Death Row Apocalypse (29 page)

Henry was shouting something at me. I had completely forgotten that he still clung to my back. I had been so transfixed with the horde pouring into the washroom that I had forgotten his presence and hadn’t even noticed him kicking at my knees with his heals. His annoying kicks ceased as I apologized. “Sorry” is all I said, and I closed the door behind me.

Into the almost-pitch-black corridor I plunged once again. I could see the familiar faint light at the corridor’s end appear and disappear as the others ahead of us obscured what little of the day’s light remained. The noise from the zombies gradually reduced as we made progress down the corridor, not because of the distance but probably because they were unable to growl and howl while being crushed by their fellow zombies. I heard banging coming from the distant washroom door as the corpses struck it. I turned to look and check for pursuers when I noticed that there was near silence now. The only noise coming from that direction now was a low moaning. It was in that quasi-silence that we all stopped and turned, straining our eyes in the endless dark, where even shadows failed to fall. We had until then been so used to the almost-constant howling from the zombies that the shock of the silence was almost deafening.

Little had I known at the time, and I’m fairly certain that I’d never for even the slightest moment have actually guessed what was unfolding in the washroom as we made our escape. From the rooftop the zombie horde scrambled to enter the room through the skylight, leaping and diving into the diminishing cavity. The bodies that made up the growing mound all squirmed and clawed their way forward, desperate to get in on the kill and to taste the fresh meat of living man. An animalistic urge pushed them onwards as they tore apart anything that lay between them and their food. The strong odor of our small group drove these creatures insane with a mindless lust for blood. After so many struggling corpses had forced their way into every corner of the washroom, the now-crammed space and sheer weight of the masses squished the lower level zombies to pulp, literally liquidizing them. Skulls popped like ripe grapes squeezed between finger and thumb, pulverizing brains to the consistency of mash potato. Rib cages collapsed when the bone could not take another ounce of pressure. Hearts, lungs, and every other organ were pressed flat, so that entire corpses ended up no thicker than a human hand. Thick, almost-black blood spurt from each undead corpse like fat ticks being popped with tweezers.

As the zombies liquidized themselves, the upper surface sank further into the room, allowing yet more zombies to gain entrance. These zombies then scraped and clawed their way in, squeezing themselves between the ceiling and the writhing mass. As more and more entered the mix, so the cycle continued. The ocean of thick, coagulating blood rose and seeped between the crushed body parts ever upward, immersing layer upon layer of zombies until eventually the mixture of blood, stomach fluids, and liquefied remains became visible at the surface level with the skylight. Eventually the room filled to the point where no amount of squeezing would allow even one more monster into the sea of writhing zombie parts. The remaining horde gradually ceased their fruitless attempts to enter the washroom below. Instead, they milled around the broken skylight, as if waiting for an entrance to open. With apparently nothing to do, each and every zombie gradually stopped moving around and eventually became motionless. Save one, Eddie turned and started walking toward the far end of the roof top.

Like lemmings, the horde had pushed themselves to their doom. Perhaps there had been a pack mentality or some signaling mechanism that they used when hunting down their prey. In any case, they had for the most part unwittingly pushed themselves into a confined area, effectively neutralizing themselves.

Had I know what had happened, it would have been fascinating to watch firsthand, but for only a short while. This shit was not over by a long shot. The washroom could not have held even half the number that were potentially within the prison walls. There had to be well over a thousand zombies remaining. With each and every one of them wanting to get up close and personal with us, our chances were still very much on the slim side.

Buffy had raced ahead to a point where I could no longer see her. Lucy had given up on her pursuit and instead dropped back to wait for Henry, Joe, Violet, and myself to catch up. Sensing that we were for the time being out of immediate danger, we slowed our pace and walked toward the far end of the corridor and hopefully toward our final escape.

It was certainly not more than about twenty minutes ago, or possibly less, that I had raced down here and literally ran into the four zombies—one that had looked like the younger brother of King Kong, who I had named Bubba. The
clang!
from what sounded like a steel door somewhere ahead of our position broke the silence of our journey down the dark, and until then, quiet corridor with a start. Picking up a little speed, we closed the distance to the barred door in no time. In just as much time, we realized that we were now locked within the prison, without escape. Buffy stood on the other side, jingling a set of keys in her hand.

“Open the door, Sandra!” Lucy demanded as she walked up to the bars. She shook the door, but it barely rattled.

Putting Henry down, I joined Lucy’s side. “Hey, Sandra. Why don’t you open the door?” I said calmly. “Then we can all get the hell out of here. What do you say, huh?”

“No fucking way, Blaine, you sick fucker,” she spat. “If I’d known who you were back on the roof, I’d have sliced your throat then and there.”

I looked to the others and saw the fear in their eyes and decided immediately that perhaps Sandra was right: these other people were better than me. After all I had done, the lives that I had taken, the families that would no longer see their kin, maybe my rightful place was here in prison.

“Sandra, okay, okay,” I soothed. “Let these folk go free then. I’ll back off and stay here. You have my word. Do we have a deal?”

Comments of “No” and “He’s okay” and “He saved our butts” came from the small group, which knocked me back harder than being hit by a ten-ton truck. I started to back away down the corridor from where we came.

“Well, do we have a deal?” I said louder.

Lucy started to cry, “No, Blaine. You can’t do this to me!”

“It’s okay, Lucy. You all deserve to live. Sandra, let them go . . . Please.”

Lucy’s tears began to flow uncontrollably. She turned away from the steel gate and started to follow me but was quickly held back by Joe.

“Thanks, Joe,” I said. “You look after them for me please.” Then to Sandra I said, “C’mon. We don’t have all day! Let them go.”

“Not a chance in hell, you piece of shit,” she shouted in anger. “These people can rot in here with you as far as I care!”

