Infection Z (Book 2) (14 page)

H
ayden was
under no illusions about the situation he was in when he opened his eyes.

His head stung as a light shone at him from somewhere ahead. There was a smell—an intense smell of damp, of sick and of death, all of it rolled together as one in a horrible cocktail. He could taste blood in his mouth, clogged in his throat. His face and his head stung all over.

He remembered the room Ally had shown him. The room with the women all chained and tied up. And as he tried to move his sore wrists—finding them cuffed to a wall or somewhere behind him—Hayden’s first thought was that he too was in that room. He was tied up and trapped and the men of Riversford were going to do things to him too. Terrible, awful things.

And yet it was still his sister who came to the forefront of his mind. His sister who he had to protect, no matter what.

His sister who he’d failed to protect.

He battled through the piercing light and opened his eyes. He looked around and realised he wasn’t in fact in the room with the women—he was outside somewhere. Cold wind blew against his face. He was naked but for his boxer shorts, but he couldn’t feel the cold on his chest or legs because his muscles must’ve already gone numb. His hands were tied behind his back. The light that he swore was searing was in fact nothing more than the orange glow of the setting sun in the distance.

And in front of the sun, in front of the trees that the sun was descending behind, there was a movement.

Hayden squinted and tried to focus on this movement, but it was just too out of reach for his abysmal eyes. He leaned back against the metal wall he was attached to and looked up at the reddening sky. He must’ve been out a while. Must’ve been knocked out then tied up out here then…

He spotted something in the corner of his right eye. Something he hadn’t noticed before, his vision still fuzzy and blurry. Something moving.

He turned and he let out a yelp when he saw what it was.

There was a zombie tied to the wall beside him. A man with greying hair, also stripped down to his green boxer shorts. He pulled at the chains and snapped his teeth at Hayden. Bite marks lined with bruises went all down the left side of his body, which had turned a nasty shade of purple. His eyes were distant, glassy.

Hayden wondered why the Riversford group would tie a zombie up when he saw another one lurch around the side of the greying man and yank at the chains.

And then another.

And another.

Hayden held his breath. His heart picked up. He looked ahead, over at the trees again, where he’d seen the rustling of movement when he’d first opened his eyes.

He knew what was coming his way.

He knew what the movement was.

The dead.

“Shit. They—they’re coming back.”

The voice made Hayden swing to his left. He saw four men all tied and cuffed up to the green metal wall like him, all stripped down to their underwear, fear on their faces. One of the men was Manish. Goose pimples covered his body, and his lips looked so cold that they’d turned blue. Defrosting ice trickled down from the roof above and tapped on his shoulder, making him wince every time.

“How … how long have we—”

“This is
frigging
it,” a fat man with mid-length black hair said. “This is it. We’re screwed. I don’t want to die but we’re screwed.”

Hayden looked back at the crowd of zombies drifting their way, ever closer. Their gasps echoed against the branches of the trees. The stench of rotting flesh combined with the urinal fear of the tied up men.

Their little silhouettes got bigger, bigger.

“We have to try something,” Hayden said, tugging at the cuffs around his wrists. But he realised right away just how locked in he was. The gasping zombies to his right reminded him that an uncountable number of men had tried to escape these cuffs beforehand—and an uncountable number had failed.

He tugged at the chains regardless, pulled them against the metal latches on the wall. He’d been so preoccupied with his hands that he only then realised that his feet were bound tightly at the ankles with rope. So even if he did somehow manage to get himself off this wall, he’d still be forced to hop away from a crowd of zombies that were approaching ever faster.

“Please don’t let me die,” a skinny blond guy who must’ve been in his late teens said a few down from the bald guy and Manish. “P-please don’t let me die.”

Hayden looked back at the metal latches they were attached to. The wall of the building was built out of corrugated steel, which wasn’t ideal because it only added to its strength. But they had to try something. They had to try something or they’d die.

“We—we need to pull,” Hayden said. “All of us at once. We need to pull together—”

“The hell do you think I’ve been tryin’ for the last half an hour?” the chubby man spat.

“Please, please let me live,” the blond guy whimpered.

Manish stayed still.

