Wormwood Dawn (Episode IV) (6 page)

They immediately fell upon the victim closest to the door. The man’s screams pierced the darkness as his flesh was ripped apart, and Dan held his breath again to avoid screaming as well. He eyed Mike, whose eyes were obviously wide with terror; even through the darkness.

He heard another scream as the next victim awoke. The Shamblers cackled with delight, ripping into him and tearing him limb from limb. Dan felt the splash of blood on the small of his back, and heard the glopping sounds of guts being spilled onto the floor. The sounds of chewing and gurgling sickened him. He pictured the revolting creatures ripping into his own flesh with their crooked, rotting teeth. A lump rose in his throat, but he resisted the urge to let it loose.

Dan turned his head to look toward the Shamblers. Mike suddenly swallowed, and the gulping sound alerted the monsters. They froze, turning in Mike's direction. Dan gritted his teeth in anticipation. He watched one of the Shamblers rise up into a crouching position, sniffing and cackling as it scanned the room.

The fucking bitch moaned.

The alert Shambler pounced, sinking its teeth into her flesh. She struggled wildly, screaming and clanking her chains as the creatures tore into her. Dan felt a sense of remorse. Not that he blamed himself for knocking her out, but for not being able to get them all free before the creatures came.

But, he thought, better her than me.

Through the darkness, he could see Mike start to strain greatly. Dan’s own arms and abs were burning, and he knew that neither of them could keep their position much longer. But, if they dropped back down, they were doomed. The Shamblers would rip them to pieces in seconds.

Unless they could use the mass of chains to their advantage.

Dan squinted, focusing on the dangling links. Along their lengths, he saw hooks in various places. The entire mass of them were made this way, forming some kind of rusty, razor-sharp barrier that would shred anyone who tried to escape. Everyone including a charging Shambler. He looked at them gnawing away at their meals. There were a few hooks embedded in their flesh, but they seemed oblivious to them. Oblivious, but vulnerable.

Dan got an idea.

He jingled the chain in his left hand, attracting the attention of the two creatures. Mike shot him a look from the corner of his eyes, grimacing in terror as the Shamblers stood, growling and sniffing. One of them stepped toward them, its embedded chains clanking as it was drawn along. The Shambler stepped forward again, coming just a little closer.

Come on, fucker,
Dan thought.
A little more.

He slowly drew back his leg, unwrapping the chain from around his ankle. If he could time his kick right, and get a good, solid impact against the creature’s head, he could probably get it tangled up. Its thrashing would tie it up further, and maybe the other creature would panic and do the same.

It was worth a shot.

Dan held his breath as the creature took another step. It stopped, sniffing as it its head slowly lifted upward. Dan knew it had sensed them. With a quick exhale, he kicked. His foot impacted the creature’s head, sending it reeling back into the wall of chains. The entire mass of them trembled and swung with its weight, and the sound of ripping flesh told Dan that the hooks had caught. The creature howled and thrashed, turning the chains into a tornado of swaying blades.

The other creature leaped up, charging toward Dan. It was caught up in the chains, and began thrashing and screaming in fury. But it ripped its way out and leaped upward. Dan pulled himself up higher, struggling to hold his weight in such an awkward positon.

“
Kick it!”
Dan shouted.

Mike growled with determination, sending his foot into the back of the creature’s head. It pitched forward, catching on the chains near Dan’s head. A hook grazed his scalp, but he laughed as he saw the Shambler stop and struggle as it was tangled up. Dan pulled himself to the side to avoid the creature’s claws, arching his back to stay out of reach. The Shambler growled and squealed in fury, swiping it claws and gnashing its teeth.

Suddenly, Dan’s left shackle came free. The bolt that held it into the ceiling pulled through, dropping a shower of loose stone and dirt onto his face. He was now holding himself up with one hand; the other one free, but still attached to the chain.

The first Shambler broke loose, ripping its own flesh in the process, and charged again. Dan swung his loose chain toward it, catching a group of hooks and pulling them his way. The charging Shambler was caught up again, but now Dan’s left arm was caught as well. He tugged at his chain, groaning with pain as the Shambler’s struggles jerked at his arm.

Mike kicked at the Shambler with his foot, catching it right in the temple. The creature’s head caught another hook, and Dan could see the rusted metal poke through the creature’s temple. It screamed and struggled, pulling the hook in deeper. Mike kicked it again, and Dan pulled at his chain. Their combined effort put the Shambler off balance, and it pitched forward in a freefall through a gap in the chains. The hook tore through its temple, laying open its skull and spilling out what little brains were in there.

It hung motionless as its head was emptied of all its contents.

“Fuck!” Mike said. “We killed it.”

