Dead Hunger IV: Evolution (18 page)

A stairwell appeared on her right.  Lisa mounted the diamond mesh
steps
and moved up at speed.  At the top a small chain dangled with a sign.  She lifted the chain and pulled it across the top, clipping it on the other side.  The sign said “RESTRICTED.”

That ought to do it,
she though
t
. 
They’ll read that and turn right around.

As she looked down, they came into view.  The noise
g
rew louder and louder, and suddenly they were everywhere.

A gunshot rang out in the distance.  Then a cacophony of gunshots.  Rapid fire. 

The creatures
below took no notice of
the noise.  As Lisa stood looking down, her body frozen in place, afraid to move, forty or so
dead, blistered and horrific
faces seemed to lift at once, looking up at her.

Vapor began wafting from several of them; the true hunters who had eaten recently and could produce the gas from their tear ducts for the sole purpose of rendering their victims easier to consume.

Lisa ran along the catwalk and came to a metal door at the end.  She pulled on it.  Locked.

The zombies mounted the stairs.  Lisa had to run back by the chain she’d hooked to go in a different direction.

No use delaying.  She ran.  Her feet rang against the metal and the entire thing shuddered and reverberated as she moved.  She took the right turn, passed the group advancing upward, and found two paths.  She might not have the option to make a third choice.

She went left this time.  There was another door, but it was farther away.  She could
look down over the railing and clearly see
the end of the pack of zombies
who had caught her scent.  In the end there had to be sixty of them.

More gunfire echoed through the building.  Lisa looked back down at the stairs. 

Full.  Pushing against one another, turning to watch her as they scrambled up, up.  The top ones had not yet reached the chain, but in two more steps they would.

Lisa shook off her fear and ran toward the distant door.  She reached for the knob and turned it, finding it free.  As she pushed the door open, she ran headlong into a man’s chest. 

She screamed as she bounced
away from the thing’s clawing hands, landing hard on her back on the metal grating.  She turned her head to see two of the zombies make it clear of the chain and turn in the right direction to reach her.

The thing that stood before her
was not a live man; he was a dead man with half a face but all of his desire for her flesh.
  His fingers were rotted off at the first knuckle, and as she looked down at his
shoeless
feet, she was shocked to see nearly every bone exposed, with bits of shredded flesh clinging to them.

The urushiol bottle had flipped from her belt when she crashed into the creature, but it had landed behind her.  She
scrambled back and grabbed the bottle, and as she turned he was right behind her.  She held it out and sprayed two quick pumps into his face.

His tattered hands clawed at his eyes and mouth, tearing away yet more of his dead skin, and Lisa saw an opportunity.  She leaned back and raised her right leg like a cop ready to kick in a meth lab door.  She quickly extended her leg, and sent the zombie flying over the low, metal railing, plummeting atop
h
is
brothers and sisters
below.

Scrambling back to her feet, she again ran for the door, this time the urushiol bottle held in front of her.  It held perhaps three or four more sprays before it sucked air.

She hadn’t brought a headlamp, and it was darker in this next room.  If something did lurk there, she would not see it.  The clanging on the catwalk grew louder as her shambling stalkers grew closer.  She slammed the door behind her and was relieved to find a knob
lock, which she quickly turned.

Lisa leaned against the door and tried to breath
e
.

And listen.

*****

“We can’t get in that way, Flex,” said Dave.  “Too many of them to kill them all.  Some might already be inside.”

They watched as
more
rotters pushed through the door, flooding inside the building.  Flex knew their sense of smell, or food, or radar, or whatever the hell it was would lead them to Lisa in no time.

“Jesus, I gotta think!” said Flex, frustrated.  He wasn’t used to his own getting in trouble they couldn’t get out of.  Spoiled rotten, being surrounded by so many damned good people with highly developed survival skills.

Dave slapped him on the arm and he looked at him.

“Flex.  I got an idea.”

“Spill it.”

“The cowcatcher.  That sucker looks strong as hell.”

“Hemp welded the shit out of it.  I’ve pushed tons of walkers with it – half of that with you in the truck.”

“Exactly,” said Dave, excited.  He stroked his beard, then took the radio from Flex’s hand. 

“Lisa, you on?”

Two seconds passed, and her tiny but strong voice came on.  “Yeah, Davey?  Have you got something?  A plan?”

“I do.  We’re gonna have to find you with sound.  Those bastards can’t hear anyway, so
it’s not a risk.”

“What do you want me to do,” asked Lisa.

“I’m going to bang on the outside of the building.  It’s metal, so it should be easy to hear.”

“Then what?”

“
When that bang
sounds like I’m right outside
, I want you to get to the wall and bang back.  I don’t know which side of the building you’re on, though.”

“When I came in, I stayed left,” she said.
  “But Davey, I’m upstairs!”

“Shit!” Dave said, looking at Flex.

“Don’t worry about it, Dave.  It’s a way to find out where she is.  But what then?”

“Hold on,” he said, pushing the talk button on the radio.  “Lisa, that’s good.  You’re on the same side of the building as we are.  Are you safe right now?”

“I’m locked in a room.  I ran into one, but I beat him.”

“Literally?”

“Pretty much.  Hurry, Davey.  I don’t know how long that door will hold.”

“Got it, sis.  Got any rounds left?”

“Two, and about one or two sprays of repellent.”

“Cute.  Only use it if you have to, sis, but don’t hesitate if you need it.  We’re coming.”