In anger, Sandra had stepped one step closer to the barred door than she should have. She was now within arm’s reach of the gate. Well, that’s if I were standing at the gate itself, that is, but right now I was some ten yards distant and had no idea whether I would be fast enough to cross the distance and grab her before she backed off.

There wasn’t a moment to spare. Spurring my muscles on and instructing them to move like they had never moved before, I sprang, and like statues, the group continued to stare at the spot where I stood only a moment ago. I’d crossed half the distance when several things happened simultaneously. Firstly, Sandra had indeed begun to move. Like I mentioned before, she had excellent reflexes and a sense of survival probably only second to my own. It was now a game of chance as to whether I would be defeated by her reflexes. The second thing that happened was a thought—or should I say a realization. Imagine, if you will, that a body moving extremely fast over a short distance will of course need to stop, and in my case I would have to literally stop on a dime. The painful truth is that I had no idea if I could stop late enough and still grab Sandra, but early enough to avoid breaking every bone in my body against the barred gate.

I’d covered the short distance to the gate and braked at the last moment. My right arm was already flung forwards, passing in between the heavy steel bars. I had originally aimed for her shoulder, but she was very quick and so instead of grabbing her tunic I’d locked on to her hair. My fingers dug deep into hair as my torso slammed into the unforgiving steel bars, while my head literally bounced off them. The instinct for survival is a strong one. Before passing out from concussion, I reeled back, pulling with all my might on Sandra’s hair. She had barely enough time to scream before her head struck the steel bars and was forced through the narrow gap, causing her ears to be ripped off and her skull to partially crack.

As Sandra crashed to her knees on the floor, the keys were flung through and had landed safely on our side of the locked gate. Lucy ran to recover them and held them close to her chest.

Barely conscious, I felt hands move me to the side of the corridor and someone stroke my hair. I figured either Lucy or Violet. It would have been a little weird had it been Henry or Joe. I passed out.

Chapter - 20

- Heads or Tails -

I woke to screaming, it was high pitched and very feminine, I was damn glad it wasn’t coming from me. My vision quickly returned, and I saw the mess that was now Sandra. She was standing again, with her head on one side of the bars and her body on the other side as she screamed in pain while attempting to pull her head back through the gap in the bars. Joe and Violet were trying to help her push her head through but to no avail, while Lucy kept shushing her and pleading with her to keep quiet.

“Fuck off, you little bitch,” Sandra yelled. “Get your fucking hands off me,” she then shouted at Joe.

“Damn it! She’s going to bring more zombies,” Lucy said.

Already it was too late for us. I could hear the approaching zombie horde, and they sounded as pissed as ever. We had run out of time and options. Looking behind me into the distance, I saw nothing. At least they wouldn’t be coming from that direction I thought. Which meant by a process of elimination that they would be coming from the direction opposite, which happened to be the side of the door that Sandra’s body was on.

“Sandra! Zombies are coming. Here, let me help,” I offered as I got to my feet.

“Leave me the fuck alone, you bastard!” she yelled.

Ignoring her, I stepped forward, but she had been ready and struck out by kicking my shins through the bars.

“Hey, I’m trying to help you. They’re almost here, and they’ll kill you for sure,” I warned.

“Lay one finger on me, and I’ll kick your balls so hard that you’ll be chewing on cashews for weeks!” she spat.

But it was too late. Already the zombies had turned the corner and were on final approach as their roars reverberated down the corridor.

“Blaine, you fucker!”

Sandra yelled one final insult as the first zombie flew at her butt. It wrapped its arms around her hips and buried its face deep into her right buttock. It ripped and tore through the thin fabric of her clothing and gouged a huge chunk of ass meat away between its teeth. Sandra wasn’t still, nor was she quiet. The screams she uttered were monumental in their intensity, causing Lucy and Joe to cover their ears. Initially, she had kicked out in desperation, trying to keep her assailants from munching on her behind, but she failed to make any significant contact, allowing the first attacking zombie to embed his face in her rump. Impossibly, her screams became louder as the zombie’s brethren joined their brother’s side and began to feast on Sandra’s defenseless back and rear quarters.

Lucy could not stand watching the horrific scene and ran to Violet, who cradled her petite form while covering the young woman’s ears. Joe went forward and shoved his steel bar through the barred door, trying to strike the zombies, but the situation was dire. All he managed to do was to spur on the zombies in their feeding frenzy.

“Blaine, do something please!” yelled Lucy.

I felt for Lucy, and for the rest of the group too. I had to do something quick.

“Violet, your machete please,” I said to Violet.

Violet handed me the machete-sized cleaver that she’d been given during our brief rest in the kitchen.

“What are you gonna do, sonny?” Violet asked.

“Hurry, Blaine. Please,” Lucy begged.

“Quick, Blaine. Whatever you’re gonna do, do it fast!” Joe urged as he backed away from the steel bars.

So I did. I moved with purpose and pure intent in what I do best. Crossing the distance between myself and Sandra took only a moment, not even enough time for Sandra to register that I now stood to her left. I gripped her hair once more and pulled on it, causing her neck to stretch out a little. This gave me the clearance I needed for a clean swing, and I swung. The cleaver came down with lightning speed, slicing through her vertebrae, sinew, and muscle, and resulting in a head perfectly separated from its neck. Bright-red blood sprayed outward with an almost mist like consistency, covering the stunned group while Sandra’s corpse collapsed and fell backwards. The zombies repositioned themselves and continued to feed regardless.

Lucy fell to her knees, crying, while Violet looked on in shock as I handed the machete back to her.

“Thanks, Violet,” I said.

Henry held his wife close and tried to console her, while Joe just stared at me. As each of them recovered, they turned to look at me and glowered.