The Screaming (Book 1): Dead City (6 page)
The doorway was instantly swamped as bodies piled into the carriage and immediately launched themselves at desperate individuals, as they clambered over each other to escape the approaching animals. The white bloused woman collapsed into a ball on the floor and tried in vain to cover herself with her arms. The yuppie was pulled to the floor by a woman half his size, his briefcase sliding off under a seat. He yelled in defiance and swung a right hook at the woman, who, untroubled, dived onto him, thrusting her hand straight into his throat, several of her fingers popped and snapped from the driving force into his gullet, before quickly cleaving out a hand full of shredded flesh and packing it into her impatient mouth. Blood propelled from the yuppies gaping wound as he struggled and wheezed for breath.
Zac was petrified by the inconceivable slaughter taking place in front of his eyes. He reached his hand behind his back desperately rifling for a handle to the perspex door, but too terrified and mesmerised to look away and find the handle. He yelped in disbelief as a torrent of blood engulfed every surface, as peoples entrails were torn from their shell and demolished. The door handle suddenly filled his sweaty palm and he wrenched at it in shear desperation, but it failed to shift.
His attention was drawn to the woman in the once white blouse, as she suddenly shot to her feet. What was left of her right arm swung by her side, stripped almost free of tissue and muscle. Pain and fear somehow exorcised from her being, as was the colour, replaced by a pasty tone. She looked across and snared Zac in a hypnotic stare, as a tear of blood trickled down her pale cheek. Zac fought all his instincts, flipped around to face the cab door and planted a kick at the perspex pane…nothing.
He fired kick after frantic kick at the pane, until it suddenly cracked. He chanced a peek over his shoulder to see the woman charging down the carriage towards him, marching over bodies without breaking stride. He took a half step to his left and threw volley after volley of kicks at the crack. An almighty pop exploded as the pane gave way, and he wasted no time reaching through the gap made in the door, and feeling for the latch on the other side, which slid across easily. He threw himself through the door and turned to slam it closed as the woman hurled her body at it. Halted like a bug on a windscreen.
The woman instantly began hammering her left fist against the perspex window, the right arm hanging helplessly at her side, tendons severed and chewed. A penetrating shrill sputtered from her mouth, splattering blood on the terrifyingly fragile door and reverberating around Zac’s horrific cage. He looked around the cab with an overwhelming desperation for escape, as the woman’s cry bellowed on. He looked to his right and deep panic set in, as he realised the cab door onto the platform was wide open.
The lady driver was laid out on the platform outside the door, her bulky form torn open from neck to crotch. Her intestines hanging from the mouth of a waxen faced boy, no older than 13 years of age, who was crouched over her lifeless carcass. Zac slowly edged towards the door, still undecided whether to close it or run through it. But the boy had noticed the movement to his left and his head shot up from his meal, fixing his sodden red gaze on Zac. The boy leapt to his feet and threw himself towards the door. Zac’s previous indecision was now redundant as he darted forward grabbing the door and slamming it closed, with a clunk of the ageing door blot as it locked in place.
The feeling of relief was short lived, as more of the feeding monsters, teemed around the cab.
“Fuck off, leave me alone.” He yelled, as he felt his options evaporate along with his grasp on the reality of the situation.
He rapidly rubbernecked the cab, desperate for anything to aid his escape. A bright pink handbag hung over the upright of the driver seat, full of nothing but nail varnish and make up. The bag was quickly discarded as Zac continued his desperate search for a miracle. The perspex windows began to shake and crack as a boundless barrage of punches from all sides landed on the weakening structure. Screams boomed around the station as more and more shrieking beasts drained on to the platform, drawn by the call of their kin to the fresh hunt.
