The Screaming (Book 2): Refuge Page 3

  “WAIT, STOP!” Max shouted as he flung the door open and jumped out of the vehicle.

  “Where are you going? Fee demanded.

  Max rushed to the rear of the van and wrestled the mangled gates closed, before hurrying back to the van.

  “Everybody down!” He commanded as he leapt into the van and ducked behind a seat with his Glock raised.

  “Is it locked? Fee was desperate to know.

  “SSHHH!” Max expelled with a stern look. No smile this time.

  Suddenly the road beyond the gates drew dark as a deluge of mangled, blood soaked bodies filled the narrow road and surged past the gates. Hundreds of ravenous infected, thrusted their way down the constricting street, violently skirmishing for progress through the tight thoroughfare. One gory ravaged body, too distorted to differentiate between male and female, fell with exhaustion under the feet of those that had hustled it along and was instantly crushed under the pressure of hundreds of marching feet.

  The gates rattled and vibrated as the swarm teemed past. Inch by inch the heavy iron barrier edged slowly open, as the diseased mass bounced off the rapidly failing blockade.

  “It’s going to give way. We have to move.” Janet fearfully whispered.

  Max nodded, quietly moved to the door and stepped out of the van, his weapon raised ready to react to any surprises. Janet and Fee watched expectantly as he shuffled to the rear of the vehicle, before moving swiftly around the far side and back along to the front. Fee found herself looking at Zac. Despite everything he hadn’t moved, his head still rested on the passenger window, his eyes looked blank and empty.

  “Zac? We’re going to have to go in a minute.” Fee whispered, placing her hand on his shoulder.

  “He’s not in there love!” Janet murmured as she waved her hand in front of his impassive face.

  “I thought you said we could get the bus over the bridge?” Fee abruptly challenges Janet.

  “I… I thought…” Janet was grateful to be cut off by Max, returning from his reconnaissance.

  “There’s a ladder up to the railway.” He instantly whispered as he stuck his head back in the door.

  “Okay. I’m sorry, I thought there was a service road up to the tracks.” Janet softly apologised.

  “Don’t worry about that now, get moving. Quietly!” He replied.

  Fee edged slowly towards the door and Janet clambered over her seat to follow her out.

  “You go, I’ll get Zac.” Fee said to Janet with a reassuring nod.

  “Zac, Zac, it’s time to go sweetie.” Fee said as she placed her hand on his cheek.

  A sudden clank reverberated around the yard as the large iron gates gave way, and dozens of mutilated scavengers buckled to the ground, crumpled and overwhelmed by the surging mob of malformed monsters. Bones and skulls cracked and popped under hundreds of feet as the newly discovered open ground was rapidly flooded with coursing bodies. Max lead off towards the rusty iron ladder, which clung to the side of the forty foot brick viaduct about twenty metres ahead of the van.

  “Zac, we’ve got to go. Now!” Fee begged as she frenziedly tugged at his arm.

  “Quick, they’re going to see us.” Janet pleaded.

  But it was too late, as he focused on his new surprising surroundings, an infected teenage boy, devoid of a stitch of clothing, but fashioning a blanket of bloody lacerations, bites and bruises, locked his eyes on the panicked group. Time appeared to slow as the boy locked eye contact with Fee for what seemed an eon. The child panted and heaved with exhaustion and looked on the verge of collapse. Large gaping gashes across his torso exposed seeping muscle and a delicate little rib cage. Then, true to form, the battered youngster, drew breath and released a deathly gargling soprano that echoed around the yard.

  Heads snapped and expressions of animated fixation filled the faces of the ever increasing bloody mass that filed into the yard, who having set their sights on their prey, joined the youth in a rendition of ear splitting synchronistic cries.

  “Come on.” Janet pleaded as she tugged on Fee’s top with rapidly increasing panic.

  “Just go.” Fee snaps back.

  Janet was soon nervously hobbling towards Max at the foot of the rusty old ladder, anxiously checking over her shoulder as she worked her way across the yard. Fee projected a peculiar air of calm, as she raised her hands to Zac’s cheeks and looked into his hollow eyes.

  “Come back to me.” She softly whispered as she closed her eyes and allowed her forehead to rest against his.

  A startled jolt, shot through Fee as she felt a hand wrap around hers and grip it tightly. She instantly opened her welling eyes to see a smiling Zac staring back at her.

  “Time to go!” He confidently said as he led Fee towards the ladder.

