The End: A Post Apocalyptic Thriller (2 page)

If anyone was going to make it out of this alive and live to tell the tale, she wanted more than anything for it to be her. And on the plus side, being stranded in a locked-up shelter, at least she was with a halfway decent-looking man. She thought of Kent and that scruffy, unkempt beard, his
too cool for school
aviators and attitude. So what if he was probably close to thirty and still dressed like a teenager. On him, it worked.

He may not actually be a real rock star like he said he was, but he sure does play the part,
Cynthia thought. And besides, she had been a girl long enough to tell when a man was hitting on you, even just a little.

Above them in the backyard as they prepped for yet another night tucked away in the underground bunker, things weren’t getting any better. For the last two days, the number of living dead continued to increase. The constant moaning became louder and louder with each new member that joined the ranks, which brought others from even farther away.

2

“Can you guys make it around to the back? That’s the only place safe enough to let you in,” a man hollered from a building.

“How do we get there?” George craned his head out the window, staring up at maybe his last hope of salvation.

“The alley to the right—beside the building—it leads to the back. You’re going to have to ditch the truck. It won’t make it through there. I have most of the alley blocked off. You’re gonna have to run like hell!”

The older gentleman flung the driver’s side door open and leaped out of the truck, pulling a young boy across the passenger seat and along the driver’s side, leading them both out of the vehicle’s safety, and into the parking lot surrounded by the madness of an approaching blood-hungry mob. Turning to the rear of the cab in a spastic frenzy, the old man opened the back door and grabbed a bag from the seat. When he turned around, the man that had been yelling from the second-floor window only moments before had vanished. Without hesitation, he bounded forward—snatching the boy along with him.

There was no other choice than to chance this escape. The truck was practically out of gas, and George was getting worn down. Besides, this was the only radio station broadcasting he had been able to find in the last forty-eight hours, which meant that someone was alive, which meant that it was a safe place to be. George knew exactly where the WKBM radio station was located, because his nephew had interned with the station just this last summer. Unfortunately, this area seemed everything but safe, which was the last thing the old man had hoped to find as they had pulled up to the building.

As they had idled across the street a block away, he could tell right then that things were about to get ugly. The crazed mob was everywhere. The ones that didn’t take immediate notice of the truck still lingered in the streets and at the entrance of the radio station, just banging away at the door, or what was left of it. George imagined it was boarded up pretty good. But how long would that last?

Even with a good dozen or so of the irrational maniacs completely oblivious to their new visitors, George still had his hands full. “Run, Billy! Run.”

The little boy took off, disappearing around the side of the building and into the alley.

They had made their way across the parking lot and about fifty feet away from the side of the building leading into the ally. Those blood-covered cannibal freaks were right behind them. “There’s just too many of them!”

At this point, it’s not like there were any other options. At least fifteen crazies had made their way past the truck and were headed right for him. Him
and
Billy.

Time seemed to stop. For the first time in two days, his mind finally wrapped around the situation. His attackers were dead. All dead. From the time he was chased from that gas station and found Billy in the park all alone, he had thought something had caused the people to go insane. Perhaps by a disease or something terrorists put in the water supply. But no, these people, these things, were dead and yet continued to function.

The smell of scorching flesh in the heat of day created a potent odor. It was like leftover dead fish on the porch in summertime. Just gut wrenching. With more than a dozen of them closing in, he saw the closest one was a young male. He had to have been in his mid-twenties and was definitely anything but alive.

The young man walked right at George, arms raised, and a mouth wide open, dripping fresh blood. There was dried blood too, over its cheeks and neck. Some had run down its white shirt and formed a stain shaped like Lake Michigan. It was too hard to tell if the blood was from someone else or if it was the creature’s. A huge chunk of its neck was completely torn open, but the blood in that area was all clotted up on the torn, puffy skin. One eye socket was caved in where an eye had once been. The ghoul had scratches going from the crushed socket up the side of its face to its forehead that looked like they had been made by a human hand. Large bits of flesh were missing, and parts of the skull showed beneath the deep cuts in its scalp.

George then noticed another one behind it, traveling with a slight limp. Part of the knee bone was visible. The tendons from the knee down to the ankle were showing. A large trail of blood followed behind on the pavement as it shuffled toward him.

It wasn’t until one of the other zombies behind the small horde closing in on George let out a guttural moan that he realized he had been standing there for a moment totally dazed. He also hadn’t noticed how much closer the mob had gotten and that their pace had increased as they neared him and the boy.

Snapping out of it, he finally realized that there were more walking in his direction from all over the parking lot, all with that same wide stare of sheer madness. The expressions marring their faces said
you have something I want and I’m coming to get it
. The ones that had been banging on the front of the building were no longer there. Instead, they had joined the ranks of those already in pursuit of the fresh meat. The moaning started to get out of control as each slowly joined in, one by one. The truck was blotted out by bodies closing in on George and the boy.

“Mr.! Hey, Mr.!” The voice came from directly overhead. “What are you doing? Get to the back! Get to the back of the alley!”

George shook himself back in control, turned, and made off toward the alley.

Jumping over a few small boxes and bumping into a trash can or two along the way didn’t seem to slow him down at all. He could see the end of the alley just a few yards ahead.

Billy had managed to make his way back there, and stood at the end staring up at a huge gate, chain, and padlock that blocked them or anyone else from going any farther.

