Hamsikker 2 (12 page)

“Pippa, what are you doing? Stop!” Jonas charged across the floor to grab her, to bring her back inside and away from the door, but she was too quick for him. The door flung open, and Pippa opened her arms.

“Peter, honey, come here,” she said.

Her voice wavered as she spoke, and Jonas watched as Peter did just as his mother asked. He fell into his crying mother’s open arms, his pale skin damp and glistening. Peter’s mouth opened revealing bloodstained teeth, and Jonas shouted for help as he raised his axe.

“Pippa, no!”

CHAPTER EIGHT

There was a moment when Jonas thought he was too late. Peter and Pippa were wrestling in the office, and he could practically hear Pippa’s flesh being torn from her body. He could sense every one of Peter’s teeth sinking into Pippa’s neck, slicing through the pale skin before clenching onto the soft succulent meat that protected her windpipe. Jonas could see Pippa’s bright red blood begin pumping out of her, spurting out over her dead son’s face like a torrential swollen river bursting its banks. Pippa’s eyes were glazed, confused, the irises too large, the white of her eyes snaked with broken red capillaries.

With a nauseating crunch, the axe smashed into the back of Peter’s head, and Pippa was instantly free.

“Hamsikker, what have you done? My God, Peter… What have you done to my Peter, my…”

Jonas didn’t wait to see if Peter was getting back up or to see who was following him through the open doorway. Jonas grabbed Pippa by the scruff of her neck and threw her toward the warehouse. She had somehow escaped being bitten by Peter, but Jonas knew he wouldn’t be able to protect them both in the close confines of the office.

“Get Erik,” he barked at her. “Get inside, and tell everyone we’re under attack.
Go
!”

Pippa looked at the prostrate body of her son at Jonas’s feet, Peter’s brains oozing slowly from the massive crack in the back of his skull. Thick, dark blood seeped out and curdled around Peter’s shoulders. Pippa raised a hand to her mouth.

“Go now, Pippa.” Jonas couldn’t afford for her to freak out now. She had to warn the others, and prepare them to fight or flee. He heard a scuffle behind him and knew the others were outside, at his back, and would follow Peter inside the building any moment. “Fucking move!”

Turning his back on Pippa as she disappeared into the warehouse, he felt a bead of sweat trickle down his back. It was happening again. It seemed as if the dead followed them everywhere. There was so much killing still to be done. Peter was dead, but there were still dozens more zombies out there standing between him and Janey.

Before he could reach the door to lock it, a woman appeared in the doorway and charged at him. All he saw was a flash of blue and white as the woman’s summer dress flew around her like a superhero’s cape. The woman’s face was hideously disfigured, as if she had been tortured before her death. Her ears had been gnawed away to nothing but stumps, and her hair was cut short, revealing a tattoo of a scorpion on her left temple. There was nothing behind her eyes, just death, and Jonas brought his axe up to meet the rushing woman. The axe head buried itself into the woman’s chest, smashing through her ribcage, sending splinters of bone into the air which rained down on Jonas like brittle confetti. Jonas pushed her back, keeping both hands on the axe, and fought to push her down to the ground. Wedged in the doorway, Jonas put his boot on the woman’s neck and dislodged the axe from her chest. He swung it down, smashing it into her head, and the woman went limp.

Another figure appeared in the doorway, and Jonas looked straight up into the eyes of the backpacker. There had been times in the past, when faced with other demons, Jonas had wanted to give up. It had left him feeling defeated, deflated, and unable to convince himself that he could carry on. But looking into the dead man’s eyes, Jonas didn’t feel like that now. He felt angry. He was pissed off that his friends were dying around him, and he couldn’t do anything about it. Why Peter? Was this the zombie that had killed him?

Fuck You, thought Jonas as he ran at the dead man, fuck You for doing this to us, and for making me do this. Dakota’s wrong. You’re not on our side. You’ve made a pact with the devil. You might have abandoned us, but we’re not going easy.

Jonas whirled the axe above his head and lopped off the backpacker’s head with one blow. The body crumpled, and Jonas jumped over it to the outside. He slammed the door behind him and wondered how long it would be before Pippa brought reinforcements. The yard was full of them, and he wasn’t sure how long he would be able to hold them off. The early morning air was dry, and the sky was a deep blue. There were still a few stars twinkling in the clear sky, and the rising sun was dressing the dead in costumes of grey shadows.

