I Dream of Zombies (Book 2): Haven (21 page)

What
was his plan… to leave me here to starve to death?

Knocking paranoia on its head, Marla backed into the main
room and closed the door quietly. Slipping her knife into its sheaf in her pocket, she checked the boxes on the nearest shelf. Feeling for one that would prop the door open without being too heavy to shift, she picked it up and did just that with it. Then she removed her knife again and steeled her nerves. The corridor did not appear any lighter. Gloom loomed like doom only a few feet ahead, but it was worth trying to find another way out. Sitting around waiting was not something she was good at.

Here goes.

Holding the knife in a slightly raised grip,
Marla took slow and even steps into the darkness. Then she stopped and listened to the air around her. Hearing nothing at all, she wandered forwards a little more, and even more. Out of the murkiness a flight of stairs appeared to float upwards. Marla felt a flood of relief wash over her, but she didn’t allow herself to rush. She glanced behind her, but it was too dark to see the propped open door.

Feeling along the wall with her left hand, she
walked ahead, squinting in the inky blackness until her feet hit the bottom stair. The flight was the exact same width as the corridor, with a handrail on either side, and the sound her boots made gave her the impression that the steps were made of concrete. If they went up to ground level there was a good chance they led outside to a delivery area.

Gripping the rail with her left hand,
Marla took the stairs carefully, placing one foot soundly before moving the next one up. After each step she listened out, pushing at the secrets in the darkness. It was impossible to see how high the stairs went. Instinct took over and she went with it.

***

Sylvia moved her hands through the papers scattered over the desk, sending some flying. She shook some pens and pencils out of a pot, and emptied a rack of documents. Becoming impatient, she waved her arms and swept everything on to the floor, listening out for the jingle of keys, but it did not come. On the other side of the group of four desks, John was doing the same thing while Elliott scouted the area, trying to fathom where Will might have thrown or hidden them.

“This sucks,” shouted Sylvia as she pulled open drawer after drawer and rummaged inside them. “I can’t believe he did this.”

“Neither can I,” said John. “What did he have against her? Did she piss him off?”

Sylvia emptied one of the drawers on to the floor. “Not that I saw
and that would be a massive overreaction by him.” She moved sideways and opened the next one without any luck. Placing her hands on her hips she turned around slowly, taking in the entire floor. “Where are you?” she asked aloud, but the walls stared back mutely and she grasped her hands together. “We’re running out of time. I’m going to tell Tommy to just blast the door.”

“But the noise will attract
everything that’s inside and she doesn’t have a gun,” warned John.

“What choice do we have?”

***

Gripping the rail, Marla took two more steps and paused, straining her ears to hear anything over the top of her pumping heart. Swallowing, she tried to ignore her racing pulse as her knife tapped on the right-hand rail.
Don’t be scared of the dark. It’s only the dark.

A
wail sliced through the pitch dark, shrouded and obscure, waking the very air around it. Marla instinctively stepped backwards and stumbled. As she grabbed both rails to steady herself, the knife almost slipped out of her grasp. Metal on metal, it clinked sharply.

The sound rose,
in almost an echo of itself, repeating and repeating, inviting the almost ghostly wails upon wails. Marla squinted, but there was nothing to see in this gloomy fog, so impenetrable. Turning, she grasped the right-hand rail with her left hand and moved down the steps, feeling for her footing in the darkness, frightened to go too quickly in case she tumbled.

Shuffling
and rustling, accompanied by a low moan, guttural and inhuman, swept down the staircase. Something was there, right above her.

***

Sylvia ran down the street and skidded to a stop beside Tommy. “I c-can’t find them,” she said, puffing. “We should shoot the lock.”

“But the noise…” he answered, glaring at Will, who was sitting on the pavement with his hands cuffed behind his back.

“She’s right,” Martinez pointed out. “If anything is in there, she’s in danger anyway.”

“But she might be hiding…”

“Enough with the buts. Let’s just do it,” Sylvia insisted. “She’s my friend too. We have to get her out.”

“Okay,” Tommy sighed.

“I’m coming with you,” said Martinez.

“We’ll guard this
one,” Marcus offered, nodding at Leroy. “Jake’s in the Vector, ready to shoot if any more dead heads turn up, and he’s got Ian for company.”

“And w
e have Elliott and John inside,” Sylvia reminded them. “I think it’s a good split.”

Tommy nodded. “Okay, let’s sort this out.” Turning, he raced back into the building with Syl
via and Martinez on his heels. Once inside, Martinez led them to the basement door. John followed while Elliott chose to guard the entrance to the library.