Hayden glanced at the approaching zombies. At least a dozen of them. And at the speed they were approaching they’d be on them in a matter of minutes—if not sooner. “All of us. At once. We need to work together if we’re going to get out. So we count down from three and we pull on the wall as hard as we can. You hear me?”

“And how confident are you this is gonna work?”

Hayden wanted to tell the chubby guy that he didn’t have a clue whether this was going to work or not, but also that they hardly had any better options. Instead, he said: “We have to try. We won’t know if we don’t try. We don’t have much time.”

“Please,” the blond guy said. His grey boxers were drenched with piss. “I—I just want my mum. I just want my mum.”

Hayden took a deep breath of the cold, stinky air. He looked ahead at the crowd of zombies. “On my count, we all pull. Ready?”

Chubby guy grunted.

Blond guy whimpered.

Manish stared on.

“Okay. On my count, we pull. Pull even if it feels like our wrists are gonna come off. We pull and we hope. Three. Two. One … Pull!”

Hayden pulled as hard as he could and he did feel like his wrists were going to come off.

But he didn’t hear a sound from the metal wall. No sign of it creaking, of morphing, or the latches snapping.

He kept on pulling. Stuck his teeth into his lips and pulled with all his strength, all his might. He closed his eyes. Closed his eyes and took his focus off the zombies ahead of him, the tied up zombies beside him, the pains in his chapped wrists and the cold in his body and the tenderness of his beaten head.

He thought of Clarice.

Imagined her in that room, chained up, beaten and bruised.

I won’t let that happen to you Sis I won’t let that—

He heard a snap.

His heart jumped. He opened his eyes. There was a definite sound of metal creaking, snapping.

He turned to look at the guys to see if any of them had come loose, but they were all looking at him with wide eyes.

Fearful eyes.

And then he understood.

His stomach sank, and he understood.

He held his breath. Turned to his right.

The zombie nearest him had snapped free of the chains around its bitten down wrists. The skin and flesh had been stripped away, and nothing but cracked, frail bone remained.

It hands were still in the chains, but the zombie was on its feet.

Hobbling in Hayden’s direction.

“
F
uck
. Fuck. We’re screwed. We’re fucking screwed.”

Hayden watched the zombie that had pulled itself free of the metal wall wander in his direction. He kept still—or at least, he tried to, his heart racing and his arms and legs quivering. His breath clouded up in front of him in the icy air. As he listened to the chubby guy curse and shake, he couldn’t argue with him.

They were all screwed.

And he was first in line.

The zombie staggered towards Hayden. Blood dripped out from the stumpy flesh dangling out of its torn wrists, which broken bone pierced through. It looked towards Hayden with those grey, vacant eyes, and although it wasn’t looking directly at him, Hayden could feel it examining his every inch—looking at the group of men chained to the wall and figuring out which one made for the best meal.

“All cause of your fucking rattling,” the bald man said. There was a shaky fear to his voice now that cut through the anger. “All of your fucking rattling. Shit. Shit.”

But Hayden just kept still. He kept his eyes on the zombie as it approached. Kept his eyes on it closely, but held his ground, stayed as still as he could.

It was all he could do.

Chubby guy continued to curse and twitch.

Blond guy whimpered.

At the edge of the trees just ahead, the larger group of zombies crawled ever nearer. Soon, they’d all be upon them—upon Manish, upon Hayden, upon everyone. But Hayden couldn’t let that happen. He couldn’t let that happen because he had a sister to look out for, a sister to protect.

And he owed it to Sarah to help her out, too. Because whatever she was going through, he knew one thing for certain about Riversford: it was no place for women.

Shit; it was no place for anyone.

“So what now?” the bald guy muttered. “What the fuck now?”

But Hayden couldn’t reply. He couldn’t reply because he didn’t know what to say. What now? Zombies were coming for them from ahead, one of them from their right.

And he was first in line to be feasted on.

He held his breath as the putrid zombie edged closer. As it walked, its distant gaze drifted from Hayden to the other men and then back at Hayden again, like it couldn’t believe its luck. Just past it, the zombies chained up to the wall pulled at their chains, and no doubt if they kept on pulling they’d be free too, and then it would be over, definitely over.

