scrutinised Zac’s face as he looked straight ahead, refusing to visually take in the man’s plight. Mark shifted his gaze between the two like he was watching an engrossing rally of tennis, waiting for the first to falter. Fee’s scrutiny turned to a look of disgusted disbelief, as Zac adjusted his grip on the steering wheel and pushed on.

“We can’t.” Zac managed to blubber through the lump forming in his throat.

   Fee slumped back into her seat and crossed her arms like a stroppy child, tears rolling down her cheeks as she buried her face into her sleeves. The van rolled on over the fly over. Below a pack of roving screamers hurtled through an underpass in pursuit of some unfortunate prey. Further along, another pack stood rigid at the river side, entranced by the billowing smoke of a burning row of shops. The van passed by high above, with the absorbed horde oblivious to the slow moving vehicle overhead.

   Steam gushed from the beat-up van engine, as it spat and spluttered, before the old wagon cut out and coasted down the end of the fly over. They creaked to a halt in the middle of a straight road.  Buildings on both sides burned in a bright orange display. Thick, heavy black smoke drifted across the road onto the river.

“What do we do now?” Fee broke the still silence.

“Run!” Another rare word from Mark, but never was a scarce word from the boys mouth more important.

   His face was glued to the rear windows of the van, his eyes locked on the tsunami of screamers, surging over the fly over. The wall of broken, blood soiled bodies surged down the hill, the small defective van locked in their sights.

“Go!” Zac blurted as he scrambled for the door handle.

   Fee was first out, followed by Zac, Mark finally broke his gaze, jumped out and all three sprinted off in to the choking black smoke. Their eyes stung and a heavy mixture of burning plastic and rotting flesh filled their lungs. The sprint was quickly dragged down to a blinded fumble through the darkened landscape, before bursting through the other side into light and fresh air.

“This way.” Fee veered off to the left towards a large road tunnel.

   The single road, sloped downhill between two large brick covered banks, up to an old Edwardian arch. As with the other tunnels, dismissed as potential crossing points, ROTHERHITHE TUNNEL was also fronted by a scene of shed belongings, vehicles and minced corpses. Regardless, Fee bounded and clambered over suit cases, torsos and car bonnets then flew into the darkened tunnel. Zac hit the barricade and started to traverse the many obstacles.

   An ear splitting scream, from behind sent shivers tearing up Zac’s back, it wasn’t a screamer. It was Mark. Zac flung himself round losing his footing over a mangled mountain bike and collapsed in a tangled heap on a carpet of body parts and entrails. Mark had been pinned to a car bonnet, by one solitary beast, with the first of the main pack also about to pounce.

“MM…” Zac quickly muffled his call.

    The beast had sunk its teeth deep into Mark’s neck, blood jetted from the wound covering the attacker in a crimson shower. Zac was like stone as the horror unfolded before his eyes, helpless to do anything but watch. The monster raised its head for a triumphant shriek into the air. Its blood stained head, topped by blazing ginger hair. It was then that Zac realised. It was Daz. As Daz’s teeth sliced at Mark’s skin, Zac’s eyes were locked with Mark’s. Zac could feel the burning anger inside building, tears formed in his eyes and he blinked them off to maintain the eye contact with Mark. But he noticed something else in the boys tortured face, His eyes reddened and blood erupted from his mouth. Suddenly Mark broke eye contact, and let out an all mighty shriek together with the remnants of his distinctive cry. He was turning into one of them. It was too late.

“No. How is that possible?” Words on the tip of Zac’s tongue, but he was unable to speak.

   The pack of pursuers rounded the corner from the smoke filled street and immediately set about tearing into Mark’s flesh, ripping at muscles and soft meat alike. Stringy tendons peeled from blood soaked bone and internal organs protruded through forming cavities. A feeble struggle quickly turned into a defiant resistance as he changed into the kin of his attackers, but it was too late to stop the feeding, and as more and more flesh was torn from his bones, defiance dwindled until his lifeless body slumped.  

   Zac was empty, he had nothing left to give. The cleaver dropped from his hand, and the blade embedded itself in the fleshy mass at his feet. More and more predatory cannibals found their way from the smoke, and adjusted their blood filled eyes for the light, before locking their sights on Zac. But Zac didn’t move, he had used everything up. Lost everything, in such a short space of time. His mum, Emma, Mark. What was left? But it was then, he felt a soft hand on his shoulder. He turned his head, to see Fee’s breathless face smiling back at him.

“Come on!” She softly mouthed.

   Zac reached out and gripped the cleaver, raised himself to his feet, took Fee by the hand and turned to the tunnel.

   The dark bowing brick walls, arched to a key stone of strip lighting that lined the length of the cold underpass. A single lane road concealed under a chain of cars, trucks and buses, stretched ahead into the darkness. The strip lights glowed and flickered as the last remanence of power seeped through the grid. Green emergency lights lined the walls, but offered little lighting. Zac took the lead, he gripped Fee’s hand tightly, a new determination burned through him, diluting his anger and fear. He was resolute, he wasn’t going to lose anyone else, he was going to get them out of there and he was going to get back to his dad.

