Dead Outside (Book 1) (8 page)
"Well, what are you going to do Wade?” the radio
squawked again
So,
the leader’s name was Wade. I checked the clip in the Uzi. It was empty, which
did me absolutely no good as he was almost definitely armed.
“All
we can do now is put out the fires, seal the door again, and kill that son of a
bitch,” he ordered. “And none of that, ‘bring him to me alive’ bullshit. Just
shoot him on sight.”
“Yes,
Mr. Tab. He’ll be dead before you know it.” The radio squawked.
I
opened the door slowly with the Uzi raised, hoping the sight of it would be
enough to keep him at bay. I saw my shotgun leaning against the wall directly
to my left, and that I was in some type of secretary’s office, not yet in the
main office. I glanced through a small window and saw Wade was still talking into
the radio looking out his window at the carnage unfolding below, so he didn’t
notice that I was now inside as I set the Uzi down and grabbed my shotgun,
pulling the pump back to find that it was still loaded.
The
door was only inches from my face. I closed my eyes for a second, taking a deep
breath, still seeing those green eyes, filled with surprise and fear. My nerves
were racing, but I had to get my backpack, and I wasn’t going to die here, not
today. I kicked in the door and fired my shotgun at him. The shot grazed his
left shoulder, causing him to drop his radio. He roared out in pain and turned,
brandishing his own sawn off shotgun.
I
dove behind a bookshelf as the shot blew a hole in the wall behind where I was
standing. Wade fired another shot blowing a hole through the bookshelf, inches
to the left of my head. I returned fire with two shots in quick succession,
missing with both, but causing him to kick over his computer desk for cover.
After
a few more close calls from both of us, I realized I was out of ammo, and since
he wasn’t firing anymore, I figured he must be as well.
I
looked for something I could use as a weapon. My machete was on the other side
of the room, next to my stolen backpack. Just as I got up to make a dash, Wade
tackled me from the side, knocking me into a wall and smashing a clay pot of a
potted plant. I shook off the shock of what just happened, just in time to see
him grab a leg I shot off of his desk and brandish it like a bat.
I
acted fast and grabbed a handful of dirt from the smashed pot and threw it at
his face, blinding him. While Wade was trying to wipe the dirt out of his eyes
I clambered to my feet and punched him in his left cheek, knocking him
backward. As he was falling he threw the hunk of wood and hit me in the abdomen.
I hunched over in pain.
He
got up first and pulled me to my feet, grabbed my shoulders, kneed me in the
gut, in the same spot the hunk of wood had hit and threw me into the wall
across the room. It took all I had to keep myself from vomiting until I saw my
machete within reach and grabbed it. Wade grabbed my shirt, and as he pulled me
to my feet again I sliced him on the right side of his face. He let go of my
shirt and grabbed his face yelling in pain.
When
he turned, I sliced his right calf and kicked him to the ground. He was
writhing in pain on the ground as I got to my feet. I grabbed his shirt collar
and belt and launched him through the window overlooking the warehouse. The
green eyes faded as the glass shattered.
I
gathered my things and reloaded my shotgun with extra shells from my backpack.
Before I left the room, I looked out the window and saw Wade unconscious on the
top of a large pallet. It was completely surrounded by Infected, all of them
reaching up for him, clawing at the boxes making up the pallet, but it was just
tall enough for him to be out of reach.
I
kicked open his office door and kept my shotgun shouldered, ready to fire on
anyone trying to keep me from leaving. I made my way to the stairs and saw two
of the other thugs fighting a losing battle against the oncoming horde halfway
up the stairs. This meant that any possibility of reaching the loading docks
the way I came in was now dead. I ran back down the hallway to look for another
way out and saw a rather lanky individual holding an Uzi with shaking hands
staring at me. I fired a shot at him from the hip and opened the door next to
me and dove in. he fired a burst of five shots at me, four of which hit the
door, leaving four widely spread dents. I kicked the door shut and had the
sights of my shotgun trained on the door.