Dan jerked at his chain, freeing it with one painful tug. He turned to the other Shambler, whose struggling was beginning to pay off. Dan choked up on his left shackle, pulling the chain up through his fingers to grasp the rusted restraint in his hand. With a quick motion, he flung the shackle right at the Shambler’s head, catching it right in the mouth. Its teeth shattered with the impact, sending it into a frenzy. Mike dropped his legs down, spinning his body to aim a good, swift kick. Dan did the same, and the two waited for the right moment to strike.

When the Shambler charged forward to free itself, they both let loose, sending the creature back with a force that tore open it rib cage as it pushed through the hooks. It struggled to regain its balance as its innards spilled to the floor. When it came back into range, they kicked again, this time catching it head and sending it into a wall of hooks. It was now suspended in the air; impaled with dozens of sharp barbs, with all of its weight held up with its head.

Dan grinned as he saw it struggle. Its own thrashing drove the hooks in deeper, and the two men could hear the crunching and ripping of its skull separating. Like its companion, it finally fell limp.

They had won.

“Dude,” Dan said, smiling. “We fuckin’ did it.”

Mike nodded breathlessly. “Awesome,” he said, still dangling. “Now what?”

Before Dan could answer, the chains suddenly let loose, dropping them to the floor. As Dan impacted the stone floor, he swore he had heard the cracking of a whip just before the chains fell. It was as if something had cut them all at once. He lay still, peering into the shadows as he heard a faint shuffle.

Near the door, he saw the ghostly form of the harlequin mask floating high above the floor. It was still, but menacing. The heavy breathing sound broke the silence, and Dan knew that the psycho mutant was there. Mike remained still, stunned with the impact of falling into the hard stone. Dan’s heart thumped with terror. He knew that any second, the mutant would end their miserable lives with some macabre attack.

But the terror did not come.

The harlequin mask faded as its wearer disappeared into the portal. The metal door slid shut behind it, echoing loudly. Dan let himself breathe again, but still laid there silently for a few moments as he caught his breath.

“What the fuck was that?” Mike whispered.

“That was our host,” Dan said.

He propped himself up onto his elbows, staring up at the window. The sun was beginning to rise, and the darkness was becoming a ghostly blue. It was morning, and their captor would soon be retiring to the storeroom to sleep.

And he had left them unfettered.

Dan smiled. “He’s going to sleep.”

“Let’s get the fuck out of here, then,” Mike said.

“We will,” Dan said. “Give him a few hours to get settled in. This is all too weird.”

“What do you mean?”

Dan sat up, shaking his head and rubbing his wrists. “I usually get put to sleep in the morning, or close to it.”

Mike stood, pulling his hands against the shackles to free them. It was no use. The shackles were too tight. But he was smiling, realizing that freedom was still a possibility.

“Alright,” he said. “When we know he’s asleep, we’ll get to work on that window.”

Dan nodded. His heart was thumping again, but this time it was thumping with hope.

Before the sun went down again, he would be free.

After having dozed off for a few hours, Dan and Mike awoke to sunlight shining in through the tiny window. The room was now lit enough for them to see the carnage, and they both decided that the darkness was better—in that respect, at least.

The floor was covered in the oddly forged chains, with lumps showing where the bodies of the other people, and the Shamblers were buried beneath. Where there was bare floor, there was the sickening, thick blood that oozed slowly toward the center drain, helped along by the continuous stream of rain water that leaked in through the window frame.

The smell was unbelievable.

“We don’t have any tools to chisel away at the blocks,” Mike said, examining the window sill.

Dan felt around for any loose blocks, finding a few gaps here and there, but they were still mostly solid. However, there was a large vertical crack going from the corner of the window frame to about halfway down the wall.

“The wall itself is weak,” he said. “It happens when there’s no drainage installed at the footer. I bet that freak dug this basement himself. That would explain why there’s blocks on the ceiling.”

“Yeah,” Mike said, looking up. “Who the fuck builds a block ceiling? And how the fuck did he do it without it collapsing?”

Dan reached down to grab a length of chain. “We could use this to pull the wall open or something,” he said. “If we break the glass, we can wrap it around the bar in the middle.”

He pressed his hand against the glass, pushing outward to test its thickness. It was fairly sturdy; not the thin, frail glass that builders usually used nowadays. But, it was still glass, and it would break with a good, sharp impact. Dan took off his left boot, wrapping the length of chain around the heel.

“This should do it,” he said.

He pulled the chain tight, securing it by running the hook on the end through one of the links. It was heavy, sturdy, and would definitely bust the glass. He only hoped that the mutant psycho was not a light sleeper.

He put his hand inside the boot, positioning it to fit like a boxing glove, and raised his fist to deliver a punch. With a groan, he let loose. The glass shattered easily, but loudly. The two of them froze, gritting their teeth and staring at each other as they waited in silence. When they were sure that they were safe, Dan unraveled the chain and handed it to Mike.