With his back to the door, Jonas let them come to him. He didn’t need to go looking for them. They were heading right for him anyway. If things turned bad, he had the door behind him to retreat through. He hoped it wouldn’t come to that though. If he was forced back inside, they would be trapped. As the dead neared, his heart beat faster, and he made sure he kept the anger inside him burning. The desire to kill each and every last one of the dead burned so strongly that he couldn’t wait to get started. It didn’t matter that the odds were against him. He had the edge on them, and he knew it. He had his family behind him to protect, and he had plenty of motivation to take down every last one of them. Jonas was determined that none of them would get past him into the building.

Two zombies reached him at the same time, their four arms twisting and groping through the air to get to him first. Jonas sliced off their hands, severing them all at the wrist, and he was rewarded with four bloody stumps flying at his face. He managed to deflect the first zombie by kicking its feet out from under it, and he ducked as the other tried to take a bite out of his shoulder. The axe did the rest of the work, and he took off both their heads. Another zombie came up to him, an overweight man with a bald head and two heavily tattooed arms. Jonas aimed for the man’s head, but his thick arms knocked Jonas off course, and the axe lodged itself in the man’s shoulder. Wrenching it free, Jonas brought the axe around again and carved out a hole in the man’s side. A stinking, slithering pile of intestines spilled out, still pink and rubbery, and Jonas felt a wave of nausea grip him. There was no time to feel sorry for himself, though, and he heaved the axe one last time. This time the zombie caught the full force of the axe, and the man’s bald head split open with an audible crack. Jonas pushed the body away and made a break for the van. He remembered they had left it unlocked in case of a problem just like this, and he needed more than his axe to defeat them all. There were close to twenty or thirty now, and Jonas could only guess they were coming from the town. They had been drawn here, summoned, and nothing was going to stop them. They kept coming, drawn by the noise, or their hunger, or whatever it was that made the dead walk.

He slid back the van door and reached under the seat for the weapon stash. The first thing his hands found was Erik’s Glock. He spun around and took aim, firing off round after round at the advancing dead. They fell where they stood, and Jonas managed to kill half a dozen before the chamber clicked empty. He looked at the warehouse, at the entrance, but nobody was coming. Surely Pippa had raised the alarm? Surely someone had heard the gunshots?

Frustrated, he threw the gun back into the van and reached inside for something else. Pulling back a blanket, he uncovered their small arsenal. A hammer, a couple of knives, and a heavy looking wrench were amongst other hand tools that Gabe must’ve thrown in the van back at Saint Paul’s. Jonas noticed a row of metal teeth attached to a shiny black handle protruding out from underneath the seat. He grabbed it and stood as he admired the handheld chainsaw. Finally, something he could use. It must’ve been used to trim the hedges and bushes around the course. Jonas intended to use it to trim more than just leaves, and he pressed on a small red button, checking the status of the rechargeable battery. It was half charged, but that was all the power he needed. He quietly thanked Gabe for throwing it in the van and then turned back to the yard. He saw that the zombies had converged on his position and were pushed together. They were barely fifteen feet from him, and he dropped his axe in the van.

The chainsaw roared into life, and Jonas stepped forward. There was no going back from what he was about to do. He accepted there was a good chance this was going to end badly for him, but he simply couldn’t see any other way.

“Go!”

Suddenly Quinn raced out of the office with Erik and Gabe behind her, and they sprinted for the van. Knowing that he wasn’t on his own gave him the boost he needed, and he faced the dead with confidence.

“Kill the dead!” Jonas screamed. Gripping the chainsaw with both hands, he ran into the crowd of zombies. The first to fall was a child, and Jonas swept the chainsaw’s blade through the top of its head. He had little time to aim, as the next zombie fell upon him instantly. Hands tried to grab him, but he spun the saw around and around, cutting a way through anything that tried to get near him. Gallons of blood spewed into the air, thick droplets splattering Jonas’s face as the whirling blade slashed off body parts, severing arms and hands and heads.

“Hamsikker, watch your back!”