***

The wailing rose. It was not one voice, but voices. Marla steadied herself and felt with her foot for the next step, telling herself not to panic, but it was falling on deaf ears. Adrenalin pummelled through her body, and she willed herself to balance and remain calm, but whatever was at the top of the stairway was approaching. The mournful sighs grew in intensity and number, and what was once a sweeping sound had become discernible footsteps; a mass of them moving together, inexorably towards her.

Marla stepped down
, and again, and again, but she knew it wasn’t fast enough. Swallowing down her fear, she realised that she could smell them; the familiar rotting flesh crept around her nostrils. Trembling slightly, she moved her foot down, followed by the other, while gripping the rail. The groans rose, almost becoming a roar, and she knew they were upon her. Hurrying, she reached with her foot as her body turned and the knife clanged against the railing, the echo deafening. Feeling it slide, she increased her grip on it before losing her sense of balance as she trod empty space and plunged down into the blackness.

A hot fire tore across
Marla’s right hand and spiked her belly as she struggled to stand. Gripping her stomach with her left hand as she fought to maintain her hold on the knife, she made to run forwards only to feel her ankle give way beneath her. Gasping as pain shot through it, she stumbled in the inky gloom. She gritted her teeth and willed her foot forwards, casting sharp spasms through the joint. It was all she could do not to scream out loud. At the very top of the stairs the cries of the dead increased in volume as they began their descent.

***

Tommy blasted the lock twice with his shotgun as the other three guards stood back. Pushing the door open, he switched on his searchlight as he entered the unlit room beyond. Martinez followed him in, and then Sylvia and John. Armed with only a handgun, Sylvia turned on her torch and waved it around.

“Down there,” said Martinez.

Tommy headed down the steps neither too quickly nor too slowly. At the bottom he stopped sharply. “Hell, this place is huge.” He strode forwards and shouted, “Marla?!” knowing the gunshots would have disturbed any freaks already. No response came.

“Should we split up?” asked
John.

“No,” Tommy insisted. “Let’s hea
d to the other side, checking any hiding places. She should have heard me shout.” As he spoke the words, he felt himself shiver as the worst thought possible crossed his mind.

The group made their way forwards in the gloom, their boots echoing across the concrete floor. Sylvia shone her torch back and forth while the men used their searchlights. “There!” she said, pointing. “There’s a dead one.
Not much left.”

“That’s a good start,” said Martinez.

Tommy remained silent and hastened his speed.

***

Gripping her stomach with her left hand, Marla felt her fingers becoming wet. She fought the urge to cry out for help. A gunshot ripped through the basement, followed by another, and she paused for a second in shock. Behind her, she heard the bodies sliding down. The grim wails rose like a putrid ocean and she imagined the dead falling on top of her, suffocating, biting, eating…

Fighting the dizziness that rang in her ears,
Marla half stumbled, half ran down the pitch-black corridor, feeling the wall with her hand that still grasped the knife. The steel cut along the brickwork, but staying silent was now pointless. They could smell her. Not daring to turn to check where they were, she sensed they were close. Rotting flesh filled the air, mixing with the smell of death. Her death. It was coming; she could feel it.

No, I just have to reach the door. Please, just the door.

Stumbling forwards, she felt tears flood her eyes and she fought them. The door yawned open and she held on to it for balance as she almost fell over the cardboard box. Kicking it with her good foot, she pushed the door closed and turned once more, gripping the gaping wound in her belly. As the wetness drenched her fingers, the dizziness seemed deliriously inviting. In the darkness she could almost feel death watching, hovering, running his hands over her body, waiting to consume her. It was only a matter of time.

No!

Marla grimaced through the
searing pain and stumbled on, forcing herself to move as fast as humanly possible. Behind her, the door creaked. Despite her promise to herself not to turn, she glanced back and felt as Orpheus must have when Eurydice turned to salt. The door swung off its hinges and the dead poured out into the basement. Gasping, she pushed herself to reach the end of the first shelving unit. In that moment it was already too much and she screamed, the noise filling the void, shaking the dizziness that overwhelmed her skull, making the torment shudder to a stop. If only she could stop too. If only it would all end.

“Marla!”

The name made her gasp and though she squinted, she saw no one there. It was but her imagination or death’s final joke now that he had come to take her. As she dragged her ankle once again, her right arm swept backwards, sending the knife spinning out of her grip. It flew to a clattering stop on the ground as her body refused to go on any more. The inhuman howls pressed against her ears; such a delicious invite.