“Just loop it around and we’ll each take an end.”

Mike wrapped the chain around the center bar and handed Dan the other end. They pulled the chain taut, digging their heels into the floor.

“Pull,” Dan said.

They grunted with the effort, each of them tugging their hardest and watching the crack separate as they strained. Though the wall was weakened, it still very sturdy, and even the two of them combined were not enough to completely rip it open. Nevertheless, they continued pulling. The window frame creaked, and the remaining corners of glass popped out as it was deformed.

“Keep it up,” Dan growled. “It’s giving way.”

“Fuck,” Mike protested. “My back is killing me.”

“Just keep your eyes on the prize,” Dan said. “It’s a shitty day outside, but it’s freedom.”

Mike grunted again, and Dan pulled harder. The window frame made a popping noise, and they heard a chunk of rock fall to the floor. A block at the bottom left corner had cracked in half and the mortar was torn away with it.

“Hold on,” Dan said.

He laid the chain down, going to the window to examine the small hole they had made. Behind the blocks was a solid slab of concrete. The blocks themselves had been mortared to it, giving it the illusion of a frail block wall.

“Wow,” Dan said. “This is like a fucking bunker.”

Fortunately, Dan saw that the window frame was only bolted in, not built in; nor was it secured with rebar. The bolts had rusted with the constant flow of water, and were all that stood between them and freedom—if they could squeeze through that is.

“It’s a tight fit,” Dan said, “but I think we can do it.”

They positioned themselves again, pulling in unison on the count of three. With a little more effort, the window frame creaked again, and they heard another pop as a second bolt was broken.

“Keep going,” Dan said through a groan.

Another pop, and the frame buckled; bending outward enough to grab its left edge. Dan dropped the chain again and grabbed the exposed edge, bracing himself against the wall with his foot. He pulled with all his might, feeling the frame give way. It protested with a whining creak, but bent farther and farther until another bolt popped. Mike reached up and grabbed the frame farther down, and the two jerked it loose, letting it fall to floor.

Dan stared up at the empty window jamb, almost trance-like. The prospect of walking in the open air again had stunned him, and he almost felt afraid.

“Go, man,” Mike said, bending down and cupping his hands together to boost him up.

Dan nodded, stepping into Mike’s hands. He was definitely going to have to struggle to get through the narrow gap, but he was willing to risk injury. He stuck his head through, taking in the fresh, damp air, and scouting the area outside. The landscape seemed unfamiliar, as if the neighborhood had changed somehow.

“Is it clear?” he heard Mike ask.

“Not sure,” Dan groaned as he struggled to find something to grab onto. “Push me through.”

He helped as much as he could; digging his fingers into the mud and clawing to get a grip. It gave way too easily, but he was able to grab the edges of the concrete portal and shimmy through halfway. Though it was a tight fit, his complete lack of ass would ensure that he could get out.

Finally, he was free. He laid there in the mud for a moment to catch his breath, and then turned around to help Mike get out. He grabbed Mike’s hand and pulled, bracing himself against the window. He looked around as he helped, seeing that they were indeed at the same house. The neighborhood had simply been bombed, as was the rest of the forest, and everything lay in waste.

His house was no doubt in ruins.

“I’m too fat!” Mike said. “I can’t get my gut out.”

“Suck it in,” Dan said. “Fuck the pain.”

Mike groaned, wiggling his waist from side to side, gasping as the concrete edges scraped against his skin. Finally, he managed to squeeze out, and he staggered to his feet.

“Where the fuck are we?” he asked, breathlessly.

“Old state road 37,” Dan said. “Near the state forest.”

“Jesus, man,” Mike exclaimed. “What happened?”

Dan started off toward the street. “Gephardt,” he said. “That’s what happened.”

Mike caught up to him, still huffing from the ordeal. “Where are you heading?”

“I’m going home,” Dan said. “If it’s still there, I’m gathering supplies and heading to Bloomington.”

“For what? That town’s probably swarming with zombies.”

“My friends are there. They were taken during a firefight for some reason. I have to get them out.”

Mike nodded. “Okay, man,” he said. “But I think I need to go home, too. I’m worried that this freak will hunt me down, though.”

Dan shook his head. “I think you’re alright,” he said. “He’s after me.”

“Fuck,” Mike said. “I suppose I need to find a car or something.”

“Follow me,” Dan said. “There are a ton of Hummers at my place.”

It took nearly a half hour for the two of them to reach the creek. Along the way, they were both shocked at the amount of destruction left behind by the airstrike. It seemed like the entire forest had been burnt to the ground, and only the bare trunks of a few trees remained standing. It didn’t even look like the same area.

