Blood of the Dead: A Zombie Novel (Undead World Trilogy, Book One) (35 page)

The door closed and it sounded like something was placed on the small shelf sticking out of the wall, assuming the stall next to hers was laid out the same.

Knowing full well she shouldn’t pry and give the guy his privacy, she thought it wouldn’t matter if she snuck a peek at what the man had in his safety deposit box. She always thought it’d be cool to have one of those, to have a secret stash of private possessions that no one could get to no matter what, only you and you alone. And living at home with her folks where her mom did regular sweeps of her room to see if she was hiding anything never afforded her that luxury.

“Why not?” she said and put her hands up against the wall dividing her stall and the one next to it.

Just take a peek then go. Won’t hurt nobody if I don’t stay and linger,
she thought, easing her guilt.

Billie walked through the wall, the slow
pressing through
now familiar. She emerged just behind the man.

He wore a long, white overcoat and a white velvet fedora.

Suddenly the man spun around and his blue eyes ignited in bright flame.

39

In the Bowels of the Earth

“Didn’t find her, huh?” Joe said when August walked up to him. The old man’s presence was comforting in light of him being the only one aware of his being there.

“Nothing. Not a pink hair.”

“Any trouble on the stairs?”

August smirked, obviously getting what Joe was driving at. “My feet slipped through a couple of times. Actually, one time significantly. I went through one flight and landed on another.”

“Landed on an—How did you stop yourself from going through?”

The old man furrowed his brow, as if to recall the memory. “I don’t know. Something along the lines of ‘Help!’ ran through my mind. That’s all I remember. I landed on the stairs. A couple of people were coming up them and they stepped right into me and passed me by. Anyway, I checked the rooms downstairs, the maintenance room, the lunchroom and all that. She’s not here. At least from what we can see.”

An idea struck him. “Since we can’t touch anything and since we’re invisible, do you think this is the first step in something bigger? Like, we’re slowly fading from existence?”

August shook his head. “I don’t know. Maybe. But I think God has something else in mind for us.”

It was only a matter of time before August brought up the G-word again. But Joe had to admit that in light of all that he’d experienced, the possibility of God was a strong one. “Okay, I’ll go with you on this for a second. If God’s placed us here, what’s the point? What’re we supposed to do?”

The old man didn’t reply.

“See, that’s it. There’s
nothing
we can do. Noth-ing. Can’t touch anything. Except, well, maybe the floor, depending, right? Billie nearly went through the sidewalk out there. You went through the stairs. But you also stopped yourself, somehow. And I’ve got my feet planted.” Then as if saying so was a trigger, something grabbed his ankles and tugged him into the tiled flooring.

“Joe!” August yelled and reached for him.

Just before the old man’s hands touched his, another violent tug yanked him downward. The bank and August slipped from view and he was looking up at a ceiling.

Something had him. When he checked his feet, there was nothing but air. The tan tiled flooring of the room below rushed up to meet him and, like above, he was sucked straight through this level as well.

Darkness surrounded him.

* * * *

Shock shook Billie’s innards and she tumbled back. Just as she began to pass through the stall’s door, a strong hand grabbed her by the shirt collar and yanked her upright, bringing her face to face with the man with the fiery eyes.

“You’re not supposed to be here, Billie Friday,” he said. His tone was firm and carried an authority that seemed almost otherworldly.

The words never really formed in her mind but more so did in her heart, and she wondered how he knew her name.

The man let go and left her to stand on rubbery legs.

The flames dancing in his eyes sparkled and she felt compelled to slowly sink to her knees before him. As she began to lower herself, he drew her back onto her feet.

“Don’t do that,” he said, withdrawing his hand from her. The flames faded, bright and beautiful blue eyes shining forth.

“I don’t . . . I don’t know why I . . .” She knew what she was trying to say but her tongue suddenly felt five inches thick. She wanted to know what he was and why she felt so small—so insignificant—in his presence.

Her fingers trailed the collar of her shirt.
He touched me.
“You touched . . .”

He nodded.

“You know my name, too.” Her voice sounded far away even to herself.

“I do.” He glanced back to the silver box on the table. “Billie, listen to me. I want you to turn around and leave this place. You may never speak of meeting me.” He eyed the silver box again.

