The Demented Z (Book 2): Desolation (Book 2) (19 page)

The stench of decay smacked him in the face, washing over
him like filthy pond water. It clung to
him like a blanket, his skin immediately feeling clammy.
  With all the death he had been around over
the last few weeks he would have though his nose would be used to it, but that
was definitely not the case. His stomach
rolled, gag reflex in full force.

The front of the store had a long row of checkout counters
with lone registers sitting at each of them.  
Beyond these were wide aisles separated by tall shelves.
  The usually neat and tidy shelves were nearly
empty and what was left was a disaster.  
Torn open boxes lay scattered about, their contents spilled across the
shelves and down onto the floor. It
looked like a tornado came inside the building, taking half of the items with
it and leaving the rest strewn all about.

Several loud moans from deeper in the store let Tom know he
was not alone. Tom ran between a set of
checkout counters and peered down one of the dark aisles, trying to determine
the source of the noises. In the center
of the aisle sat a low metal cage that had a bunch balloons tied to it.
  They were once helium filled and floated joyfully
above the wire rack, but now lay limply on the floor, shriveled and
wrinkly. It was beyond these, in the
deep shadows, that Tom saw movement.  
Hoping to avoid any confrontation, Tom started to back out of the aisle
toward the registers.

With the ferocity of a bomb going off, the front doors exploded
inward, demented flooding inside. Like a
raging river, they squeezed through the narrow opening and then fanned out in a
huge mass of bared teeth and reaching hands.  
Tom began to backpedal, watching in horror as they continued to pour
into the building. The noise level
reached a deafening roar.

Spinning back around, Tom raced past the deflated balloons.
  The loud shrieks spurred him faster than he
thought he could run. There was movement
in the shadows ahead. Tom’s eyes were
beginning to adjust to the darkness and he could make out vague forms shuffling
his way. They had the slow movements of
the undead.    Their groans were drowned
out by the ear piercing rumble of the demented that continued to stream into
the store.

  The demented were in
a single minded rage. They swarmed over
and around the checkout counters like army ants, almost moving as one.
  Whether they were driven by hunger, hatred,
or some unknown desire, it was powerful and motivating.
  Once they locked onto living prey they were relentless,
an all-consuming drive taking over.

Tom continued to sprint further back into the store, getting
ever closer to the undead that were drawn his way.
  There were four of them.
  All of them were covered in dried blood,
filth, and probably things far worse.  
Their clothes barely clung to their bodies, hanging limply, now several
sizes too large for their emaciated bodies.  
Their cheeks were sunken and eyes sockets dark and hidden.
  Lack of food was taking a toll on their
bodies. Nearing Tom, they bared their
teeth in hungry growls and reached out for him, clawing awkwardly at the air.

Using speed to his advantage, Tom dodged to the far side of
the aisle, avoiding all but one of the undead.  
Directly in front of him staggered a tall man, nearly skeletal in
appearance. His long arms reached out
for Tom. His lifeless gray eyes stared
at Tom without emotion. Tom had one shot
left in his revolver, but really wanted to save it if at all possible.
  Lacking time to grab a makeshift weapon, Tom
charged directly at Tall Man, turning his shoulder and using his forearm to
slam into his body.

Tall Man’s arms grasped at Tom, trying to draw him in close.
  His frail body was surprisingly strong,
however Tom’s momentum was too much for the lanky undead.
  Tom’s forearm and shoulder slammed into Tall
Man’s midsection, sending him toppling over.  
His long fingers grasped at Tom clothes, ripping one of his shirt
sleeves. Tom nearly lost his balance,
spun sideways, slamming hard into the metal shelving.
  Items crashed to the floor around him.
  The fallen Tall Man reached for Tom’s legs
while goods rained down on top of him.

Tom was able to get a glance back toward the front of the
store and he was terrified by what he saw.  
Demented were racing down the aisle directly toward him.
  Several had already reached the metal balloon
rack and would be on top of him in a matter of seconds.