Dan’s heart sank when he spotted his house. There was nothing left but the block foundation, the chimney, and a huge pile of rubble that was once his home. He stopped in his tracks, feeling the rage build within him. Mike was silent, letting Dan grieve on his own.

Dan’s memories came flooding back; memories of his dad, his drunken nights alone, and the good times he had spent with his little
plague posse—
if you could really call them good times.

“There are probably five Hummers sitting on the street,” Dan said, “and a propane truck if you want it. The Hummers should all be loaded up with weapons. Take what you want.”

They crossed the creek, and Dan pointed out the propane truck—which was still intact somehow—and the four Hummers that were left. In addition to the one that had been destroyed by Jake’s bomb, another one had bitten the dust.

“Hey,” Mike said, turning to Dan with his hand out. “Thanks for everything. I owe you big time.”

Dan took his hand, shaking it firmly. “No problem, man. Get away as fast as possible. I don’t know where we’re going after I get the guys out… if I do.”

Mike nodded, glancing at the marooned truck in the creek. “I guess I’ll take the propane truck.”

“Good luck, bro,” Dan said. “The keys are in it.”

He sprinted toward his house—what was left of it—and eyed the property, searching for anything that may have been left behind. He knew he would have to get away as quickly as possible, as the mutant killer would surely know that this would be the first place he would come.

He searched the area where he had been hiding after getting shot, hoping the sniper rifle was still there. He frantically sloshed through the water, kicking leaves and logs out of the way, growling with anger. The rifle was gone.

Who had taken it?

He heard the propane truck start up and glanced that way. Mike gave him a thumbs up as he drove it over the bank and through the yard. Dan returned the gesture, going to the Hummer to see if it had been damaged or looted. Everything seemed to be as he left it. He sighed with relief.

As Mike drove away, Dan leaped onto the porch and began sifting through the ruins. There were several items he wanted to fetch, and thankfully, he found them all with a little searching. Jake’s duffel bag, with the Apocalypse Compendium was still there, as well as the art bag full of prescription drugs, and his laptop.

He fetched his 870p, which was still lying on the floor, along with all the shells he could find. He then carried everything back to the Hummer, threw it in the back seat, and turned to look once more at his home.

There was a lump in his throat. He fought the urge to cry, without really knowing what difference it would make. No one else was around. Who would give a fuck?

“Fuck you, Gephardt,” he cursed.

Then, he saw something else he hadn’t thought about before. Over near the area where his friends had been captured, he could see the tell-tale cylinder of Jake’s flamethrower. He grinned, running over to it. It was intact.

“Fuck yeah,” he said.

He carried it back to the Hummer and tossed in the back seat with the rest of the shit. He reached back to retrieve the shotgun, put it in the passenger seat, and started up the Hummer. It purred like a kitten, and he easily backed it out of the creek.

He floored it, tearing through the yard and onto the gravel road. He would waste no more time here searching for anything else. There were plenty of places along the way to gather any more supplies he needed.

He just needed to get away before his captor knew he was missing.

The highway to Bloomington was littered with abandoned vehicles. There were lines of cars, frozen in time, indicative of a mass exodus that had been stalled by military interference. People had tried to escape the city, going north for some reason, and the presence of troop transports and tanks told Dan that the National Guard had at least tried to organize them or transport them to safety.

It wasn’t until a few minutes and several miles later that Dan realized there had been a huge firefight. Near a gas station about five miles south, the cars and landscape were in ruins. A bombing run and ground attack had occurred here. The military vehicles were destroyed, along with the cars, and the ground was littered with bodies; military, Gephardt, and civilian alike.

Strangely, there seemed to be a complete lack of infected.

Feeling his stomach churning with hunger, Dan pulled into the gas station, carefully navigating through the maze of burned out vehicles to reach the parking lot. The station was mostly destroyed, with broken out glass, crumbled cinder block walls, and gas pumps that were ripped from the ground. The large awning that covered the fuelling area had collapsed, and several semis that were parked in the lot had been overturned.

It was a fucking mess.

Dan pulled the Hummer up to the curb, glaring at the destruction. Though there was little of the station left, there would possibly be something leftover he could eat. He hoped so, anyway. His stomach was churning, and his mouth was bone dry.

He shut off the Hummer, grabbing his shotgun from the passenger seat and quietly stepping out. Everything was quiet; a little too quiet. He pushed the door closed, avoiding slamming it as he normally would. There was something in the air that told him to be discreet.

The full-length windows made an easy entrance into the station’s café area. Here, the machines and tables were broken and scattered; cream and sugar packets covering everything. There was a donut rack that was overturned with its contents spilled everywhere. No matter, day old donuts were bad enough; much less, month old.