The Demented: Confliction (3 page)

“Abby!
This way.” Nate
shouted from inside the nearest window.

His voice, barely audible over the roar of the demented,
pulled her back. He had busted out the nearest
window and climbed inside. This was not
his apartment, but she knew his was straight across the hall.
  She followed him in through the window, leery
of the darkness. The sparsely furnished
apartment appeared empty. The place was
a mess, possibly the norm. Abby sniffed
at the air, unsure what she was going to determine from it, but figured she
would know if she smelled it. She
smelled garbage and maybe the stale scent of dust, but nothing unusual.

Nate waved for her to follow him and whisper-shouted, “Come
on.”

Abby trailed after him, tiptoeing through the clutter.
  They both quietly crept out of the main door
into the central hallway. They were just
crossing the hall when a noise caused them to pause and turn.
  Several paces away stood two men, staring at
them. They each wore blue jeans and
t-shirts, looking like a pair of all American youth.
  Both pair of people stood frozen, afraid that
any movement would incite an attack.

After several seconds of unblinking eyes staring at each
other Nate hesitantly said, “Deshawn…that you?
You…normal?”

Surprise crossed both men’s faces.

“Nate. Uh…yeah, we’re
cool.” He glanced back at the other man
briefly, back at Nate, and then whispered, “Where you goin?”

“Back to my place.
  Gunnin’ up.”

Both men perked up at “gun.”
They began walking toward Nate and Abby.
 “You have guns?”
  Deshawn whispered.

Abby was worried. She
didn’t know either of these guys, and had no idea if they had other
intentions. Nate knew at least one of
them, putting her in a difficult spot to say anything.
  She silently hoped Nate would stop them.

Instead he said, “Yeah, in my apartment.”
  He then pulled a key from his pocket and
unlocked the door, ushering them all inside.

Once inside Nate made a b-line for the bedroom, the two men
trailing like puppy dogs. Abby remained
in the living room, wanting to get a look outside.
  She cracked the blinds, peering through the
narrow gap. The street was like rush
hour in New York, all four lanes packed with cars.
  At the far end, nearly to the end of the
block, was an overturned beer truck.
Silver Coors Light cans were scattered across the pavement and onto the
sidewalk. She knew the world had gone
bad when beer was left lying on the street.

There were several people staggering amongst the cars.
  They were slow, awkward.
  Many were covered in blood and wounds…mortal
wounds. She could tell these were
different than the demented, and guessed that they were the dead that had
risen. Her mind flashed back to Brent
and the bathroom. He had been dead, she
knew it. Her thoughts turned to her
dad.
Would
he go to the city to try to get to mom?
Unlikely…he was rarely there for her in the good times.

She turned toward the bedroom when she heard the
clang
of metal on metal.
  They were going through the weapons.
  She could hear them whispering.

“Where do ya know her from?”

“…couple of my college classes.”

“You hook up?”

“No, she…”

“…hand me that one.”

“…amazing body, I’d…”

They went on, oblivious to the fact that she could hear most
of what they were saying.
Boys
, she thought to herself.
  She walked over to the main door that led to
the hall and placed her ear up to the door, listening.
  Today there was far less gunfire and screams
outside. That was probably a bad
thing. The hall was nearly silent.
  There were low growls and occasional grunts.
  They sounded distant, maybe from the floor
below.

“Abby, pick a gun.”
  Nate said from behind her.

She turned to see what he had.
  Before leaving for college she used to go out
hunting with her dad, so while not an expert, she was familiar with guns and
knew how to handle them. Nate held out a
pistol and what looked like an Uzi.
“I’ll take the pistol.”

“Mac-9 too much for you?”
  Nate said with a smirk.

Abby grabbed the pistol and said, “I can more than handle
whatever you have.”

They spent several minutes going over their weapons and
ammo. Deshawn had a pump shotgun and his
buddy, Markus, was holding a semi-auto rifle.
Ammo was limited, but they all had some.

