The Demented Z (Book 2): Desolation (Book 2) (16 page)

Before Tom could even begin to do anything a demented
pounced on his back, scratching and clawing at his exposed neck.
  Tom tried to swing an elbow around to knock
the creature off, but only got partway through the movement when one of Red’s
monstrous fists slammed into the side of his head.
  Pain shot through his skull, streaking all
the way down his spine. His vision
blurred, tiny white sparkles dotting and dancing across his sight.
  He struggled to remain conscious.
  Sam’s precious face flashed in his mind.

Kelly was a few steps behind Tom when she saw him crash to
the floor. A small girl, maybe in her
teens, jumped on top of his back and began tearing at him.
  Kelly had to do something.
  Looking to her right she saw Hank in the
middle of a pair of demented. He stood
swinging a metal table leg, desperately trying to bring them down.

The chaos surrounding her was nearly overwhelming.
  The sounds of battle were constant, almost a
solid hum, like a crowd at a sports stadium.  
Occasionally the thrum was broken by a scream of agony.

Kelly pushed it away, shoving it out of her mind, and focusing
only on what was right in front of her. She
raised a wicked looking, jagged cleaver above her head and brought it slamming
down on the base of the girl’s skull.  
The body slumped limply on top of Tom.

She watched as the giant man below Tom reached out with both
hands and began squeezing Tom’s head.  
His face contorted and grimaced with effort as he tried to smash Tom’s
skull. Tom reached out for Red’s arms,
grasping them and trying to pull them free.  
Kelly sliced at Red’s forearms.  
The surgical tool easily sliced through the man’s flesh, exposing white
bone before dark red blood oozed out.  
Red still held firm to Tom’s head.

Tom screamed out in agony.

Lunging on top of them, Kelly held the knife in her fist and
brought it arching down into one of Red’s eye sockets.
  The huge arms immediately fell slack and the
big man let out a final gasp of built up air.

Despite this small victory chaos still reigned all
around. Crimson blood spattered the
floor and walls. Bodies clashed and
struggled, some for survival and some out of pure hate and rage.
  They had to get out of here.

As if on cue, the stairwell door suddenly flung open.
  Demented began pouring out, growling with
excitement.

Tom shook the small girl off his back, but was struggling to
stand, still disoriented from the blow he took.
   His head was in excruciating pain and it was
difficult to see clearly. Partway to his
feet his knees buckled, sending him crumpling to the floor.
  He felt a hand reach under his armpit,
working to lift him to his feet. Looking
over his shoulder, he saw it was Kelly.

“Get up Baby, get up!  
We need to move!”   She shouted.

With her help he was able to regain his feet.
  Ahead of him several members of their group
had burst through the wall of demented and were racing down the hall.
  A few of the demented had split off and were
pursuing them.

Kelly grabbed Tom’s arm and started running after them.
  Tom was still a bit woozy but followed after
her. Several others from their group
joined the sprint down the hall, trying their best to just barrel their way
through any demented that still stood.

Demented continued to spill out of the open stairwell door.
  Some of them went straight after people that
still struggled with the wall of demented, while others chased after Tom and
the others.

Tom could hear the demented that followed them, their
shrieks echoing down the long hall. He
could just make out Hank and a few others turning the corner up ahead, four demented
right on their heels. Chasing after some
of the demented did not feel right, but with dozens racing behind them, it was
their only option. Tom realized he no
longer had a weapon. He slid the large
flashlight free of his utility belt, so he at least had something should the
demented in front decide to turn around.

After dodging through an ‘s’ shaped
hallway, Tom saw the Housekeeping door just ahead.
  A dark form just disappeared out of
sight. At the door Tom looked left down
the hall that led past the service elevator he had used previously.
  It seemed like an eternity ago.
  Reaching out to shove the Housekeeping entry
open, he saw several demented racing around the corner past the elevator.
  The sound of feet pounding on concrete
filtered down the open stairway as well.

“This way.”
  Tom shouted.  
His head was finally clearing and he felt able to focus on getting out
of this place. Pushing the door open he
raced through, Kelly following right behind.  
He slammed the metal door closed behind them, hoping it would at least
slow any followers.