The fence had to have been at least eight or nine feet tall. The only thing it was missing was barbed wire at the top to give it that prison
look
. Even without the wire, there was no way they were going to make it over that.

In a state of total defeat, the harsh reality that
this was it
shown on their faces.
This was how it was going to end
, finally set in for George. Leaning as tightly against the fence as they could, George took Billy into his arms and squeezed him so hard he felt it cut off circulation.

The rotting things were making their way across the parking lot directly on their path. A path that led to a literal dead end.

“I’m glad I met you, Billy.” Dropping to his knees against the fence as the alley began to fill with the undead, George closed his eyes, and almost began to faint. The smell of rot and decay intensified. “Close your eyes, Billy. Just close your eyes.” Shuffling feet and wailing moans grew closer. The alley’s tight walls echoed the dread as the seconds passed.

Wincing with one eye barely open, Billy wrapped tightly in the old man’s embrace, he watched the creatures steadily closing in on them. The zombies shambled their way through the alley, some falling over boxes and crates, while others climbed over the fallen, taking the lead.

One zombie tripped over an empty broken pallet that leaned against the alley wall and fell head first toward the ground. Its head popped like a melon, blood spraying onto the ground around its head. It made no attempt to break its own fall.

Another zombie immediately climbed over the fallen creature, stepping on its neck, unconcerned for anything other than advancing on the two helpless souls trapped in their path. Then, blood shot from its mouth onto the ground, along with chunks of something red. A sea of the undead would soon fall upon them like a tidal wave and compressed them into the brick wall cage.

Something metallic rattled behind him. He let out a loud scream with his eyes still closed as a hand grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him in toward it. Images of open mouths filled with festering teeth swarmed into George’s head.

“Get in! Get in!” a tall man with long, dark hair shouted at them. He had unlocked the gate and held it open.

Billy darted through the opening and to an open door leading into the building.

Shock had George’s feet cemented to the pavement. His body no longer responded to the command of his will.

The stranger grabbed George by the shirt and pulled him past the gate, snaked the chain through the fence, and then secured the lock. “Get in there!” He pushed George toward the open door.

George stumbled toward the open door and breached the opening. He fell to his knees and then crashed face down toward the tile floor, his bare hands cushioned the impact at the last second.

The door closed behind him, and vomit slowly made its way up his throat and into his mouth. Choking the emesis down, George feebly rose and looked around the room.

“Dude, your dumb ass almost got us killed. What were you thinking?” the stranger said.

The moaning grew louder, or was it all just in George’s head? He struggled with the idea that what he had witnessed could easily have been something his subconscious created. They had been on the run for days without much rest. The amount of calories burned far exceeded the paltry amount of food they had scavenged along the way.

“Hey, you deaf? Acting like one of those things isn’t going to make them ignore you. You got to stay ahead of them. If—”

“I’m sorry,” George said in a soft, distant voice. He bit his lip and turned his gaze to the floor. “My son…” The bitter words hung in the air. For the first time in two days, he dropped the inner walls blocking his emotions. His incapacitation wasn’t due to the lack of rest or food, not even the dead coming back to life. It was the stress of not knowing where his only child was in this hellish disaster. “We came here because we thought it would be safe since the—”

Bang! Bang! Bang!

The door started to rattle, and the tall man leaped over to it and shoved his shoulder against it.

The quick action of the man slapped George back into the moment. Basic survival instinct kicked in and he joined his newly unacquainted friend, pressing against the door.

Billy had his hands spread across his chest. His gaze darted from side to side. “What do I do?” Billy asked.

The stranger replied, “Grab that two-by-four over on the wall! Hurry!”

George watched the boy act without hesitation. Billy certainly functioned better under fire than he did. Despite the fact that George had all of his weight against the door, both he and the stranger bounced a bit off of it as the mob pounded to get in.

Billy pointed the board toward the stranger, who snatched it from his hand.

“Watch out,” the stranger said.

There were metal brackets to each side of the doorway. George kept his hands tightly against the door as he shifted his body to allow the stranger to put the barricade in place. It slid in smoothly, and the two were able to step away from the door.

At first, the two only exchanged heavy breathing, and then the stranger broke the silence, “Yeah, the makeshift lock was built before I started working here and that’s been ten years now. People used to come around at night. Mostly trying to get free shit—records and stuff. Sometimes girls smitten by the sexy voice of a DJ would come by,” his gaze shifted over to Billy, “and they would try to
give
him something. Most of them were underage, so the rule was to leave the barricade in place until the morning shift arrived. But you don’t care about any of that. And it really doesn’t make a fucking bit of difference anyway… not anymore.” He closed his eyes and leaned his head back. Shaking it off, he looked back at George, and said, “I’m Seth, but most people know me as the Spider from
The Midnight Madness Show
.”

“Hey, I know that show,” Billy said. “My older sister listens to you. She likes all of that scary music. My dad says
crap in a can
sounds better. Hah, but I don’t know. I kind of like it.”

“Well, that’s cool, kid. Hey, you gotta name?” Seth asked.

“His name is Billy, and I’m George. George Wellington. Thanks for saving us. We would have been goners if it wasn’t for you.”

“Seems silly under the circumstances to say
nice to meet you
. But I’m glad I was able to get you two in here. I’d feel just awful if I would have watched those things get you,” Seth said.