The
few moments I actually lay there on the floor felt like hours as I waited for
him to come see if he’d killed me. I heard a few more bursts of shots from his
Uzi, and then a scream. I looked around and noticed I was in the bathroom. I
slowly, and as quietly as possible, got to my feet to check the doorway. When I
pushed the door open, I found the horde had reached the top of the stairs, and
the entire hallway was packed with Infected.
Before
I could pull the door shut, several of them got their arms through the doorway
and were forcing themselves in. I tried to run backwards too fast and lost my
footing and landed on my back, hard. It didn’t take a second for eight or nine
to come through the door, so I crawled kicking the hands away into the
handicapped stall on the opposite side of the room.
I
scrambled to my feet and reached to latch the stall door shut, but before I
could a single rotten arm reached through, stopping me from closing it all the
way. The Infected forced more of her arm, and eventually part of her torso
through the door. I opened the door just enough for her to get in, grabbed her
torn and bloody shirt, and threw her to the other end of the stall, hoping I
could latch the door, and then take care of her before she could get back up.
When
I did, another Infected managed to get in, and he grabbed my backpack while I
tossed the other. I turned and latched the door just as the rest of the horde
reached it. I felt the Infected behind me clawing at my shoulders, trying to
bite me, but my backpack was big enough to keep his head just far enough away.
I
released the clips holding the straps on my backpack and pulled my arms out of
the straps, turned and fired my pistol at his head, killing it instantly. I
felt a small hand grab my shoulder from behind. It was the first Infected that
I’d thrown to the ground. I turned and grabbed her by the neck with one hand
and tried to loosen her grip on my shoulder. She had a tight, bony grip. Her
thick, curly, brown hair flowed over her shoulders onto a tight red shirt, torn
slightly on the right shoulder, with a brown stain of blood where she was
bitten. As I struggled to release her grip I tripped over the other Infected,
dropped my pistol, and landed on my back taking her with me. She opened her
jaws wide, snarling and snapping at me. She couldn’t have weighed more than a
buck ten, so I rolled so that I was on top of her. For a moment we locked eyes.
Even though they were milky and empty, they looked like they used to be green.
Her face was really familiar, almost like…
“Sarah!”
I cried out. It wasn’t really her. This girl’s cheekbones were a little lower,
and her nose was a little thinner than Sarah’s, but the resemblance was spooky
enough to chill me to my core. If this girl couldn’t manage to survive, how
could Sarah? They were the same height, same weight. I shook the thought away.
Sarah had to be alive, she just had to. I put my knee onto her chest, pulled
her boney fingers from my shirt, took a few steps to grab the pistol, and shot
her in the face, blowing it off.
The
stall door was shaking violently, pulling the bolts holding it up out of the
wall. It wasn’t built to stop a dozen people trying to bash it in. I didn’t
have the ammo or any other means to fight the herd out there, so I looked at my
surroundings. A sink, toilet, and a trash can. The ceiling was made up of
ceiling tiles, which gave me an idea. I climbed up on top of the toilet, pushed
up on a ceiling tile, and moved it to the side.
There
were several pipes and metal supports with a decent sized space above the
ceiling tiles, definitely big enough for me to fit. I dropped down and picked
up my backpack and shotgun just as the stall door collapsed, allowing dozens of
Infected to flood into the stall. I climbed back up onto the sink and pulled
myself up above the ceiling tiles. I looked down and saw dozens of hands
reaching up for me.
I
sighed in relief. They didn’t think to climb up on the toilet or sink, and
couldn’t even brush the ceiling from the ground. After making sure what I was
crawling on was strong enough to hold my weight, I slowly crawled along the
thick pipes to a walkway that must have been there for maintenance. I followed
the walkway until I saw a latch above me, which must have been the roof access.
I opened it and rain began pouring in, drenching me. I climbed out and saw the
mass of bodies still trying to force themselves into the warehouse.
I
made my way to the opposite side of the building from the loading docks, and
saw that there were only a few Infected, and a canopy overhang about 5 feet
below the roof edge. I slowly lowered myself onto it and slid down to the edge,
and then lowered myself to the ground. It was still raining, so I pulled
another throw away poncho out of my backpack and threw it on to stay at least a
little dry.