“I’m—I’m scared,” the blond guy said. “I don’t want to die. Please don’t—don’t let me die. Please.”

Manish stayed quiet. So too did Hayden.

Hayden watched as the zombie edged around two feet from him. He felt his heart race. He wanted to close his eyes and turn away from his inevitable fate, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t divert his attention from the inevitable. It was like how you stared at a traffic accident as you drove past. There was something morbidly fascinating about death. A reminder of your own mortality standing right in front of you.

Widening its jaws.

Blood-laced saliva drooling from its chin.

He tensed all his muscles and readied himself for the impact of the teeth, for the piercing of his flesh, when he thought of his sister. Thought of Clarice. He prayed she was okay. He couldn’t die. If he died, she’d have nobody to help her. And sure—Hayden had fast learned she was tough, she didn’t need saving. But she still needed her brother. And he needed her.

It always had been that way.

As the snarling mouth of the zombie prepared to bite into Hayden’s neck, Hayden did the only thing he could think of.

He pulled hard against the chains that his wrists were tied to.

Pulled until he heard a creaking; until his own hands felt like they were going to crack away from the cuffs.

And then he opened his own mouth as the zombie readied to bite.

He wrapped his mouth around the zombie’s throat and he bit.

Hard.

The first thing he noticed was the taste. He’d heard somewhere that human flesh tasted like chicken, and that it was the body’s preferred meat source simply through a case of absolute recognition.

Maybe so. But not in the case of rotting meat.

He sunk his teeth further into the zombie’s neck and did all he could to keep the vomit from rising up his throat. The taste was ghastly—sour, bitter, and not aided by the smell it gave off too. He could hear the zombie gasping and groaning as cold blood dribbled down Hayden’s lips, and he could hear the muffled cursing of the chubby guy and the others to his left.

But still, he kept on biting.

Kept on pulling back.

Tearing the rotting flesh from the zombie’s sinewy neck.

He wondered for a split second whether he’d signed his own death warrant. In the books and the movies, sometimes all it took to turn was eating zombie flesh.

But this wasn’t a book, and it wasn’t a movie.

That gave him the slightest bit of hope.

While biting at the zombie’s neck and trying not to pass out through sickness, he pulled and pulled at the chains, pulled because it was all he could do. His wrists were numb, his hands felt like they were going to snap away.

But he kept on pulling. For Clarice. For Sarah. For himself.

The zombie dragged itself away from Hayden and Hayden kept holding on with his teeth, being careful not to swallow any of the flesh he’d clamped down on. Muscle stretched from his neck like an elastic band, and Hayden’s eye’s filled with the colours of an oncoming blackout, but he kept breathing steadily, keeping his cool, pulling at the chains around his wrists.

The zombie came free of Hayden’s teeth and staggered back, like it was shocked at what Hayden had done. He’d bitten a chunk out of the front of its neck; a chunk that he spat out onto the ground beside him, as well as burning stomach acid and sickly phlegm.

“Fuck, man,” the chubby guy said. “You … you …”

But Hayden didn’t hear what the chubby guy said next.

Something cracked behind him.

The feeling trickled back into his wrists.

He was free.

He sat in disbelief for a few seconds as the crowd of a dozen zombies got closer.

“You—you did it,” the nervous blond guy said, eyes wide and tearful. “You … help us. Get us out!”

Hayden looked ahead. Zombies were only ten metres or so away, and the zombie he’d bitten was right in front of them. He used his aching hands to help himself onto his feet. His ankles were still tied, but he didn’t have time for them right now. Just had to hop over to Manish and the chubby guy and the nervous guy and help them, get them free, get them …

The next thing he saw happened in a blur.

The black-haired female zombie stepping around the opposite side of the wall from out of nowhere.

Powering towards the nervous guy, who stared and screamed and shouted at Hayden as the rest of the zombies got closer.

Jumping on him.

Sinking its cracked, sharpened teeth into the top of his skull, sending blood trickling through his blond hair.

As blond guy screamed at the top of his terrified voice, screamed and begged for his mum and his dad and his everything, Hayden heard another crack to his right.

Another zombie free of the chains.

Another one to add to the dozen inching towards them.

Another marking on his death certificate.