   A chilling breeze blew through the tunnel as they quickly weaved their way through the labyrinth of vehicles. The cold silence was soon broken, as the echo of panting hunters, breached the barricade and flowed into the tunnel yards behind. The crash and thud of flexing metal and smashing glass resonated in the walls of the enclosed burrow, as the looming multitude of hungry infected, took to car roofs and bounded from vehicle to vehicle.

“They’re coming!” A panicking Fee pointed out the obvious.

“We need to hide.” said Zac, as he frantically tried car doors.

   They knitted their way through an assembly of crashed cars until suddenly they found the path blocked by a large articulated truck. Panic draped itself over them like a burning shroud.

“Quick, underneath.” Zac pointed under the trucks’ large tail end, a pitch black cavern, framed, by large wheels, plastic mud guards and a collection of obscure crude bumper stickers. They dropped to their bellies and crawled under the languishing juggernaut. No sooner had they melted into the darkness, a pair of lacerated woman’s legs bounded to a halt at the rear of the vehicle. The teenage hunter skated from side to side, sniffing the air, desperate to pick up the trail. Zac and Fee froze, their breathing felt like a gale in their heads, and their hammering hearts a dinner bell. Even their aching muscles seemed to be wailing out loud. 

   Suddenly the stalking girl caught something in the air, and shot off at speed, bounding across the bonnet of an adjacent Jeep and over towards the far tunnel wall. Zac and Fee slowly released a controlled exhale, but it was short lived, as no sooner had the girl evacuated the space behind the truck, it was occupied by two males. One had been smartly dressed, a Hugo Boss suit, while the other, looked to have been a homeless vagrant. Two men, who in any other circumstances would never been seen side by side, let alone working together, they were more alike now, than different. The residue of recent feedings caked their hunched frames and blood dripped from their mouths, falling inches from Zac and Fee’s darkened cover.

      The sharp creases in the well ironed suit trousers, started to tighten around the knee, as the business man, lowered himself into a crouch. His fire filled eyes burned into the darkness under the truck. Zac and Fee lay petrified, both physically and mentally, not even daring to swallow as the lumps built in their throats. Had he seen them? That question was quickly answered, as the young city slicker, screeched a high pitched blood filled spray at Zac and Fee.

“Fuck, go, go.” Zac cried.

   They crawled deeper under the truck, leopard crawling along grit filled tarmac, skin was sliced from their elbows and knees as they hysterically clawed their way under the truck. The tunnel came to life as hundreds of legs bounded across cars towards the latest food source. The truck was almost instantly curtained on three sides by a veil of bodies, crazily scanning the darkness for the fresh meat. Only one side of the truck was unobstructed by bodies. The skins of the trucks fabric walls were only inches from the cold bricks of the tunnel wall.

   The darkness was moving in fast as the beasts edged closer and closer under the truck, broken fingers scraped and scratched forward, slowly pulling them closer to their meal. Finger nails splintered and skin was torn from their desperate limbs by the sharp inhibiting road surface.

   Zac reached the wall first, turned and started to pull himself up the skins of the trucks side. He was closely followed by Fee and the pair were soon clambering up, barely able to catch their breath, as the wall and the truck pressed on their chests. Limbs soon breached the gap below, grasping for a hold on trailing legs. Zac hit the roof first and immediately flipped over and reached down to Fee. Suddenly her face reddened as pain shot threw her body and exploded into her synapsis. She growled with agony. Zac grabbed her arm and pulled with all that remained of his strength, levering her through the gap. She burst onto the roof top in an exhausted heap.

“Are you okay? Were you bitten?” Zac anxiously examined her legs, for signs of a bite wound.

   Fee quickly examined her pulsating thigh, unsure even herself what had caused her such pain in the scramble for safety. She was strangely relieved to see three gouges in the flesh of her thigh, blood was trickling down her leg from three claw wounds, but then something happened that perplexed Zac. She started to laugh.

“What? What is it?” he quizzed.

“Look, they can’t get up!”

   Zac peered puzzlingly over the edge of the truck. Soon he found himself laughing too, a grotesque hysteria had set in and it was a moment of emotional release that, though started with laughter, quickly dwindled into tears. They hugged and cried into each other as screams ricocheted through the tunnel. The truck was quickly being mobbed by more and more frenzied creatures, clashing and skirmishing for position around the base of the vehicle. With a moment to compose himself, Zac quickly realised he no longer had the cleaver, he didn’t recall losing it, but must have discarded it in favour of a grip on the trucks skin or leverage through the underside. But not only that, as thirst started to consume him once again, he realised the backpack was still in the old van. As stupid as he felt for losing his supplies, he soon realised that he would probably have gotten stuck under the truck if he had remembered them. Fate perhaps?

   The steady pitch of the swaying vehicle gradually dwindled, as the infested masses renounce their positions in the coating of bodies surrounding the truck. An eternity had passed and the motion sickness had left nothing in Zac’s already baron stomach. As they lay motionless on the top of the truck, nursing scrapes and cuts, their minds wandered, thoughts of family, friends and loved ones lost. Occasionally and ashamedly their minds would be ambushed by prayers for some poor unsuspecting victim, who would unwittingly stumble into the tunnel and lead the freakish killers off on a long, but ultimately deadly pursuit.