I
started running as fast as I could. It was even darker than before I went into
the warehouse, but I didn’t want to be anywhere near this place. Way too
dangerous. Luckily the majority of the massive mob was either inside the
warehouse or on the other side trying to push their way past each other. The
storm was still keeping any sounds I was making pretty well covered. Only a few
were following me, out of what had to be hundreds in that warehouse now.
“I
need to find another car,” I said to myself, almost out of breath, “And fast!”
There were tons of cars, but they were either crashed into each other and
dented, or scratched and bloodied.
The
Infected were only a few yards behind me, and more were adding to the mob as I
ran recklessly down the middle of a street. If I tripped or fell I would be
screwed. I was on a main street now, or at least some type of small road
downtown. Little shops and diners lined the streets. Cars were everywhere, and
that meant trapped Infected. Arms were reaching out of the windows trying to
get me as I went past.
After
about a mile, I slowed to a walk. My adrenaline was running low and I couldn’t
keep up running anymore. It was too much with my heavy backpack. Luckily
Infected weren’t that fast, and now that I finally had a little distance on
them I could take it a little easy, but if I wasn’t careful they could easily
catch up.
I
saw a red car ahead that looked in relatively good condition. I smashed the
window, jumped in and stuck my head under the wheel. I started pulling wires
and splicing them together. Finally the car roared to life. It was a lot louder
than I thought it would be, surprising me so much that I jerked my head back
and hit the wheel.
The
moans were getting louder. I pulled my head out and looked back. The Infected
weren’t that far behind, and not slowing down, so I revved the engine. It felt
good to drown out their moans. As I adjusted the rear view mirror, for a second
my eyes were that same shade of green. I blinked and they were back to their
normal hazel. After a moment of staring into my own eyes I shifted it into gear
and peeled out, leaving the mob and the whole shitty day behind me.
I
checked the time. It was already almost midnight, which meant I only had about
seven hours or so until the sun came up, that is, if the storm would let up. I
looked around at my surroundings. It wasn’t a warehouse district, or the small
town main street anymore, just trees and road. It made sense to not see any
cars while driving down back roads like this. Most cars were either stuck on
major highways, other designated escape routes, or still in driveways. It was
the small piece of normality I needed to bring my spirits up, even if it was
only a little bit.
Around
12:30 I decided it was about time to find some shelter, especially since the
gas light had just flicked on, making this car next to useless pretty soon. Up
ahead was a small neighborhood, though I guess it was just a street with a few
houses on it, not really a neighborhood like the subdivisions I was used to in Florida with a few hundred houses. There were only twelve houses here, and there were only
about seven or eight Infected in sight.
It
was slowing to a drizzle as I pulled off the side of the road, not wanting to
draw any unnecessary attention with such a loud car. I pulled my poncho back
over myself, and adjusted my hat. I swung the door of the car open and made for
the closest house, jogging toward what I hoped would be a relatively uneventful
evening and day ahead of me.
3:00
PM, July 1
I
was running as fast as I could, completely engulfed in darkness. She was right
in front of me, but every time I reached out for her she seemed to pull a
little further away. I tried to yell out to her, but my lips moved silently,
emitting no sound. She was being dragged away, and I couldn’t do anything about
it. My legs were on fire. I was pushing them past their limits just keeping up
with her dragging body. Her face was full of fear and her eyes were watered up
and glazed over, tears were pouring down her face.
She
was yelling to me. I could see her mouth wide, and the back of her throat
vibrating from the sound waves emitting out, but I couldn’t make out any actual
sound. All I could hear were the moans, the deep gasping groan that chilled you
deep inside. I tried my hardest to reach out to her again, but my finger tips
were mere millimeters away, and she was pulled out of sight.
“Sarah!”
I yelled out and leaped forward. I hit the ground hard, face first. My whole
body was shaking from all the adrenaline pumping through me. My clothes were
soaked in sweat. I looked around frantically, ascertaining my surroundings.
“It
was just a nightmare.” I thought out loud.