“We have to get out of the city.”
  Abby said.

They all agreed with that, but did not agree on the best way
to get it done.

Deshawn pointed toward the window and said, “My wheels are
just down the way. Let’s book it and
roll out of here.”

“Have you been in the streets…or even seen them?
  We’d get jammed up and overran within a few
blocks.” Nate said.

“We pound through.” Deshawn
said.

Markus rapidly nodded his head.
  “Yeah man, we make it happen.”

“You don’t get it.
It’s hell out there. Cars,
trucks, fire, demented, zombies, and the list goes
on. No way, we’d be food.
  We’re in the middle of the f’n city man.”
  Nate said.

Abby jumped in. “The
river is only a few blocks away. I say
we get there and find a boat…stay off the streets.”

Nobody said anything for a while, letting it soak in.

Deshawn began rapidly nodding his head.
  “I like it.”

This got Markus and Nate nodding their heads as well.

Nate led the way, slowly cracking the door open just enough to
peer out into the hallway. Once he
determined it was clear he opened it the rest of the way and quietly shuffled
out in the hall. A quick glance each way
proved the hall to be empty. The others
padded out behind him, the whites of their eyes easily visible in the
semi-darkness.

“This way.”
  Nate whispered while moving along the hall.

As they passed some of the rooms they could hear angry
grunts from within the thin doors. Abby
could picture the rage filled demented inside, likely stumbling around, unable
to find the exit - a death trap for anyone that entered.
  The four of them moved as silently as
possible to avoid drawing unwanted attention.

At the end of the hall they came to the back stairs that
Nate had said led to the side street. They
stood at the top of the stairs, looking down into the darkness below and
thinking their plan sounded much better in the well-lit apartment.
  Weapons raised, Nate and Deshawn led the way
with Markus directly behind them, and Abby taking up the rear.
  She continuously glanced back, images of
demented silently sneaking up and pouncing on her from behind kept flashing
through her mind. Each time she looked
back the stairs were empty.

Halfway down the stairs they made a ‘U,’ dropping the rest
of the way to the bottom floor. Nate
eased his head out into the hallway, looking the length of the hall.
  He turned back to the group and whispered,
“They’re in the hall.”

“How many?”
  Deshawn asked.
  It came out louder than he meant.

The dementeds’ reaction was immediate.
 Angered growls echoed down the hallway.
  The sounds made the hairs on the back of
Abby’s neck stand up. They were close,
loud, and terrifying.

Deshawn stepped out into the hall with his shotgun pressed
tight to his shoulder.
Boom
.
  He racked the pump.
 
Boom
. Each shot was deafening
in the enclosed space. Bright flashes
lit the hall.

Everything sped up.
Nate dropped to a knee in the hall and began firing his mac-9
rapidly. Deshawn continued to fire,
racking the pump between shots. Markus
panicked and turned to run back up the stairs.

Abby put her hand out to stop him.
  “No, we have to get out.”

His eyes were white with fear.
  He knocked Abby’s hand out of the way,
pushing past.

Rather than waste time with him, Abby moved into the hall
behind Nate and Deshawn. The space
beyond them was filled with demented.
The front doors that led into the apartment building were busted out,
allowing a steady stream of infected to pour in.
  They were going to get overran.

“I’m out!” Deshawn
screamed. He reached in his pants
pockets for more shells.

With only Nate’s MAC-9 firing, the demented were surging
down the hall. There were dozens of
them, all with single minded intensity.
Those in the lead were falling to the gunfire, but were immediately
replaced by others, barely slowed by the mounds of dead.

“We have to get out of here!”
  Abby shouted.
She watched as Deshawn continued to jam shells into the breach of his
shotgun. His firepower would be
returning to the fight too late. She
raised her pistol and fired several rapid shots into the oncoming horde.
  She couldn’t tell where her shots landed, but
there were too many to miss. She glanced
over her shoulder and saw the glowing green exit sign with an arrow pointing
into a hall around the corner, out of sight.
“Exit behind us, let’s move!” She
shouted.

