Hellifax (37 page)

“Army?” Scott asked.

“Army. This way.”

They made their way toward the parking lot area, avoiding any holes in the roof where the structure might have been weakened by the shelling. The cars farthest away came slowly into view.

Scott faltered to a stop when he saw the scope of what was swarming amongst the deserted vehicles.

“You okay?” Amy turned and asked.

“We have to go back.”

“Just a moment.”

“Amy,” Scott grated. “If this was a movie, this would be the part where the audience would be slapping their foreheads and screaming at us to head back.”

“Listen, we’re above them. Okay? And last time I checked, they can’t climb.”

“
Amy
… Goddamn it.”

“You coming, then?” Without waiting for an answer, she left him, obviously not bothered if he accompanied her further or not. Scott hesitated, threw his head back in exasperation, and followed. They hunkered down as they got closer to the edge, not wanting to be seen.

Then they saw it.

The zombies on the lot, perhaps a hundred or more, writhed and wailed as rats devoured them from the ground up. Figures staggered from car to car, some falling on hoods as the vermin coated them from head to foot in a wriggling mass. Some gimps reached out to the moon, holding up arms covered in swinging rodents. Other did nothing, muddling along the cars as the teeming tide chewed away at their feet and ankles until they collapsed. When the corpses fell, they disappeared from sight in seconds, covered in hairy crawlers. Scott saw the soldier gimp marching away from the doors, as if trying to escape. Rats piled onto the figure, clinging by jaws and claws, and the deadhead did nothing to stop them. They ripped the unprotected parts of its person, bypassing the body armor. The soldier cried out, some inarticulate whale song that Scott thought haunting, as the rats burrowed inside its still upright carcass. Within seconds, the figure toppled to its hands and knees, and rats swarmed it in a gush. A moment later, its torso sunk to the ground, as if its hands had been gnawed away from underneath it. The soldier rolled to a sitting position, like a chunk of ice righting itself in water. An arm gave way and it toppled over onto its back, then disappeared under the diseased deluge.

“I’ve seen enough,” Amy whispered.

“Huh?” Scott blurted, freaked out by the feeding frenzy.

“Let’s go,” she said and started backing away from the edge of the roof. Scott followed, perhaps never so grateful to run from something in all of his life. He watched where they both walked, not wanting to plunge through an unseen skylight or have some other freak accident and alert the veritable blob just behind them.

“They’re something, eh?” Amy asked, dropping back to his side.

“I can’t believe the things exist.”

“Funny, too. Viruses don’t usually jump from one organism to another. Unless it’s mutated. But this one did. I wonder if it’s gotten to any other animal?”

“Christ, I hope not.”

They retraced their footsteps in the snow.

“See anything interesting?” Buckle asked as they climbed down on the ladder.

Scott shook his head, visions of rats devouring deadheads still in his mind. He knew he’d have nightmares sooner or later.

“We have to get away from here. Not much time.”

“What’s over there?” Vick asked. “We could hear Moe.”

“Moe was being eaten alive,” Amy replied.

“Rats?” Vick asked.

Amy started walking. “Yeah.”

They labored through the snow, away from the parking lot area, and eventually disappeared into the trees. They left the Dalplex center and made their way through high, unblemished drifts, heading for the road.

Fortunately, the rats did not follow them.

Not right away.

After several minutes, Tenner crossed onto South Street and jogged for two blocks, over cluttered avenues where the snow had been trampled by countless feet, creating an icy mat that threatened to upend him if he moved much faster. There were no Philistines about and, more importantly, no rats. The vermin seemed to be swinging far to the left, drawn to dead meat. He felt like a gunslinger, swaggering down a deserted street and waiting for anyone to step into view to challenge him. He knew he was on the right path for some reason, and he had learned long ago to trust his instincts. The armor he wore slowed him, its weight considerable, but he wasn’t about to relinquish it. Not after what he’d seen.

Far ahead in a street that glowed in the moonlight, stepping out from between trapped vehicles like shooting targets popping into existence, he saw two shadows. Tenner scurried behind a car, flattening his upper body over the trunk. With the moon still full in the sky and a backdrop of white snow, it was easy to make out the shadows crossing the road, four in total.