I
wiped my face and stood up. According to my watch, it was about three o’clock.
Light was beaming through the broken windows, shining around the entertainment
center I’d leaned against them to keep anything from getting in. I started my
pushups angry at myself for waking up so late.
After
finishing, I went to my backpack to get breakfast. As I opened the zipper, I
heard a loud crash. I instinctively grabbed my shotgun and ran to the front
door. The granola bar I was holding in my mouth hit the ground and broke in
half. The door had been smashed open, and the bookshelf I had leaned against it
had fallen over. Four of them were already inside the house, and Infected were
out the door as far as I could see, surrounding the red car I’d parked outside.
“Shit.”
I flipped the safety off my shotgun and fired at the closest one, missing his
head, but blowing his shoulder apart. His body fell into another Infected
behind him, knocking it over as I pumped the shotgun, ejecting a shell and
loading another into the chamber. I fired again, hitting the next Infected in
the neck, flinging his head off his shoulders.
More
came shuffling in, practically pouring in a sickening flow of bodies. I decided
to make my way back into the bedroom, not wanting to waste any more shells on a
losing battle. My heart was racing. There were several dozen in the room by the
time I made it back to the bedroom and slammed the door.
A
hand managed to reach through before it closed, making a sickening crunch as
the bones in the forearm snapped. I hit the hand with the butt of the shotgun
and tried to shut it again, but it was too late. Five or six more hands reached
through. More were just pounding the door. I leaned against it holding it
closed as best I could.
“Son
of a bitch!” I yelled out in frustration, my heart was racing about as fast as
my mind. I had to get out of here, and fast. The window was across the room,
but it was boarded up. The closet was no help. That would just trap me in a
worse place. My back pack was just out of reach, leaning against the bed I
slept on last night. I couldn’t get to it without the door flying open.
“Fuck!” I yelled out as loud as I could at the situation
I
sat there for at least an hour and a half, holding the door. I was getting
tired. The door was starting to slide open, inch by inch. There had to be at
least six of them on the other side hitting the door, with God knows how many
pushing them. I couldn’t stop thinking about her face. Her scared face as she
was being dragged away. Even though it was just a nightmare it felt so real,
and if I didn’t get out of this room, I would never see her face again.
The
moans echoed through my head. I began to lose hope. How could she still be
alive when none of these people made it?
No,
I told myself, she has to be alive, because she doesn’t know how I feel. My eyes
began to burn slightly, and I felt the wet tears roll down my cheeks. If she
didn’t make it, I don’t know what I would do. Without her, my life was empty,
meaningless. She completed me, like the last piece to an unfinished puzzle.
I
could hear the last thing she said to me repeating, over and over, “We need to
talk when you get back, about something I should have said years ago.” I hadn’t
really thought about those words since this all began. Maybe it was what I’d
always wanted to hear, though it wouldn’t be the first time I misread something
of this nature, but something about this time seemed different.
My
black baseball cap was lying on the ground between me and the bed. It was just
out of reach of my foot. I leaned away from the door for just a second to try
to drag it over, but the door was forcing itself open even harder, giving them
more leverage then I could manage.
I
slammed my foot against the base of the door, stopping it like we used to do as
kids playing tag in the house. For half a second I wasn’t holding the door
anymore, I was running through the hallway of my old house, chasing Sarah when
we were only thirteen years old.
She
was holding my hat in her hand, taunting me. “I’ve got your hat, I got your
hat!”
I
managed to tackle her to the ground, and by the time I managed to wrestle it
from her hands, I was on top of her, having pinned her to the ground. We locked
eyes for a few moments smiling, breathing heavily from all the running and
wrestling. She smiled, I smiled, and then she flipped me over on my back and
took my hat again. I chased her to the kitchen where she slipped and
accidentally dropped it into the bucket of cleaner my mom was using to mop the
floor. She fell on her elbow hard, hurting it.
I
was more worried about her than a stupid hat, but she felt really bad she had
ruined my favorite hat, which now had large white bleach stains all over it.