Zac had run out of options, arms stretched through shattering cracks in the windows as Zac edged his back side up onto the driver’s console. A small glimmer of hope flashed across Zac’s face as he spied a black fire extinguisher clipped to the wall above the bowing door. He sprung up grabbing the extinguisher and fumbling with the clips, like his first attempt at a girl’s bra. He freed his new Excalibur and immediately set about pulling the pin. He raised the coned nozzle at the carnivorous horde, and squeezed the lever, releasing a cloud of white fog as he waved it from side to side.
The extinguisher soon spluttered and coughed to nothing and had little effect except to ironically, fuel the fire of freaks, now engulfing the cab. Hands grabbed at Zac’s clothing, mere finger tips out of reach of their next meal. He raised the extinguisher and swung it desperately at the snatching clutches, creaking closer, with every crack of perspex. A spark of inspiration somehow found its way to the front of Zac’s overloaded head. He clambered onto the console, raised the extinguisher and released an immense attack on the front window of the cab.
He unleashed a despairing torrent of hits and the window exploded into a harmless confetti of small fragments of glass. Zac didn’t waste time thanking the god of health and safety legislation for safety glass, as he dove through the window frame into the pitch black tunnel outside.
He had landed hard in the darkness, sending a shuddering pain up the back of his right leg. He turned to look back into the crumbling cab, as the mass of ravenous bodies packed the carriage. The woman in the white blouse was pressed hard against the internal door, now lifeless. Crushed against the door frame by the frantic mass of bodies behind, contending for a chance at fresh meat. Zac turned and quickly hobbled into the darkness.
He soon found himself getting colder. The intense heat of the carriage was now sapped by the damp chill of the tunnel. There was little to see ahead, except a bright red light up on the left of the tunnel walls and the tracks disappearing into the black. Zac found himself walking backwards over the rocky hard core on which the tracks were resting, too distressed at the inhuman slaughter he had barely escaped in the carriage. The increasingly distant screeches amplified his fear of pursuers streaming down the dark tunnel behind him. He scrutinised every recess of the tunnel walls as he moved up the subway, fearful of hidden dangers and yearning for an exit top side to normality.
After walking what seemed like miles over the punishing hard core he came to a right hand bend in the tunnel.
A sign on the wall read, “MILE END 400 BRAKE.”
“A station.” Zac mumbled with apprehensive anticipation.
He hobbled on, his leg was starting to feel better, and no permanent damage from his stunt man leap from the train. Zac was no action man hero type. At school, he had always been picked last for sports and in the holidays, he would rarely go out riding a bike or climbing trees. He would sooner stay at home and watch Doctor Who, but even then he would daydream about being a Dalek, rather than the Doctor. Safer inside an impenetrable metal armour, than running around with a screwdriver. He wasn’t cut out for this situation, and he knew it. His musings were intersected by a salvo of ear splitting screams, cracking through the darkness from back down the tunnel. They were through.
“Oh shit!” he yelped as he turned and started running.
“MILE END 200 BRAKE”
He didn’t look back this time, he couldn’t. He focused on the light opening up ahead of him, as the next station came into view. There were no trains alongside the platforms, which neatly sandwiched the track bed in the middle. Each platform had a pedestrian tunnel leading up a large concrete staircase, there was little movement on either of the platforms and no obvious masses of blood thirsty freaks. So far, so good. He slowed to a cautious approach as he breached the tunnel darkness. He didn’t have much time before the pack baring down on him, would catch up. He edged out of the tunnel and ducked under the lip of the platform. He slowly raised his head and examined the length of the station on both sides, before quickly ducking his head down again. There were people at the far end of the left hand platform, but were they normal? He just couldn’t tell.