Holy shit.
He’d found them.

Well, he’d found
someone.
The city attracted the odd survivor into its web, for whatever reasons. With such a high number of undead running around, not to mention the new and oddly fascinating presence of the rats, Tenner had made the decision to get the hell out of Dodge once he finished his hunt. He fully intended to load up whatever curry and supplies he could aboard his SUV and move out.

But first… First he’d finish what he’d set out to do.

When the dark figures slipped out of view, he crept from his hiding place and double-timed it up the street, his AR-20 shouldered and pointed at the ground. He jogged only as fast as necessary, to keep things from rattling. He looked around at times, scouring the shadows and ensuring there were no zombies or rats nearby.

Mustn’t spook them. Mustn’t, mustn’t.
He repeated the words in his mind. The shadows were out of sight, one with the dark, and he hoped he wouldn’t lose the trail. A waist-high stone wall lay on his right, and behind that a great empty space opened up behind a high, wire mesh fence. An athletic field, perhaps. Across the street, a series of townhouses or low apartment buildings blocked any further view. He hoped the buildings were empty. He didn’t need to run into another nest. As he got closer to where he’d last spied the four figures, he slowed down and studied the snow. There were plenty of tracks, but he wasn’t certain if they belonged to his prey or to Philistines.

Once Tenner reached the area where he believed the others had crossed, he stooped over, keeping a row of cars on his right, and peeked in between the derelict wrecks, looking for signs of passage. There were several, but he still wasn’t sure if they belonged to the living. Checking his rear flanks and seeing the coast was clear, he continued his hunt. Ahead, towering trees spread their bare limbs across the night sky, fracturing the moonlight. Behind them, low buildings birthed a courtyard of darkness and made it difficult to see.

Tenner crouched and trotted toward the rows of dark buildings, raising his weapon and hoping he was heading in the right direction. He kept checking the snow for tracks, hoping his quarry would not be caught by the rats or Philistines.

That would piss him off to no end.

Led by Amy, they left the road and skirted further inward, aiming to cut though a cluster of buildings when that plan became suddenly impossible. Underneath the dark shape of a pedway, walking as if asleep, was another crowd of zombies, lingering in the space between the buildings as if trapped. They swayed and cried out softly, oblivious to the approaching living. Under Amy’s direction, they dropped to their bellies and lay flat in the snow.

“We’re heading over there,” Amy whispered. “Just follow me. I think I saw an open door at the bottom of that one place. A dormitory’s fire exit, maybe.”

“A residence?” Scott almost stopped in his tracks. “That could be a nest.”

“That’s a nest out there,” Amy said. “But I think I can get us around them.”

“How do you know this place?”

“My husband stayed here for a year. He went to Dalhousie.”

Oh.
His stomach suddenly fell away.
She’s married?
For the first time that night, he was grateful for the dark.

“Lead on, Amy,” Vick huffed. “Get us out of this shit.”

Hugging trees and ducking behind cars, the four kept out of sight and crept toward the open portal. Reaching it, they quickly disappeared inside. Buckle quietly closed the door, and they found themselves in a stairwell. Amy went down a level and disappeared into darkness. The men followed reluctantly, finding her at another closed door at the bottom level.

“Through here and out another door and we’re into a parking area,” Amy said. “Okay?”

The men grunted; they were fine with the idea.

Amy pulled the door open and went inside. Scott breathed in air that felt more like a meat freezer than a student residence. Darkness swallowed them, sending waves of unease through Scott. He couldn’t see Amy.

“Can’t see shit,” Buckle whispered.

“Keep a hand on the right wall,” Amy said from ahead. “Just stay out of the rooms.”

Thankful that there weren’t too many turns, they reached out and used the wall to guide themselves down the hall. Some of the surfaces were grainy, but some were knobby and sticky with an unknown substance. The dark became a rhythm of wall and door. Amy tripped on something—twice—and warned Scott and the others of whatever was on the floor. He nudged the floor with his toes, feeling his way down the hall. A faint smell of decomposed flesh or something similar caught his attention. The wall they followed disappeared twice, indicating open doors or hallways, but there were no lights. None of them stopped or fell, despite whatever littered the tiles underfoot. Scott was thankful he couldn’t see what filled the corridor, as he suspected it wasn’t pretty.