Kelly let out a scream from next to him.
  Spinning around, he saw several demented
crawling through the debris left from the shelf they had tipped over
earlier. The noise had caused one of the
demented to freeze partway through the boiler room door.
  Despite the summer heat, the younger man wore
a flannel shirt and thick workman’s pants.  
He stood motionless for a brief moment and then slowly twisted his head
back around, trying to determine the source of the noise.
  One of his eyes had been gouged out long ago,
only a dark hole and black, dried blood remained.

Tom raised the flashlight up by his head and charged
straight at Flannel. Past the door,
several of the demented were just getting to their feet and beginning to race
Tom’s way. Flannel was just getting
turned around when Tom slammed the flashlight into the top of his skull and
crashed into him, shoulder first. His
momentum carried them through the doorway and over a railing.
  They both flew through the air and came
crashing to the hard cement five feet below.  
The impact jarred Tom’s hip and elbow, shooting pain through his
body. The wind was knocked from his
lungs, causing him to gasp for air.

Unaffected by the fall, Flannel began scratching and clawing
Tom. Blood oozed from a deep scratch in
the center of his forehead. Despite the
brutal gash and blood streaming into his eyes he continued to fight with
determined ferocity.

Still hanging onto the flashlight, Tom began repeatedly
smashing it into Flannel’s head. Pain
shot through Tom’s face and neck as the demented ripped into his flesh.
  After several solid hits from the flashlight
Flannel’s movements began to slow. Two
more solid hits and he went still.

Kelly had made it inside the boiler room and closed the
metal door. Demented pounded on it from
the outside, desperate to get in. She
saw Tom finishing off Flannel. The door
handle began to jiggle. “How do we get
out of here?”   She shouted.

Tom was struggling back to his feet.
  “Behind the boiler...there’s a metal
access.”   He started heading that way.

Kelly raced down the short span of stairs, meeting Tom at
the bottom.

“Stay behind me. There
are three demented ahead of us somewhere.”  
Tom said. He really wished he had
a gun. Turning back to Kelly, he held
out the bloody flashlight and said, “Trade me.”

Kelly looked at the flashlight with a grimace and then
hesitantly traded the surgical knife for the flashlight.

Reaching the back corner of the boiler room, Kelly shined
the light down into the dark tunnel, illuminating bare cement.
  Distant noises trickled out of the
opening. Tom used the light to navigate
down the rickety ladder. Inside the
tunnel Tom could clearly hear the sounds of running feet and angered
growls. They sounded distant, maybe
fifty yards or more down the narrow tunnel, but the echo made it difficult to
pinpoint.

Tom heard the metal door in the boiler room above slam into
the wall. Demented screamed out in
delightful anger, knowing they were that much closer to their prey.
  This caused Kelly to let out a muffled scream
and begin a rapid descent down the ladder.  
As soon as her feet hit the floor, Tom began racing down the passageway.
  Kelly’s light bounced from behind him,
casting an eerie human shadow that flickered ahead of him.

Screams and sounds of a struggle reached Tom from somewhere
ahead. The demented had caught up with
those from their group. With no light
they were probably having a difficult time finding the escape ladder.
  Fighting in the dark would be equally
difficult if not more so. Struggling
past his fatigue, Tom raced faster down the tunnel.
  He had to help them.
  Kelly’s light slowly began to diminish as she
lost ground to his sprint.

Demented began to drop into the tunnel behind them.
  Their growls could be heard clearly.
  Tom had to focus on getting to his friends,
pushing away his rising panic. The
thought of being pinned between two sets of demented in the tight dark tunnel
was terrifying. He could only imagine
the terror Kelly felt.

From just ahead he heard Hank yell, “Get up the
ladder!”   There was a loud scream
followed by a shallow grunt.

Kelly’s faint light finally reached the struggle.
  Tom could just make out dark forms with their
backs turned to him. Neither one turned
at his approach, consumed by the fight.  
In the dim bouncing light they looked like apparitions dancing in the
darkness. The angered sounds of fighting
were the only clue to something more sinister.