Stumbling over the fallen items and yanking his boots away
from Tall Man, Tom spun and began his sprint down the aisle.
  The floor was caked with dried blood.
  Tom danced his way between shredded boxes and
piled up debris. He was unsure where he
was headed, but knew this was his only option.

The five of them had been hunkered down in the SUV for
nearly an hour. None of them had said a
word for quite some time, all of them just worriedly looking out the
windows. Zeus was in the back,
whimpering and pacing in anxious circles around the small space.

Philip suddenly broke the silence, “If nobody’s going to say
it, I will, he’s gone.”

Hank looked briefly at Kelly and Sam, and then back to
Philip. “We don’t know that.
  He may just be having a difficult time
getting through the streets.”   The heavy
worry in the pit of Hank’s stomach told him otherwise, but he knew Tom wouldn’t
give up if it were him. He also knew
Kelly would be unable to bear the news.  
He looked down at Sam sitting in her lap.
  His usual smile was gone, replaced by tears
and worry. He had said almost nothing
since they got him to the car, instead just sitting in his mom’s lap, either
staring out the window or fidgeting with his pants.

“If Lincoln’s men don’t find us in this
stupid parking lot the infected will.  
We can’t just sit here.”   Philip shouted.

Hank started to say something, but Kelly interrupted
him. Her eyes were shiny with welled up
tears. In a trembling voice she said,
“He’s right.”

“What?   He
would...”   Hank started.

Kelly held up a hand and said, “Just hear me out.
  Philip’s right that we can’t just sit here,
but I’m not leaving Tom. We need to do
something.”

“We need to leave...go somewhere safe.”
  Philip said.

“Safe!   Are you
kidding me?”   Hank shouted.
  “Safe is like a union worker at five...long
gone.”

“You know what I mean.”

From the back Jenny quietly said, “What if we make a quick
drive through the streets between here and the school?
  Take a look around...see
what we can see.”

They all sat in silence for a few moments, letting the idea
sink in and stew for a bit. Hank was the
first to break the quiet. “Sounds like a
good idea to me.”

“Drive back toward the school...what if we run into Lincoln’s
men?   They are surely out looking for
us.”   Philip interjected.

Hank wanted to start yelling at Philip.
  The little twerp did nothing but
complain and argue.  
His voice had become a cheese grater on Hank’s ears, like salting
exposed nerves. He took a deep calming
breath and then said, “We’re a group, but I will not leave Tom behind, so I am
going no matter what. We can split up if
we have to. Who’s with me?”

“I am.”   Kelly said immediately.

Jenny spoke up as well, “I’m with you guys.”

Hank looked over his shoulder at Philip.
  “What do you say?”

Red anger spread across Philip’s face.
  With the girls joining Hank he had little
choice but to stick with the group. Fear
of being on his own overrode everything else.
  “I will stick with you guys for now.”
  He said as defiantly as he could.

“Well that’s settled.”  
Hank said while cranking the key.  
The large V8 engine rumbled to life.

******

Tom reached the end of the aisle and looked in each
direction, praying there was somewhere to go.  
A set of swinging double doors broke up the flat white wall.
  They were marked with red “Employees Only”
signs, but Tom guessed nobody would care.  
He darted toward the doors, glancing down the aisles as he went.
  Both of the aisles he passed on the way were
filled with screaming demented, racing his way.

He hit the doors hard, flinging them wide open.
  They slammed into the wall with a
bang
that was barely heard over the
deafening rumble of the demented. The
hallway beyond was nearly pitch black, only lit by the dim light that spilled
in from the door he just ran through.  
Tom continued sprinting down the hall into the darkness.
  He held one hand out in front of him to
diminish the impact if he hit something, while keeping his other hand touching
the wall to his side. The wall was
surprisingly comforting in the inky blackness.

Partway along the hall the reassuring wall disappeared from
Tom’s touch. He came to a quick stop and
reached back until he felt the wall once again.  
With a bit of blind inspection he found that there was a corner and the
hall either split or he had entered a large open space.