She fought back, punching with
her left hand. The bleeding wound pulled across her stomach, the agony renewing itself with every movement. Steeling herself, she kicked out. Yet there was another. It caught her hair in its grip, pulling and tugging, but footsteps accompanied it, and they grew louder, breaking through the wails and the despair that plunged through the darkness.

Shots rang out. Blinded by light, Marla
tried to turn around, but her arm wouldn’t free itself. The thing tugged again and again as she stretched, and then it let go and she fell backwards, yet hands caught her and voices spoke, but the rush of the sea seemed to roar in her ears. More shots ripped through the crashing waves as she felt herself falling further back into nothing; a place bereft of all sound where everything stopped.

Thursday, 1
August

Juan Caballero walked into his office briskly and closed the door behind him. Without a word, he moved behind his mahogany desk and sat down in his chair. Rubbing his moustache with one finger, he surveyed the room. Tommy, Sylvia, Martinez, Jake, Ian, Marcus, Elliott, Leroy and John watched him silently.

“Please sit down,” Caballero said, and everyone did so. “I have read through your statements regarding the events of yesterday. These are serious accusations,” he continued, looking from face to face. “You are all in agreement on this? Your story is the same?”

Tommy glanced along the line of soldiers
as they all nodded. “It’s the truth of what happened, sir,” he said. “Marla could have died. She nearly did. And it was Sergeant Acre’s fault.”

“Indeed, that is what I’ve gathered from your statements. Martinez, you were the only person present when Sergeant Acre locked Marla in the basement?”

Martinez nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“D
id you check if the basement was safe first?”

“No, we didn’t, and there were noises in there, sir.”

“What kind of noises?”

“I did not know, sir, but it sounded like b
reathing. I had no choice, but to do as Sergeant Acre said, because he threatened me.”

“But you did not remove Marla’s knife when y
ou frisked her. That was good, Martinez. You probably helped to save her life. You also spoke up when Sergeant Acre left the building, so that was also good. It’s a shame you didn’t speak sooner, but…”

“I was scared, sir. He threatened me and I was not sure where the order came from, sir.”

Caballero smiled slightly. “Well, I can assure you the order did not come from me. Marla is a dedicated and valued member of the guard. You all did well in rescuing her. You may all have a week’s leave if you wish to take it. I realise that some of you will prefer to work, so it is your decision to make. You may keep these days to take at any time. It will be noted on your files what you did to aid a fellow soldier. I imagine it was quite a difficult situation from reading your statements. Seventeen corpses were found in that basement. Good work.”

Sylvia put up her hand slightly and asked, “What will happen to Sergeant Acre, sir. Will he still be commanding any of the units, because I would request not to be placed with him.”

“Me too,” said Martinez, and everyone else nodded their agreement.

“Have no fear
on that score,” Caballero replied. “Sergeant Acre is in one of our cells right now and he will be kept there until he can be transported to a proper, secure facility for the likes of him. I am already in talks about his future with the powers that be. He will be charged over this, I can assure you. The prisons in this country are still operational. However, I need to get to the bottom of this matter. There will be an enquiry, so you will each be interviewed again, I imagine. I need to find out if Sergeant Acre was acting on his own initiative or following an order from elsewhere. I like to be able to trust the people I am working with,” he added, grasping his hands together. “Anyway, I think that is all for today. Enjoy the rest of the day as free time for yourselves and I thank you again for your actions that saved the life of one of us.”

“Sir, d
o you have an update on Marla’s health?” asked Tommy.

Caballero smiled. “Oh
, yes. I spoke to one of the doctors before coming here, but my mind has been troubled by Sergeant Acre. I understand that her injuries were sustained when she fell down a staircase and not from any confrontation with the undead. She has no bites, thankfully. The doctor said she was suffering from shock and lost consciousness due to blood loss from her stomach wound. Luckily, her injuries are not severe. She was damn lucky. He believes she will make a full recovery.”

“When can she leave the hospital?” asked Sylvia, leaning forwards in her chair.

“I believe he mentioned a four-day recovery time. Her stitches will be removed after seven days – I forget the details – but I think you should be able to visit her tomorrow,” Caballero added. “Does that put your mind at rest?”

Sylvia smiled. “Yes,
that is great news. Thank you, sir. I was worried.”

“Enough of the sir.
I think I have heard too many of those today. You’ve all been through a lot, so please go and enjoy a day of rest,” said Caballero. “You deserve it, and don’t give another thought to Will Acre. He will be out of this place in no time, if I have any say in the matter.”