Rather than wait to see if anyone was going to listen, she
turned and made a break for it. The back
hall was narrow and dark, but clear of attackers.
  At the end, light spilled in through a glass
door that led to the street. She hit the
metal crash-bar at full sprint, sending the door flying open and slamming up
against the exterior wall with a loud
crack
.
 

She immediately regretted her rush to get outside.
  The street was mostly clear, but halfway down
the block were several infected staggering around a wrecked car.
  At the noise they all perked up.
  The nearest one, a tall man in a shredded
business suit, looked up to the sky and let out their signature huffing
noise. He remained in place, barking into
the sky.

The sound of pounding footsteps echoed out of the exit
hall. Abby looked back and saw Markus
leading Nate and Deshawn out. Markus
must have heard the call to retreat.
Behind them the first of the demented slammed up against the wall before
turning the corner in pursuit. The surge
overwhelmed the narrow side hall, filling it with a solid mass of reaching arms
and legs.

Abby held the door wide.
The three men raced through and out onto the sidewalk.
  Panicked, they looked left and right.
  Abby let go of the door.
  They saw the demented in the street rushing toward
them. Only thinking about getting away
they turned in the opposite direction.

“No!” Abby
shouted. “Water is this way.”
  She raised her pistol and started running
directly at the oncoming infected.

Startled, the three men stood still for a moment before
following in her wake.

Ahead of them, racing toward Abby, were two demented
followed by a staggering undead.
  The lead demented was a younger man dressed
in jogging shorts. Just behind him raced
a middle aged woman, dressed only in her underwear.
  Both of them were covered in
blood, however neither compared to the elderly man that
plodded along behind them. He had a
massive chunk of flesh missing from the side of his neck and shoulder.
  Blood and gore drenched his once blue dress
shirt.

Jogger’s eyes were filled with rage.
  He opened his mouth in an angry growl.

Abby slowed to a stop to steady herself.
  Pistol raised she fired a single shot.
  Her aim was perfect; the round slammed dead
center into Jogger’s forehead, dropping him to the pavement.
  She shifted her aim and fired at Underwear,
missing high-right. She let loosed a
couple rapid shots. One of them
connected, hitting Underwear in her shoulder, spinning her sideways.
  Slowed, but still on her feet, she continued
her charge. A final shot from Abby’s
pistol sent her toppling to the pavement, bare flesh skidding across the jagged
edges.

Only two remained; the slow moving undead and behind him was
Business Suit, still barking toward the sky, recruiting soldiers from hell.

Nate and his buddies were just catching up to Abby when she
took off sprinting. Behind them the
demented were flooding out of the rear exit of the apartment building.
  On top of that others were beginning to pour
out of buildings and side streets, drawn to the noise.

“To the water, go, go go.”
Abby shouted.

Rather than waste time and ammo she sprinted right past the
undead. Business Suit stood directly in
front of her, oblivious to her approach.
She knew he could be one of the fast demented, so just to be safe she
raised her pistol and fired two quick shots into his chest.
  He staggered back a couple steps and then
fell to his knees. An angry grimace
crossed his face. She pulled the trigger
again but nothing happened. A quick
check showed the slide was back. She had
run the pistol dry. Business Suit could
do nothing from his knees, so she dodged around him and continued to sprint
down the street.

While Abby raced ahead, the three men began leap
frogging. One of them would stop and
fire shots at the trailing demented and any entering from the sides, while the
others raced ahead. After several shots
the shooter would hop up and sprint ahead while another gave him cover
fire. They continued covering each
other, slowly working their way down the street.
  None of them realized for each demented they
spent the time to shoot, it was immediately replaced
by several more. The entire city heard
the gunshots and was closing in on them.