Suddenly the swinging doors banged loudly and the hall was
filled with the screams and shrieks of the oncoming demented.
  With so many the dark would not slow them a
bit. They would act like water flooding
through a maze, filling every nook and cranny.  
They trampled their own in their haste to get at anything living.
  The viciousness and unrelenting hatred was
astounding.

Needing to just keep moving, Tom made the corner, following
the wall as it cut to the right. He took
several quick steps and then his feet caught something near the floor.
  The impact was brutal and quick.
  His face slammed hard against the stair steps
before his mind realized what had happened.  
Pain shot through his skull and down his spine.
  White sparkles like night stars twinkled in
and out of his vision, dancing through the darkness.
  Tom’s head spun,
dizziness and nausea nearly taking over.  
He used every bit of concentration to keep from passing out.

The pounding footsteps chased after him like the churning of
a train down the tracks.

Tom struggled back to his feet, nearly fainting in the
process. Warm, wet blood streamed from a
wound in his forehead, running down his temple and dripping off of his
chin. Using his hand on the wall to
steady himself, Tom began moving up the stairs, slowly at first, trying to
regain control. Fighting through the
pain he kept his eyes closed, rather than straining into the impenetrable
darkness. Spurred on by the sounds of
the demented Tom picked up the pace, taking a couple steps at a time, each
footfall sending shocking pain from his head down through the rest of his body.

Panic welled up inside Tom as the first wave of demented
rushed into the darkness behind him. The
first wave overshot the stairwell opening, their animal sounds, like those of
feral dogs, echoed up the stairs after him.  
Tom continued to race up the steps, taking them as quick as he
could. The sense of nausea was nearly
overwhelming. Just as he reached the top
of the stairs he heard demented at the base of the steps behind him.
  The squeak of sneakers followed by wet animal
like growls alerted Tom that some had made the corner and would be flowing up
the stairs after him.

Tom continued to use his hand on the wall to feel his way
along the hallway. It only took a few
steps to feel the cool steel of a door jamb.  
He reached down, searched for the door knob, and once he found it,
fumbled a bit and then flung the door open.  
Moonlight spilled in through a single window centered along the far
wall. The meager light might have been
one of the most beautiful sights Tom had seen in quite some time.
  After being surrounded by the heavy weight of
pitch black it was like hope, confidence, and relief thrown into a blender and
poured over the top of him.

He quickly shut the door and engaged the small doorknob
lock. It wouldn’t hold for long under a
full assault, but Tom didn’t plan on sticking around for that.

Taking a glance around the room, he found that he was in a
small office. In front of the window sat
a man flopped over on top of a dark wood desk.  
He was lying face down in a pool of his own blood.
  There was a small black hole in the side of
his head and splattered blood and gore on the opposite wall.

Footfalls sounded from back in the hall.
  They were quick and rushed past the door.

Tom raced around the side of the desk, looking down at the
floor. He found exactly was he was
looking for. Hunching down he grabbed
the pistol and checked it out. It was a
.40 caliber Smith and Wesson that looked like it had never been fired.
  Probably the guy’s trophy gun,
only purchased to tell his buddies he had a gun.
  Tom checked the chamber and found a loaded
round. He dropped out the magazine and
tested its weight. Happy to find it
nearly full he slammed the magazine back into the well and stood.

Animal like scratching and wet growls emanated from out in
the hall. They were growing in volume
and it was clear the hall was beginning to fill with demented.
  It was only a matter of time before their
sheer mass caused the door to implode, spilling death into the small room.
  Tom did not plan on hanging around to witness
that happen.

Rolling the dead guy and his chair out of the way, Tom
stepped over to the window and took a look out into the night.
  The moonlight cast a gray glow cross the
narrow alleyway, causing everything to take on a dreary low contrast.
  Directly across from him
stood a two story brick apartment building.
  Sets of dark empty windows stared back at him
like the dark eyes of a giant robot. At
the base of the building sat a dumpster surround by cardboard boxes and a mound
of black trash bags. Tom eased the window
open. Cool night air washed over him.
  After breathing in the stench of death for so
long he could have just stood their sucking in as much clean air as possible.