The sound of hundreds of feet crashing through hard core, drew ever closer. Zac found himself torn. Did he take the chance and expose himself to the people on the platform? Maybe they’ll help. Or maybe they’re like the others, hurtling their way up the subway. Zac needed to go to his safe place, inside that Dalek armour, but burying his head in the sand wasn’t an option. He decided he would take the chance and announce himself to the group. He skipped over to a small set of metal steps at the end of the platform. To the left of the steps was a large metal cage, containing a variety of electric junction boxes. The group of seven or eight people were all huddled around a bench at the far end of the platform, surrounded by a variety of bags and suitcases. They were normal. Zac instantly raised a hand and caught the attention of an elderly man in a long trench coat and trilby hat, who forced an inquisitive grin. Abruptly the man broke eye contact with Zac and turned his attention to the tunnel. Zac snapped his head to the right. Standing in the shadows of the tunnel arch was a young male, his face completely canvased in bright shiny red fluid, which coated his shirt and dripped from his fingers onto the track. They were here!
The young man glared at the group, who one by one, stood and looked back at him. His mouth slowly opened, revealing a cavity of broken teeth. He drew in a hefty chest full of air and exploded in a thunderously high, drawn out scream. Zac hadn’t been spotted, but it was only a matter of time. He frenziedly scanned his immediate surroundings, for somewhere to hide. The cage of electrical boxes behind him was locked with an ample padlock and his options were limited. Several more screamers emerged from the tunnel, shrieking in unison with the young man. Zac knew what was coming, and very soon.
The group of people started shuffling about and panicking. One girl ran from the platform, through a pedestrian archway and up the stairs, wailing like a hysterical Beatles fan. Zac pressed his back into the wall, his palms flat on the cold bricks at his side. He was cornered, the slightest movement would betray him to the emerging animals, only feet away. Then he realised his left hand was sliding behind the cage. He had stumbled upon a gap between the wall and the cage. It was barely wide enough to fit down, but before he’d even had a chance to consider it, he had quietly slid his backpack down to his side and quickly scraped himself into the dusty, cobweb filled gap. Barely able to breathe, with the cage grate pressing hard against his chest with every breath, he was trapped but cloaked in a dark shadow.
Suddenly a deluge of bodies exploded from the tunnel, some sprinting along the track, before leaping onto the platform in a single step, some clumsily catching their feet on the lip of the platform and sliding on their bellies before rapidly regaining their feet. Several ran up the rickety metal steps and filed past Zac’s dark corner, their eyes locked on the cluster of ensnared people, cowering behind the raised, defiant arms of the old gentleman, who was vainly trying to protect the group. Zac watched the mass of figures stream up the platform towards the group. He looked across at the old man, who was looking straight back at Zac.
The man slowly raised a finger to his lip and nodded at Zac. He clearly recognised there was nothing Zac could do to help. A tear formed in Zac’s eye and rolled down his face. He sniffed and blubbered as he suddenly realised. The group were all young teenagers, except for the old man. It was a school class, and the old teacher would protect them with every ounce of life in his body. Zac’s hands trembled uncontrollably with a blend of fear and anger. The group were soon shrouded under a throng of ever ravenous bodies, gashing and shredding at the fragile helpless teens. Their cries dwindled to nothing before they had barely begun, swiftly overwhelmed by the mass of bodies slicing at their flesh. Zac closed his tear filled eyes as tight as he could, unable to close his mind to the massacre.
Hours slowly passed and the pack gradually thinned, as small groups broke away in search of their next meal. Some ventured through the pedestrian archway, bounding up the stairs. Others rolled off the platform onto the tracks and skulked off into the dark railway tunnel, towards the next station. Zac had opened his eyes some time ago now, though he stared blankly into nothing, unable to focus on the grotesque real world. Slowly the thin cloudy vail started to lift with every blink and he started to zone back in. Shapes around him took form and he was soon back in the station, wedged tightly between the cold brick wall and metal cage.
The damp concrete platform floor was tinted a dark burgundy. Blood drained along grooves on the platform edge to a small drain. The walls were sprayed with a fine coat of dirty pink and brown droplets, which gathered on posters before trickling to the floor. Shredded clothing was strewn across the floor, with a large bright red mass of unrecognisable flesh and bone discarded in the centre. A faint ferrous odour hung in the stale air.