When There's No More room In Hell: A Zombie Novel by Luke Duffy Page B
Authors: Luke Duffy
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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
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
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