“Turn on the right coming up and one flight of steps down,” Amy whispered, the words floating back to him. He felt along the wall until it fell away. He made the turn, descending carefully until his foot touched a step.

There was something stretched out on it.

“What the hell,” Scott muttered.

“Something’s on the steps,” Amy said before he could say any more. “So be careful.”

“That’s a man,” Vick said.

“A dead man,” Buckle said, his voice hanging in place as if he’d stopped to inspect the shape. The notion didn’t set well with Scott. It was a fucking
void
in here, and any moment he fully expected something to clamp around his wrist or ankle and pull him down into oblivion.

“Leave it, Buckle,” Vick insisted.

“Just making sure,” Buckle said, his voice a whisper in the dark, heightening Scott’s growing stress.

“Shit.”

That was something Scott didn’t need to hear. “What?”

“I must’ve missed a turn or something,” Amy stated.

“Huh?”

“There was supposed to be a door down here. The dark is messing me up. And it’s been years since I’ve been here. Hold on.”

Hands groped Scott’s chest, and Amy passed him in the dark. The others shuffled in the featureless soup until she walked past.

“All right, keep up.”

They retraced their steps, the wall on the left now, moving through pitch blackness as cold and deep as some undiscovered arctic cave. Scott brought up the rear, pausing for a moment.

He’d heard something behind him.

“You guys hear that?”

He peered back the way he’d come, but he could see nothing. The dark was so utterly devoid of shape it was as if someone had gouged out his eyes.

Except sound.

It was back there, somewhere, in the dark. It seemed to stop when Scott did, advancing only when he did. But that couldn’t be right. Gimps made noise.

He heard it again. Scott’s senses became completely aware, everything coming online, trying to detect the exact location of the noise.

Ssssshumt
.

The soft, definitely
organic
sound was somewhere behind them and slinking forward.

“You guys hear that?” he repeated, wondering why the hell they hadn’t answered him.

But the others had marched ahead.

Jesus
, Scott thought, keeping his hand on the wall and shuffling forward. He stumbled up the steps, feeling the weight of whatever it was on the steps.

“Scott?” someone called out ahead. Amy’s voice.

Ssssshumt… Ssssshumt.

Panic rose up in Scott’s chest and, for a moment, he was certain whatever was following in his wake was going to grab him—grab him and haul him back
there
, where it would nail him to the ground and gut him with hooks or claws or something even worse. He plodded forward, sightless, keeping one hand against the wall and leaning against it for support. The noise seemed to be only ten paces away and getting closing. That same soft squishing sound, like something wet and dangling being dragged along the tiles, just tickling it, before a heavy weight came down upon it and another ponderous step was taken.

“Scott?” Amy called again, and he could hear Vick’s and Buckle’s grumblings in the void.

“Here! I’m here!” Scott called, not loudly, but certainly no longer whispering.

“Hurry,” Amy called. Why did she sound so far away?

Then he was falling.

In his haste to get back to the main floor, he’d forgotten about the open doors and had fallen right through one, landing on his side in a huff and expulsion of air.

“Scott!” Buckle cried.

Ssssshumt. Ssssshumt.
The sound was much closer than Buckle.

Scott scrambled to his feet and tightened his grip on his bat. If there was something out there, he’d crack open its skull before it got him. All at once, visions of terrible things—giant eyeballs with fanged mouths or worms the size of trains—flashed before his mind’s eye. He pushed them away and reached out in the total dark, wondering––hoping––he’d touch something familiar.

“Scott,” Buckle whispered nearby. “Where y’be, me son?”

“Here.” Scott stepped forward and bumped into something. He tried to grab it, but it landed with a crash on the floor, shattered pieces suddenly playing piano. He didn’t think a nuke could’ve made more noise.

Then a hand grabbed him.

“Gotcha,” Buckle said, his hand gripping Scott’s shoulder. “You okay? Breathing awfully hard.”