The Left Series (Book 4): Left In The Cold (40 page)

Jimmy found a metal tool to wind open high windows, Wingate picked up a broken wooden broom handle, which was pointed into a spike. Batfish opened a closet with some cleaning equipment inside. She took a hard, plastic mop handle with a rounded point at the end. I stuck my head through a few office doors and searched for a weapon. The only items I spotted were blank computer screens and the odd stapler. Not much use against around one hundred hungry zombies.

“Still going with the firearm route, huh?” Smith muttered, as we walked by the last few offices.

“I’m still struggling with my shoulder wound,” I groaned. “I’ve still got a few spare magazines full of ammo.”

Smith shrugged.
“Your call, kid.”

A single, green colored metal door was situated in the wall beyond the offices. Smith flashed me an inquisitive glance.

“Where do you think that leads to?” he asked.

I shrugged. “No ideas, probably a store closet, knowing our luck.”

Smith depressed the handle and opened the door a crack. He peered through the gap then stuck his head around the door jamb.

“It’s not a store closet,” he said, his voice echoing through the space beyond the door.

I moved closer and peered in through the door behind him. Some sort of metal roller chute joined to a conveyer belt stood in the small, bare concrete walled room. The motionless, three foot wide conveyer belt disappeared through a large, square shaped hole in the wall to the right on a downward angle.

“What the hell is this?” I gasped.

“Some sort of delivery chute, I guess,” Smith said. “Maybe they used it to send mail or whatever they manufactured in this place down to the floor level below us.”

“Shame it’s not running,” I sighed. “We could use it to get down the levels.”

“We still can,” Smith said, grunting as he hopped up on the conveyer belt. “We’ll just have to crouch down when we pass through any small spaces.”

“It may lead us to a dead end, though,” I griped.

“Anyplace is better than here,” he said.

“What are you guys doing in there?” Wingate shrieked at us, poking her head through the door. “Come on, we need to find an exit route instead of goofing around.”

Batfish, Jimmy and Cordoba also pushed their way into the small room. 

“We may have found an exit route,” Smith argued, bouncing on the conveyer belt. “We follow this bad boy down as far as we can go.”

“What?” she screeched. “That’s damn suicide. We can’t see where the hell we’re going.”

“Got any better ideas, doll?”

We all glanced around at each other, hoping somebody would come up with an alternative plan. Nobody did.

“All right,” Wingate sighed. “Come on. Let’s all go and get ourselves killed carrying out Smith’s goofy escape plan.” She held out her hand for Smith to grasp and climbed up to join him on the conveyer belt.

“We’ll all have to take it steady on here,” Smith instructed. “We don’t know where it leads to and it’s not going to be easy to turn around and go back the other way if we run into any trouble.”

“All right, Smith,” Batfish scolded. “Come on, let’s go, already. Those things are going to be coming up that staircase behind us any minute.”
She picked up Spot and shoved him back into his harness.

Smith led the way, crouching and stepping through the square shaped hole. Wingate followed him and Cordoba and Batfish climbed up onto the conveyer belt after them. I allowed Jimmy to go next, waving him onward. I was going to be following up the rear. Well, somebody had to be in that position.

I watched Jimmy step through the big, square hole and went to follow him but hesitated, for no specific reason other than apprehension. At least we were heading in the right direction but I couldn’t help thinking we were making the wrong move somehow.

Chapter Fifty-Eight

I forced myself to clamber through the square hole at the end of the conveyer belt and found myself in some sort of dark machinery workshop. Blinds covered the windows and the dim sun from outside provided only just enough light to see. I saw the silhouettes of the others in my party, gradually plodding along the belt in front of me. The conveyer belt looped around in a circle next to the wall, following the workshop’s perimeter.

Silent lathes and empty work benches stood, dotted around the large, open plan floor space and the air stunk of machinery oil and singed metal.
It wasn’t hard to imagine the place when it was fully operational. The noise of grinding machinery and the banter of the workers would have been raucous throughout the workshop.

“Mind how you go on the metal roller parts between the conveyer belts,” Smith called back, interrupting my daydream.

Smith and Wingate ducked through another opening through the wall at the far end of the workshop. I followed the path behind the others and watched as they disappeared one by one through the gap. Jimmy vanished from view in front of me and I went to follow him through the hole.

I trod on one of the metal roller sections and hadn’t heeded Smith’s warning. I was too busy caught up in my own thoughts. My foot shot forward in front me and I lost my balance completely. I landed on my back on the side of the roller belt then tumbled off onto the workshop floor.
Pain raced through my body and I felt the cut in my left shoulder split open again under the impact of the fall.

I lay still for a few seconds, waiting for the worst of the pain to diminish
and biting my bottom lip. It was all I could do to remain silent with the agony I felt. I expected Jimmy to poke his head back through the opening to check on me but he didn’t. The rest of them were obviously fixated on where they were heading, not what was behind them.

I rolled over and tried to stand. The backpack weighed heavy and I couldn’t haul myself to my feet.
I crawled along the floor to the nearest workbench and scrabbled up the side, pulling myself up with my arms and using the sturdy bench as leverage. Something rattled on the work table’s surface and I accidently knocked it onto the floor. It clanged against the hard ground and I could just about see the object was a three foot long, piece of metal pipe in the gloom.