The
next day she brought me a brand new black baseball cap. “I’m really sorry. I
spent this week’s allowance to get you a new one.”
“This
one’s even better than my old one.” I smiled, just glad that she’d only bruised
her arm, and not broken it.
Her
lips moved responding to me, but I couldn’t hear the words. The moans slowly
began to drown out the sound of her voice, bringing me back to the present. The
gap I’d made by trying to retrieve my hat was just big enough for an Infected
to reach his shoulder through, and almost its head before I jammed the shoulder
back with the butt of the shotgun, before closing the door enough to stop them
from getting through again, but not enough to close it completely.
The
sunlight was getting dimmer, and the moans seemed to get louder each second. I
stared at the hat just resting on the ground, imagining her falling somewhere
now, without me there to pick her up. I couldn’t let these dead bastards take
her away from me. I needed to be there to protect her, and I couldn’t do that
stuck in this god damned room. The moans were still getting louder, and the
more they moaned the more would come. Every time they hit the door I got
angrier and angrier. I clenched my jaw and gritted my teeth. I couldn’t let
this happen. I just let it all out, I yelled as loud as I could.
There
were no words, just raw emotion. The kind of emotion that cannot be described
with words. I yelled until my throat got dry, but I kept yelling regardless.
When I yelled, I couldn’t hear the moans, the moans that were slowly taking
away my sanity.
A
hand broke through the door and grabbed my shoulder, without thinking I punched
it as hard as I could, but all I managed to do was hurt my own hand. Two or
three more broke through. I didn’t have time to think anymore I just let go of
the door and ran.
I
scooped up my hat, slid it on my head, grabbed my backpack and jumped into the
window shoulder first, shattering it and splintering the wood. I hit the ground
and rolled. Thank god I hadn’t been downstairs. I got up as fast as I could and
looked back for a second. They were already at the window falling out. I turned
and looked left then right. I was trapped in a fenced backyard. There had to be
two dozen Infected trying to get in the house through the windows when I jumped
through. The gate was to my left so I ran up and unlatched it. When I did I saw
the dozens of Infected that had gathered in front of the house. The car was in
the middle of the mob, completely unreachable.
“Fuck.”
I cursed myself, and the whole damned day. I tried to keep my voice down, no
point in yelling and attracting more Infected, but I couldn’t help it, almost
like cursing when you stub your toe. It happens. I ran as fast as I could down
the street with at least a hundred following me. I was already tired from
holding the door for so long, I couldn’t keep this up forever, I needed to find
something, anything to get out of the open.
After
about a half hour I slowed down to a walk, it started to rain pretty hard. My
clothes got heavy from water pretty quick, and I was completely soaked in no
time. I looked back and saw a dozen of them still following me a quarter mile
back. There was a dirt road about a mile down the road. When I got there, I
noticed it was a driveway that led to a two story house.
I
jogged down the driveway to the house. It seemed abandoned. There were no cars
around, the windows were all broken, and the siding was falling apart in
places. The front door had no handle or lock, and was partially open. I kicked
it lightly and it swung in, revealing the empty house.
There
was no furniture in the front room. The walls had no pictures or paintings, and
the wallpaper was faded and peeling off in places. The kitchen didn’t have any
appliances in it, and the cabinets were all smashed apart. I ran back to the
front door and saw the Infected making their way down the driveway to the
house.
I
went up the stairs to see if I could use something up there to brace against
the door. About half way up the stairs my foot broke through one of the steps.
I carefully placed my weight the rest of the way up, and found the upstairs
just as empty as the bottom floor, not that I couldn’t get anything down those
stairs without them collapsing anyways.
Then
I got an idea. I got a firm grip on the hand rails, and started stomping the
steps. Most of them broke relatively easily, all rotten or already missing. I
made sure to break the first 14 steps out, so the first structurally sound step
was over 7 feet off the ground, too high for an infected to pull up. I jumped
up, grabbed the ledge and got to the second floor as they pushed the front door
open. I waited to make sure they couldn’t climb up, then lay down on the floor,
closed my eyes, and drifted into a deep sleep.