The door to the hall began to creak and groan under the
weight of the demented outside.

This was enough to get Tom moving.
  He estimated the distance to the ground to be
around fifteen feet, not too far but enough to break an ankle if he wasn’t
careful. These days a broken ankle was a
death sentence.    He stuffed the pistol
in the back of his pants and slipped out the window feet first.
  Using the windowsill he hung down as far as
possible before letting go. The landing
jarred his body, sending painful shockwaves through his body, reminding him how
badly his head and arm hurt.

A quick glance down was a terrifying sight.
  His entire arm was covered in blood, enough
blood that it continually dripped from his fingers to the pavement below.
   In the dim moonlight the growing puddle was
as black as used car oil.

Tom hunched down in the alley and listened to the creepy
noises that surrounded him. The night
was filled with howls, shrieks, and blood curdling screams.
  It was like the infected had been sitting
dormant and the earlier gunfire had woke them, turning
the city into a playground only found in nightmares.
  He could also hear car engines, at least two
of them in the distance. Unsure who they
were Tom decided he would need to stick with the plan...or what was left of the
plan.

After thinking back through all the twists and turns he had
taken since the school, Tom decided he knew which direction the parking lot
lay. He stood and moved down the alley
toward the dumpster.

There was a loud crack of splintering wood from the window
above. The sound was immediately
followed by angry howls.

Tom glanced over his shoulder at the window above.
  He caught his foot on a trash bag that had
fallen from the heap and nearly went down.  
Regaining his balance, he focused on the pavement in front of him and
worked his way through the scattered debris to the end of the alley.

Tom was hugging the brick building as he eased up to the
corner. The sound of shattering glass
caused him to stop. He began to turn
around.   There was the sound of glass
clattering to the floor followed by a dull
thud
.

Thud...thud...thud...

  He turned back to see
bodies falling out of the window and landing on one another in a pile.
  Some remained motionless on the pavement;
others flopped about awkwardly, while some began to regain their feet,
oblivious to the fall. They continued to
spill out of the window like logs over a waterfall.
  One of them saw Tom standing frozen at the
end of the alley. He raised his head to
the sky and let out a loud bark. He
continued barking loudly into the night sky, calling to all within ear shot.

Tom turned and raced around the corner out of the dark
alley. The street beyond was deserted
except for a handful of wrecked and abandoned cars.
  He wondered if any of them were still
functional. A set of keys and a running
car might save his life, however on the other hand a dead car or no keys would
be a death sentence.

Directly in front of Tom, blocking the sidewalk, sat a 1980s
blue truck that had crashed into a furniture shop’s storefront.
  Broken bricks lay scattered on its hood and
the surrounding cement. The Chevy’s
previous owner had decked it out with oversized tires, a lift, and chrome
everywhere. The passenger side door hung
wide open, with it enticing interior in full view.

Growls sounded from behind Tom.
  Demented answered them from somewhere in
front of Tom.

In desperate need of a vehicle, Tom sprinted directly for
the gaping door, praying that there would be keys inside.
  As he reached the truck he could see that
there were no keys in the ignition. Tom
climbed up into the truck, searching the dashboard and seat.

More angry growls sounded from behind Tom, loud...close.

Nearly at full panic Tom searched the floorboards, lit only
by moonlight made it difficult. He used
his hand to quickly feel all around the black rubber floor mats.
 
They
have to be here. The demented are too
dumb to take keys with them.
  Tom’s
gut clenched, stress nearly overtaking him.  
He stopped searching when he heard footsteps on the sidewalk behind him.

Flipping over onto his back, Tom looked out the passenger
door. Centered between his feet was the
hideous face of an infected with dried blood caking his neck and once white
t-shirt. Several more demented could be
seen sprinting in his wake. The closest
one was just a few paces from the truck, his teeth bared in a wicked grin.