Abby reached the edge of the large plaza that led to the
Portland Convention Center. A car sat
empty in front of the large glass windows.
She glanced back to see the three men about a half block away, racing
her way. There retreat was slow because
they kept covering each other. Right
behind them was a massive horde of demented.
There were more than she could count; their arms and legs blending into
one churning mass. “Just run!”
  She shouted.
With that she turned and ran toward the convention center.
  They needed to get somewhere to regroup.

A quick glance inside the abandoned car confirmed that it
was empty. Just past it was a trail of
dried blood that led to a broken out section of glass.
  She followed the blood trail and peered in
through the hole. It was dark, but she
did not see any movement. She hit the
mag release on her pistol, letting the empty magazine clatter to the sidewalk.
  She pulled a fresh one from her pocket,
slammed it in, and worked the slide.

Nate saw where Abby disappeared into the convention
center. He was on his last magazine,
running out of energy, and very glad to see a place of possible reprieve.
  Ten yards from the building he turned around
to provide cover fire for Markus and Deshawn.
They were nearly to him and sprinted past.
  “Get inside!”
He shouted as they ran past. He
began firing rapidly into the oncoming horde.
They were steadily dropping to his barrage of gunfire.
  His weapon ran dry.
  He turned to make for the building, caught
his foot on a lip in the cement, and stumbled.

Abby watched the whole thing.
  She stood by the glass windows as Markus and Deshawn
ran inside. She was relieved when she
saw Nate turn to head her way. He went
down. She screamed for him to get
up. Raising her pistol, she side stepped
over to the opening, hoping to hold them off.

The demented were unbelievably fast.
  Nate tried to get back to his feet, but
several were on him. Their weight sent
him back to his knees. More piled on,
driving him to the cement.

Abby lowered her pistol, knowing there was nothing she could
do. She yelled out in anger and
frustration. Demented continued to swarm
where she had last seen Nate. Others
raced around the mass of bodies, heading straight for her.
  Unsure which way Markus and Deshawn went, she
absently aimed her pistol, fired off a couple quick shots, and then headed up
the stairs directly behind her.

The stairs curved slightly as they rose to the second
story. She reached the large loft that
overlooked the entrance area and long windowed atrium that faced the
plaza. At the far end of the atrium she
saw Markus and Deshawn looking back her way.
One of them shouted something, but she couldn’t make out the words.
  Below, demented began streaming in through
the broken out glass. Markus raised his
rifle and began firing into them. Deshawn
grabbed at his arms, trying to get him to stop shooting, but the damage was
already done.

Abby watched over the pony wall in horror as dozens of
demented turned and raced toward the two men, drawn to the gunfire.
  She tried to think of a way to help them, but
knew anything she did would only draw them to her.
  She was about to turn away when she saw a man
carrying an assault rifle run out from under the loft.
  He hesitated momentarily, looking in both
directions. He then raced over to the
stairs that dropped down to the long atrium.
He raised his rifle and began firing into the demented that chased
Markus and Deshawn.

She continued to watch as the man dropped one demented after
another. The demented screamed out in
rage. All along the atrium they turned
at his gunfire and began sprinting towards him.
He seemed at ease, almost calm as he dealt death upon the demented.
  His weapon ran dry.
  Abby’s heart pounded in her chest, thinking
he was going to get overrun for sure. In
a single fluid motion, the man dropped the magazine out of his weapon, pulled a
fresh one from a chest pouch, slammed it into his mag well, and charged his
rifle. Barely skipping a beat he began
firing into the demented that were just below him at the base of the stairs.

Abby glanced out the front windows and was terrified to see
a massive horde of undead staggering toward the entrance.
  Several of them were shuffling through the
broken out glass. Others piled up
against the glass, smearing blood and grime everywhere.
  Abby raised her pistol, wanting desperately
to help the man out. He must have sensed
the undead behind him, because he suddenly stopped firing, turned, and ran back
under the loft out of sight.

Abby did not know who the man was, but he just might have
bought Markus and Deshawn enough time to hide somewhere.