Knife raised, Tom sprinted up behind them and slammed the
blade into the closest ones neck. The
demented reached back awkwardly, trying to find the reason for his pain.
  His arm jerked spastically.
  A few swipes for the knife’s handle and then
he lowered his arm and began to turn around.  
Tom pulled the blade free and then banged the knife’s hilt hard to his
temple. The demented convulsed and dropped
to the cement.

The second demented crumpled to the ground before Tom could
move in for the attack. In his place
stood a blood drenched Hank, holding a makeshift metal club.
  He swayed a bit.
  Tom stepped over and grabbed him by the
shoulder.

Kelly came running up on them.
  “They’re coming, hurry!”

Hank stood in place.

“Move...get up the ladder.”
  Tom shouted while spinning Hank around,
facing him to the ladder.

Hank nearly tripped over a couple bodies on his way to the
ladder, but once there he made quick work of climbing up the rungs.
  At the top he heaved open the metal cover,
letting the fading light of evening spill in.  
A pair of faces stared down at him.  
At first Tom thought it was a pair of the demented, but then recognized
the faces and realized Hank must have sent them ahead.
  Relief washed over their faces.

Tom turned to Kelly.
“Follow Hank.”   She
started to say something and then thought better of it.

Pounding footsteps grew louder.
  In the faint light Tom could just make out
dark forms racing his way. They saw him
standing in the glow that spilled down from above, growling in
anticipation. They were incredibly
loud. Tom knew there must be dozens of
them.

Looking up, he saw Kelly just climbing up over the lip of
the entrance. Tom raced after her,
taking the rungs as fast as possible.  
Nearing the top, one of the demented grasped his legs, but with a couple
of rapid kicks he freed himself and hoisted his body up and out of the
nightmarish tunnel.

Hank slammed the metal cover closed.
  “Pins, are there hinge pins?”

It took a moment for Tom to realize what Hank was talking
about. When he remembered how they had
gained access to the locked tunnel system he said, “On the ground...they should
be right there on the ground.”

Hank felt around in the dirt and grass.
  Once he located the pins he shoved them back
in place. “That should hold ‘em.”   He said while
turning and sitting on top of the entrance.
   Both Kelly and Tom sat down next to him,
exhaustion taking over. Hank looked over
at them, blood streaming down his face and neck.
  “Well that went to poo.”

Jenny stepped over and said, “Is this it?
  Nobody else made it?”

Tom shook his head.  
“Not unless they went another way...we were followed by dozens of those
things.”   He looked up at Jenny and
added, “Who else made it out with you?”

A younger man, wearing a t-shirt that barely clung to his
body it was ripped in so many places, stepped over.
  Crimson stains streaked across his white
cotton shirt. “Just
me.   That was the worst plan
ever. We’re lucky to...”

“Hey, I didn’t hear any ideas from you when we were stuck in
the OR.”   Hank shouted.

Phillip snapped back, “We were better off up there.”

“You’d have died there if not for Tom.”

Tom raised a hand and said, “He’s right.”

Hank looked over at Tom, shock on his face.
  “What...you just saved all our asses?
  Now this kid...this punk blames you.”

Looking down at his feet Tom felt the full weight of
responsibility. “Lincoln was after me...”
  He shook his head.
  “None of this would have happened if not for
me.”

Nobody said anything more, they just sat in silence.
  Tom knew there was nothing he could do to change
things and had to move on.

The sound of something moving through the nearby brush
suddenly broke the stillness. Tom hopped
up, knife in hand. All of them tensed,
staring at the quivering bushes. A
muffled huff sounded from low to the ground.  
Tom slowly moved in a low crouch toward the source of the noise.

Bursting out of the thick foliage raced a dark shape.
  Tom swung with his knife, but miscalculated
the quickness and just missed over the top.  
The dark form hit him low, driving him backwards to the ground.
  Tom tried to bring the knife around, but the
creature was on top of him and moved right up to his face.
  It furiously started licking him.