I bent to pick up the pipe but stopped moving when I heard a whispery groan from somewhere nearby. I wondered whether I’d simply heard the wind blustering outside the windows or something more sinister.
I carried on reaching down and wrapped my fingers around the pipe. The cylindrical tube was hollow but still quite heavy and the end scraped across the floor as I picked it up.

The groan came again as if it was replying to the scraping noise of the metal. Then I heard footsteps padding through the workshop.
The hairs on the back of my neck prickled and I sensed imminent danger. I glanced around the workbenches and lathes, hoping I wasn’t faced with one of those crawling zombies that had somehow been crippled in death or had their legs chewed off. I’d never see a crawler approach through the shadows in the dim light, until it was too late.

I scanned over a rack of free standing shelves in the center of the floor space but saw nothing. Then something moved to the left and a silhouette of a head with a mop of spiky hair was visible in the gloom. Whatever or whoever it was must have been masked by the shadows of the shelves.

The head and I guessed the rest of the body lumbered towards me. I caught sight of a grasping pair of hands loom out from the shadows. I considered reaching for my handgun in my holster inside my jacket. But the noise would be too loud and attract more of the undead, who may be lurking around the vicinity.

I had the metal pipe in my hand, which would make an adequate weapon. I was worried that my shoulder injury may have prevented me from gaining a sufficient swing. Too bad, I was in this situation due to my own incompetence. Smith and the others wouldn’t realize I was missing until they reached the end of the conveyer belt
or ran into trouble themselves. I’d have to see this little scenario through myself.

I guessed I was lucky only having one single foe to face. Gripping the pipe with both hands and gritting my teeth, I waited for the ghoul to come within range of my swing. I’d have to see how my shoulder held up when the impact was made with the creature’s skull. I may only have been capable of one good swing with the weapon, so I had to make it count.

The shadowy zombie came within ten feet of my position and I prepared to swing the pipe. The creature let out a soft moan that almost sounded as though he hadn’t made the noise. Something moving in my peripheral vision caused me to turn my head slightly and I saw more slow moving silhouettes of human shapes around the workshop. I suddenly realized that the ghoul I was confronted with hadn’t emitted the groan. More of his cohorts surrounded the workbenches and lathes. They must have been lying on the floor in the shadows, in some kind of dormant trance as we’d passed through on the conveyer belt.

I was now in deep trouble, whether I had a shoulder injury or not. These zombies wouldn’t give a fuck of how much pain I was in. The other ghouls were negotiating their way around the workbenches and lathes towards me. I didn’t have time to pussyfoot around.

The zombie directly in front of me lurched forwards a couple more paces. I side stepped to give myself more of an angle and swung the pipe at his head. I still couldn’t see his features clearly but presumed from his size and hairstyle that he’d been a male in his former life. The metal pipe cracked against bone and I heard a splatter of gooey liquid spray onto the floor behind him. The blow jarred through my arm and felt like a ball of fire erupting in my shoulder.

“Son of a bitch,” I croaked, trying to keep my painful outburst as quiet as I could.

The ghoul I’d struck had disappeared from view. He’d gone down into the dark shadows but I couldn’t see if he was terminated or not. I couldn’t even see his body and he may have been crawling towards me with a huge gash in his head as I stood rooted to the spot, waiting for the pain to recede.

I couldn’t hang around any longer and staggered back to the conveyer belt. The zombies moaned excitedly as they closed in around me. I struggled to mount the two foot high roller belt
. It was no point calling to the others for help. They’d be too far away by now. I kept hold of the metal pipe but I was seriously considering drawing the handgun. I had no room to swing the metallic weapon and I was now trapped against the roller belt.

I frantically pushed myself up and forward, using the pipe as a kind of punting stick.
The undead moaned, bumping into the workbenches while making their way closer to the conveyer belt. I lay on my front and slipped onto the roller belt and my momentum took me gently forward on the rollers. I tucked the pipe under my arm and let myself roll towards the static vinyl covered section of the conveyer belt. If I tried to stand I’d fall off the belt again so I had to stay in the position I was.

I prodded the closest zombies away with the metal pipe. They tried to grab my weapon as I rolled by but I quickly snatched it back.
The roller section of the conveyer belt abruptly ended and I came to a sudden halt at the edge of the vinyl covered section, six feet from the square opening into the next area.

I pushed myself upward into a push-up position but my injured shoulder was too weak to hold my body weight and I sank down again onto my chest.

I glanced to my right and saw the silhouettes of the zombie’s heads bobbing closer. I’d managed to get a little way from them but now I was at a standstill, they were closing on me. The access door to the next room was only six feet away but I felt I didn’t have the strength to make it.

Chapter Fifty-Nine

I felt a hand grip hold of my right ankle. The sudden touch of grisly, dead hands and the thought of jagged teeth biting into my flesh suddenly spurred me onwards. Feeling a new lease of life and a burning desire not to die in this dark, dank workshop, I kicked out at the grabbing hand and forced myself forward on all fours. My arms ached and my shoulder stung like I’d been attacked by a nest of hornets but I carried on towards the square shaped opening at the end of the conveyer belt.

I heard the footfalls of the undead move closer and was aware of the shadows looming over me but I continued scrabbling along the conveyer belt, grunting with exertion. Another hand grabbed the strap of my backpack and tried to haul me off the belt. I waved the pipe and connected with an arm. I prodded the edge of the metal cylinder out into the silhouette of the head, roughly where the creature’s face would have been. I heard a dull thud and the zombie rocked backwards, releasing its grip on my rucksack.