“Time is short. There’s—” The man cocked his head. “Oh no . . .” And spun around and grabbed what appeared to be an old, gold-plated antique watch from the safety deposit box. He held the watch up and examined it.

* * * *

In the absence of light, Joe was pulled further and further downward, the darkness so thick, so hopeless, that even his own screams were sucked up by its depth.

April . . .
he thought.

Sound brewed below and the further he dropped, the louder it became. High-pitched and filled with fear, he quickly realized it as the desperate screams of those being tormented. He’d heard similar screams before, ones when the undead overcame the living and began to devour their flesh while they were still alive. But this was so much more than that. Those screams had been those of a few. These ones were those of thousands. Of millions.

The sound enveloped him and encased him like a swarm of locusts. No way out. No reprieve from their ear-piercing noise.

Ears ringing from the deafening shrieks and screeches, barely able to concentrate, brain about to explode, Joe fell further into the dark.

The air grew warm, thick and dry. Then it grew warmer still, like that of a sauna. The heat intensified and the image of a red hot burner on a stove flashed before his mind. A sudden sense of permanence invaded his whole being and he found himself resigning to the reality there was no escape from this place.

He was alone and he knew it. Billie and August and the world above were fading quickly into distant memory. His life with April before the rise of the undead seemed so far away it was as if it had never happened at all.

The idea of being forgotten by all who knew him stole his breath away.

The acrid stench of sharp smoke and burnt meat pierced his nostrils, immediately locking up his stomach, making him want to throw up.

The pale glow of flame brewed in the distance, its expanse as far as his eyes could see to either side. The shrieks and screams rose from the fire and filled the air. Even where he stood, shaking, he could barely hear his own thoughts above their shouts of terror.

Whispers in the dark, somewhere behind him.

He turned around to face them and with a trembling hand tried to pull out the X-09. The hot metal of its handle bit into his palm when he tried to grab it and he had no choice but to leave it in its holster.

“Where . . . am I?” he barely managed. Even the breaths needed to speak were near unbearable as the intense heat on the air invaded his lungs, scorching the inside of his chest.

Coughing, he tried to make out the source of the whispers in the faint glow cast by the flames now behind him.

It was strange he could even hear these whispers above the calls and shouts of what sounded like countless people being burned alive.

Knees aching, he wanted to collapse but couldn’t find the will to do so. It was as if something was forcing him to stand there and endure.

A scaled foot appeared out of the shadows, then another then another until four creatures with long, bulbous arachnid bodies, their skin coated in dark green and black scales, appeared out of the dark. Long sinewy arms and legs ran off their torsos, ending with a pair of hands and feet with slender fingers and toes, each digit sporting a long dark claw. Black, leathery wings, each one tipped with a lead-like spike, draped over their muscled shoulders like capes.

Their eyes, rimmed with flaky skin, pale gray with blue irises, bore into him with hate, their glare enough to make him take several steps back.

He stepped on something and when he turned, standing before him were legions of these things, all lined up like a massive army, waiting to strike. Each one watched him.

The strength ran from his legs and whatever force had been holding him upright released. His knees smacked the hot stone floor with a resounding
whack
that echoed throughout his bones.

Palms sizzling against the hot floor, the stench of burning flesh filling his nose all the way to the back of his throat, he couldn’t find the strength to pull his hands up.

The creatures worked their way toward him, long, sinewy fingers outstretched, their claws tickling the air, as if already tasting the kill.

* * * *

August didn’t know how long he’d been on his hands and knees, shouting into the floor, calling for Joe.

Shaking, he got to his feet and took off for the stairs, hoping that Joe had just merely fallen through the main level and was lying on his back in one of the rooms below.

* * * *

“It has begun,” the man in the white coat said.

“What?” Billie asked.

He took the watch, stuffed it in his coat pocket and grabbed her by the arm. With a violent push, he shoved her
through
the stall’s door, his body passing through it along with hers.

No one seemed to notice them as they emerged on the other side and Billie could only guess he had just somehow made himself invisible like her.

The ground shook, each vibration sending a shockwave of fear up Billie’s spine. The man in the coat squinted his eyes, flames licking their edges, his grip on her arm increasing.

The old man stopped short when he seemed to take note that the man in the white coat wasn’t just somebody she was standing beside but rather someone with flaming eyes who held her arm.