When There's No More room In Hell: A Zombie Novel (8 page)

Their clothes hung from them as though they no longer fit, or had been worn for so long
that they had become loose and shabby. Discoloured with dirt and blood and ripped and torn from a struggle.

Flies swarmed around the mass. Already, their colour had begun to change. Many of them pale and grey looking with dried
, encrusted, almost black blood on visible wounds. Some were naked, or close to it, with hideous gouges in their flesh and swollen limbs. Where the blood had coagulated, their skin turned purple and made them look even more grotesque. Others looked fresh, and other than their wounds, looked almost normal. But it could never be doubted for what they were; their gait was unmistakable, shuffling and staggering without regard for the path or objects in front of them.

They were dead
.

The entire group seemed to focus on the house. Their heads held up, their eyes fixed on their goal
, steadily shuffling against the body in front, no doubt causing the ones at the head of the group to be squashed against the walls of the house from the weight behind. Now and then an individual infected would stop, raise its hands and let out a longing moan, flexing its fingers in an attempt to reach the house or something unseen to the others, doubling its efforts to reach the building while dragging and shoving at the bodies in front.

The banging, slapping and thumping continued. The wet slap as a bloodied palm or what was left of a mangled limb attempt
ed to beat its way through the door. The thump as a body slammed against wood and the shuddering bang as hands smacked against windows.

Steve pulled his head back. His vision blurred and he felt the bile rising in his throat. He had seen a couple of bodies before, but they were of friends or relatives
, embalmed and laid out in the funeral home dressed in their Sunday best, or gruesome images he had seen on the internet. But he had never seen so many in one place. Never had he seen the discolouration and grisly wounds with his naked eye. Never had he smelt the pungent odour of dried blood and the initial onset of decaying flesh. And never had he seen them walking about.

He looked at Sarah then quickly peeped around the corner again. Someone was in the house, he knew it. Maybe a family, maybe kids. His head swam. What was the right thing to do? He gripped his hammer and looked at it, hoping that the answer would come to him. Then he glanced back at Sarah and remembered,
‘we have to look after ourselves’
. With a sinking feeling of shame, he moved back to Sarah.

“There’
s a load of bad people around the corner.” He waited for a sign of panic from her, but she just watched him. “They don’t seem to be interested in anything else except for a house further down, so when we move, move slowly and keep hold of my hand. Don't talk and don’t make any sudden movements.”

Sarah nodded, tight
-lipped and eyes-wide. He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze.

As they were about to stand, an inhuman screech erupted from the right
, followed by the sounds of feet running and slapping against the tarmac. Steve froze and held a hand on Sarah, forcing her down to the pavement.

Two infected, foaming at the mouth and arms raised out in front of them
, were heading in their direction. Steve wanted to run, but in a moment of self control he quickly assessed the situation. Gripping the hammer, he prepared himself for the attack. Soon he realised that he wasn’t the target and from the trajectory of the two screaming figures, he realised they were headed straight for the crowd.

They ran straight across the junction
down the middle of the road, not more than five metres in front of Steve, and kept going, their momentum never slowing. He followed them with his eyes and watched in horror as they ploughed headlong into the mass of walking corpses. The two ‘runners’ didn't seem to pay any attention to the other infected, other than the fact that they were obstacles in their way, and began pulling and throwing bodies out of their path as they tried to reach the house.

But the dead paid attention to them. Dozens of the crowd surrounded the two and closed in until Steve could no longer see the
two infected sprinters who had just passed him. The dead enveloped them and tore into them, biting and gouging at the flesh on their bodies. Even from where he was, Steve could hear the crunch of bone and the ripping of clothing and skin. Some of the crowd broke away and moved off carrying chunks of flesh or severed limbs, chewing frantically as though in fear of having their prize taken from them.

Less than a minute later and the crowd surged back at the house. Steve remained crouched, slack
-jawed and wondering what he had just witnessed. He looked back at Sarah as if to ask what had happened. It dawned on him, what he had seen was two of the aggressive strain infected. Still living but oblivious to the dangers, they had been hell-bent on reaching the people in the house and the dead had seized and ate them.

They had to move.

Steve steeled himself and breathed deeply. His heart was pounding in his chest and his legs had begun to shake and feel weak. Sweat dripped from his forehead and into his eyes. It was a warm late spring morning, but it wasn’t the heat that was affecting him. It was pure fear. He wanted to run away, bury his head under the duvet and imagine he was safe, but he had Sarah to look after and he needed to keep a tight grip on reality.

They stood together and steadily walked toward the corner. Slowly
, they emerged into the junction and open view of the street to the left and right. They kept their faces toward the floor and with his eyes raised; Steve watched the opposite side of the road and the street ahead, painfully and slowly, come closer.

In the middle of their path was what looked like a slab of meat from a butcher
’s stall, red and glistening in the sun; the flies had already began to swarm over it. As they got closer, Steve noticed the yellowed skin still clinging to the meat and what looked like part of a tattoo. He couldn’t tell which part of a body it was; only that it had belonged to a living person once. It made his stomach churn and he gripped Sarah’s hand even tighter. He glanced from the corner of his eye, without moving his head, toward the crowd and was relieved to see that none were moving in their direction.

They stepped over the remains and continued to the other side. Once safely across, Steve pulled Sarah close and they crouched, hidden by the wall of a garden.

He whispered in her ear, “Okay Sarah, we’re across.”