Dave clicked off and handed the radio back to Flex.  He nodded and ran over to the building.  Flex hopped in the truck and fired the engine, following Gammon.

Dave started at the front corner and ran along the sides, pounding on the corrugated metal sides.  Twenty-five yards.  No return sounds.  Fifty yards.

A sound.  Pounding.  Frantic.

“Flex, time to test that fuckin’ cow catcher for all it’s worth.  Hold on.”

Flex got it.  Use the wedge-shaped cow catcher to pierce the outer skin of the building and make a new door.  He collected the two spray bottles of urushiol from the seat and put them in his lap.

Dave pounded until it rang hollow in return.  He then banged on either side of it to see how wide it was.  He turned, a tentative smile on his face, and called, “We’ve got an eight-foot gap between support beams here, Flex!”

Flex stopped the truck ten feet from the building.

“Get in, buddy.  We’re gonna thread the fuckin’ needle.”

Dave ran and yanked open the passenger side door, jumping in beside Flex. 

“Slap a new mag in the AK, Dave.  Then spin the gun around.  I don’t want to damage the barrel.  That sucker might be our saving grace.”

“I didn’t even think of that!” said Dave
.

“We’ll see how it fares, buddy. Buckle up and hold on!”

Flex reversed the truck another ten feet, giving him a twenty-food running start. 

“Say a prayer, dude.”

He gunned it.  They had reached twenty-four miles per hour when the Chevy slammed into the side of the building, splitting it open like a watermelon at a
n
old Gallagher comedy show.

What they didn’t know was what lay beyond that wall.

It was a series of tall, metal racks, and they tumbled like dominoes, one against the other.  Flex pulled the headlights on, and the light shone on zombies getting crushed underneath the toppling racks, and the truck stopped suddenly about twelve feet in.

The faces of the surviving, free zombies stared toward them.  Flex looked up at the catwalk, where several creatures pressed against a single, metal door.

“Spin the gun, Dave!  And start firing!”

Dave spun the gun around, but it jammed before making its entire turn.  It aimed uselessly off at a 45 degree angle to the right – where zero zombies advanced.

“Fuck it, brother, grab the portable!”

“Wait, Flex!  Grab yours and hold them off.  We’re in a great position if I can free it!”

Dave unsnapped his seatbelt and lowered the window.  He crawled out, and sat on the window frame as he struggled with what Flex assumed was a bent piece of aluminum siding.  Grunting.  His leg kicked Flex in the arm.

“Dave, if you can’t get it, fuck it!”

“I got it, man!” said Dave, dropping back inside.  He spun the gun easily around, turned to Flex, gave him a wink, and began
firing, throwing spent shells all over the cab and exploding
the heads o
f every shambler within eyeshot like giant paintballs.

When the gun stopped firing, Dave nodded at Flex.  “Let’s go get my damned sister.”

“Well then, okay,” said Flex.  They opened
their doors
and got out.  The big guns strapped over their shoulders, Flex had the Glock in one hand and a spray bottle in the other.  Dave had his Walther PPK, sans silencer, and his bottle of repellent, as Lisa had called it.

They moved toward the catwalk stairs, crawling under and over the fallen racks and only wasting rounds on the zombies who had any hope of getting free before they accomplished their mission.

*****

Lisa sat, her back to the door, listening to the crashing and automatic gunfire beyond her dark prison of indeterminable strength.

She wanted to yell, “Go fucking get ‘em, guys!  Kill them and get me the hell out of here!” but she held her breath.

The door behind her moved.  A full inch, she could swear.

She’d locked it, but she hadn’t checked to see if the door even latched.  Damn!  It was a military installation!  Surely they kept the interior locks in good repair!

Something hit the door hard, and she was knocked forward.  This time it had to have opened two inches. 

It was still too dark to see very far
inside
the room, but there was no way she could get up now.  Her weight against the door wasn’t much, but for now it was all that was keeping them out, as far as she knew.

Tears began to run down her face.  Nowhere to run.  A little vapor from their glowing eyes, and she’d be meat.

Dead meat.

“Dave!  Flex!  Hurry!” she cried, the door behind her slamming into her back as though on cue.

Calm yourself
, she thought. 
Think about what Gem or Charlie would do.

The answer came to her.  Those women would never get caught in this position.  Well armed, always ready.  She meant to learn those lessons, but there clearly hadn’t been enough time.

“No,” said Lisa, aloud.  “No way am I out of time.”

Then a thought struck her. 

Doorstops.

She’d noticed it without giving it much consideration.  The door had a pivoting door stop mounted on the outside, which made sense, since it swung inward.

She looked at the wall in the direction the door swung.  The door was mounted to clear the wall by no more than an inch.  If she could get behind it . . .

She moved her right hand down to the floor and slid her fingers beneath.  She felt around, trying to feel the base of the doorstop.

No . . . no . . . no . . .

She worried one of them was on the floor, its nose pressed against the gap underneath the door, smelling her, anticipating her taste.

No . . . no . . . yes!  She felt the coolness of the brass.  She pushed her hand farther beneath, and tried to curl her fingers behind the long piece and . . . pull . . . it . . . there!

She felt the brass stop drop, its rubber tip hitting the floor.

More gunfire outside the room gave her the final burst of courage.  She leapt to her feet and pulled the door open, sliding behind it lightning fast and pulling the knob to her.

She felt, rather than saw them fall in as the door opened.  Moans, stink and cries filled the room.

She
flattened herself against the wall behind the door and laughed.  She laughed so hard that she had achieved a Gem and Charlie moment!  She did it!