Jonas thought he heard Quinn’s voice, but over the thrumming din of the chainsaw, he wasn’t sure. He had no time to turn and look either, as the zombies kept coming for him. He wasn’t finished yet. Jonas pushed his way into the dense crowd wielding his chainsaw like a crusader’s sword. The weight of the closely packed zombies made progress hard as he stumbled over dismembered limbs, and the bodies pressed in on him like a thick blanket. Decapitated arms tried to trip him up, but he could not stop,
would
not stop. He scythed his way through the undead men, women and children, faces twisted by hate, bodies rotting and reanimated by God knows what. More and more hands and arms dropped at his feet as he whirled the chainsaw in front of him. The dead tried to surround him, to attack from all angles, and Jonas swung the weapon to the front and back, and from side to side, not caring who or what he hit. The chainsaw’s teeth were beginning to slow, chunks of flesh clogging up the machinery, and the sheer number of dead it had carved through was beginning to draw on its fading power. The stench was disgusting, and blood sprayed over him, drenching him in death.

Kicking away a head, its jaws still snapping at his ankles, Jonas heard a faint scream above the clamor and moan of the zombies. He pushed on, refusing to buckle, knowing he had to continue. Time meant nothing anymore, and it took as long as it took. He heard gunshots, but couldn’t be sure who was firing, and until the dead were gone, they weren’t safe. Dakota was relying on him. The chainsaw was heavy, and his arms ached. Muscles that hadn’t been used in months were pulled taut. His brain was screaming at him to stop, but he refused to listen, only obeying his heart which told him to go on. His head swam, sweat poured down his back, and then suddenly she was there. A slight gap in the zombies opened up, and he saw Quinn standing before him. A mixture of blood and sweat had formed over him, forcing him to look at everything through a red mist, as if viewing the world through a tinted camera lens. He had made it. Through a wave of undead, he had come through it. Quinn held his axe in her hands. It only took a second, but he took it all in.

She was swaying unsteadily, her eyes closed, blood pouring from her head. Jonas was elated. Quinn must have took his axe from the van, circled around the other side of the crowd, and fought them off. He went to hug her, but then Quinn opened her eyes, and Jonas felt the familiar storm clouds gather once again. The clouds that he had long dispelled grew quickly. Quinn’s eyes had clouded over, and her arms hung loose at her sides. The axe clattered to the floor as her hand dropped it. As she slowly raised her arms, he saw the chunks missing from her shoulders, the skin that had been flayed from her hands and arms, and the blood that continued to pour from her head. She took a step toward him and almost fell. One foot had been bent backward a full 180 degrees, and it was then that he noticed the blood covering her body too. Her jeans were torn, and blood poured from the ripped holes. Tornados of doubt surged through him, and darkness engulfed his core. His heart skipped a beat, and then the darkness fell. It was pointless fighting it. The darkness was so overwhelming that he could hardly breathe. His body told him to stop – stop fighting, stop running, just stop and wait for the inevitable. He couldn’t protect them. The gunshots had stopped. Would the others fare any better than him? What was the point in trying to close the gates to Hell when there was no lock?

A furious wind abruptly swept through the yard, cool air carrying dying leaves with it, and they slapped against Jonas’ face as he stood there staring at Quinn. A hand gripped his shoulder, and he looked up at the sky. It was lighter blue now, suggesting it was going to be a beautiful sunny day. As Jonas looked up into the sweet sky another hand wrapped itself around his leg. He could feel cold fingers grasp his knee, but he couldn’t bring himself to do anything about it. There were so many. Quinn was with them now, Dakota probably too. Quinn, Peter, Tyler – all of them. Was he the last one?

He felt the hand on his shoulder grip him fiercely, the fingernails starting to pinch his skin and pull at his shirt. The red mist parted slightly, and he looked at Quinn again. She was shouting at him to move, to come to her. The blood pouring from her head was real, but she was moving freely, and her face was full of energy. Her skin was smooth, like a dark pebble, and she was using his axe to beat in the head of a zombie. The silence of the dead was replaced with a rushing blood in his ears, and the tumultuous storm that had appeared in his head vanished. Like a light switch clicking off, he realized he wasn’t the last one alive, and he was never going to give in. Through the red mist he had let himself be tricked, letting the weak part of his mind fool him into thinking Quinn was dead. He shut that part of his brain down, forcing himself to look at Quinn. She was real, and the dead were inches away from him, ready to bite.