He looked back around the corner and watched the crowd for a moment. He noticed
a glimpse of movement in the upstairs window of the large house, and the infected seemed to notice it too. They became more excited, agitated, and surged toward the front wall of the house.

Steve once again felt like there was so
mething he should do. But what? What could he actually do to help? There were too many of them and he wasn’t ready to start risking Sarah’s, as well as his own life, for the sake of strangers. He swallowed hard and moved on.

They continued through the housing estate. They saw bodies here and there with heads missing; others without limbs, pools of blood were everywhere and the buzz of flies and other insects feasting, was thick in the air. Burnt houses and cars littered the streets and they were forced, on a number of occasions
, to detour around groups of infected. They saw uninfected people loading their cars and trucks, making a break for it. Others were dazed and confused and stood in their gardens, or walked along the street, watching others.

Cutting down an alley
way to avoid a street packed with more walking bodies, they were scared out of their skin by a dog that lunged at them from behind a fence where it was tied up in a garden. Steve considered setting it loose, but with the state of its mind unknown, they couldn’t risk it attacking them. For all they knew, it would be completely insane with fear so they left it behind, moving quickly before the noise of its barking attracted the attention of the infected.

At the far end of the alley they came to an open area. A row of shops
sat about fifty metres back from the far side of the road. The large windows were smashed and it looked like they had been looted. Steve didn't even consider taking a closer look on account of the scattered infected that he saw in the street.

To back track
now would mean them heading into a possibly larger crowd of them. The only choice they had was to run across the open ground and, hopefully safety on the other side of the row of shops. He gripped Sarah in his left hand and wielded the hammer, ready to swing down on anything that stepped into their path.

Together, they ran. They didn't need to sprint
; the area wasn’t overly crowded but they needed to expose themselves as little as possible. As they broke cover, the shambling figures saw them and turned in their direction, moaning and wailing as they advanced. Steve tried to block out the sounds as he ran, knowing they would follow, and he focused on the far side, pulling Sarah who was whimpering now.

His heart was beating at his chest wall as
if it wanted to jump free and run to safety by itself. In his ears, he could hear his blood pumping through their veins and his breathing was fast and heavy. The tingle in his spine forced him to keep going, as if a hand was just inches from grabbing his jacket and pulling him back.

They reached the row of shops and turned right, paralleling them
, heading for the corner to the next street. A crash to the left and it was almost too late when Steve saw the figure emerge from the last doorway and lunge toward them.

Its pale
, wrinkled, bloodless hands outstretched, its mouth agape, showing a black, swollen tongue and bloodstained teeth that snapped shut in anticipation. The dead, flat, fish-like eyes set on Sarah as it quickly closed the distance between them.

Steve turned his upper body to face the threat, pivoting on his leading leg and sw
inging Sarah quickly out of the way. At the same time he brought his right hand, raising the hammer, in a wide arc, aiming for the man’s head. Still focused on Sarah, the creature didn't notice until the shock of the glancing blow from Steve sent him crumpling to the ground. Steve quickly stepped forward and brought the hammer down a second time and drove the head of the tool into the man’s skull, the vibration shooting up his arm, jolting his elbow with the sudden halt in momentum.

He felt the bone give
with a sickening crunch, and the body became limp. Its head hit the floor and Steve’s arm went with it, still holding the hammer. It was firmly embedded and he had to angle the handle and push the hammer free, releasing a fetid odour and globs of clotted blood and brain matter.

Without a second thought, he turned and pulled Sarah along. She had become heavier, as
if he was dragging her through treacle. Before any more infected could get closer, they had turned the corner and into a playing field that opened up before them. It was the start of the nature reserve.

They
ran to the top of a small hill and stopped to catch their breath. Sarah was clearly shaken and in some shock. Steve stood panting with his hands on his knees. “Hey, remember what I said? You were bound to see something like that sooner or later.”

Sarah blinked, and looked in
her father’s eyes, as though suddenly shaking off the trauma of what had just happened. “I know, Dad. Just didn't expect it.”

She was strong, and Steve could see that she wo
uld recover after a quick rest, though he did worry about the long term affects on her young mind.

“Okay sweetheart, I understand
that. Have some water then we’ll get moving again. Hopefully there won’t be too many surprises between here and aunty Jen’s house.”

For hours they played hide and seek with people and infected alike. Hiding in bushes away from the tracks, or taking
detours, they trekked through the wilderness. The day had turned into a hot one and Steve had to force himself to keep his jacket on. As far as he was concerned, it was more protection from attack. If it were up to him, they would be wearing suits of armour.

Sitting in the shade of a small wooded area, they rested and ate some cold beans between them. Sarah didn't feel much like eating but he insisted
, telling her she needed to keep her energy levels up.

“Sit here buddy and keep quiet. I'm just gonna move back to the track to check
that the coast is clear. I’ll only be a minute and you'll still be able to see me.”

Sarah looked scared but she trusted
him and did as she was told.

Steve pushed on t
o the dirt path and came out into a small clearing surrounded by trees, the path leading back in to the dark shade on the other side. He crouched in order to see the horizon of the path and to make sure that he saw no silhouettes moving along it in the gloom of the trees.

Satisfied that it was a
ll clear, he began to head back to Sarah. As he moved off the path and back into the trees, he looked back over his shoulder once more along the track. Silently, a figure was sprinting toward him. For a split second he squinted to help focus, then he realised whether it was dead, infected or a perfectly normal living person, he didn't need to know. It was running straight for him and he needed to get away from it.