  Chapter Four

  Rickety rungs clung to flaking old cement, aided by decaying rusted bolts. Janet didn’t break stride as she reached the base of the ladder and rooted her foot on the bottom rung.

  “Up you go, your Holiness!” Max teased as he waved her straight up before turning his attention back to Zac and Fee.

  The shrieking call to battle ceased in abrupt unison and was instantly replaced with the pounding scuffle of hundreds of rapidly advancing feet. A copious flood of snarling, flesh lusting bodies crammed the yard surging towards the pair as they bounded, hand in hand, across the cluttered enclosure.

  “MOVE IT!” Max howled.

  The fleeing pair cut their path through a labyrinth of storage crates, heavy plant equipment and giant rolls of cable, as they weaved towards the ladder. Coursing swells of advancing deformed beasts rolled through the obstructive barriers, like a tidal wave making land fall. Zac swung his arm forward, flinging Fee towards the base of the ladder and she immediately started scurrying up the shaky rusted frame. No sooner had the bottom rung been vacated by Fee’s slender foot, Zac had planted his and was rapidly moving up the side of the wall.

  A barrage of gunshots exploded from the yard below as Zac collapsed onto the pebbled surface at the trackside.

  “MAX!” Janet screamed, as she peered over the edge into the sea of shifting monsters.

  Overcome with relief, she staggered back, head in hands and discretely wiped away a relieved tear, as she saw the weary soldier clambering up to the safety of high ground. No sooner had he gathered his breath and holstered his pistol, he started on Zac.

  “What the fuck was that? You nearly got everyone killed!” He yelled.

  The incensed trooper stomped up to a rejuvenated Zac and grasped his collar, finding himself swiftly berated by a defensive Fee, who jemmied herself between them.

  “Back off Max. He’s been through hell.” She declared.

  “Hell? We’ve all been through hell. In case you haven’t noticed, the world went to shit.” Max retorted.

  Zac raised his hand onto Fee’s shoulder and gave a calming smile.

  “It’s okay Fee. He’s right. It won’t happen again.” He calmly said, looking Max in the eye.

  A surprised Max lowered his flexing arms from Zac’s clothing and shuffled back. He wasn’t expecting such a shrewd, muted apology.

  “Okay then. Good. We better get moving!” He replied as he instinctively busied himself with an inventory of his pouches, equipment and ammunition before taking point towards the bridge.

  “Are you okay Janet?” Fee asked.

  Janet was stood, looking down at the smudged writing on the back of her hand. A tear dropped from under her beaded fringe onto the cuff of her dusty grey shirt.

  “Hell?” She eventually replied.

  “Sorry?” A baffled Fee said.

  “You all think you’ve been through hell?” Janet continued as the others paused to listen, as though parishioners at an impromptu sermon.

  “I believe Hell is yet to darken our lives. God help us!” She concluded, as she walked past the three lambs and trudged towards the bridge.

  Under foot, arteries of steel track spanned the viaduct from wall to wall. The pat
h of the tracks wheeled around towards the river and melded with the modern railway bridge that traversed the vast water. They kept their heads low, scurrying quietly along the track towards the edge of the bridge. To their right they could see the three low arches of London Bridge. The box girder crossing appeared to be teeming with activity. Thick black smoke billowed from a burning vehicle at the northern crossing and distant figures of infected people ran frantically across the back of the once proud structure. To their left Southwark Bridge had met much the same fate.

  Max took to his knee and scanned the opposite bank and the three raw recruits instinctively followed suit. The bridge straightened out across the river. On the opposite bank the tracks combed through several platforms that sat underneath a concourse of station buildings. The station looked uncharacteristically still. It’s once packed platforms devoid of commuting businessmen, who were now consumed by a greed less monetary and more physical.

  “We move fast and low, stick to the wall! Got it?” Max ordered.

  The others nodded and all four were soon moving off along the edge of the tracks. The 1960’s concrete bridge looked cheap in comparison to its historically proud siblings that crossed the cold brown of the Thames at its flanks. The group swiftly laced their way past electric junction boxes, maintenance sheds and stacks of spare track, neatly piled on the limestone hard core. Every few yards, Max took a knee, his every action mimicked by the others. He scanned his surroundings before robotically raising a hand and waving the group onward. Soon they were nearing the half way mark, and as the opportunity presented itself Max ducked behind the cover of a large grey power box, the others quickly followed suit.

  “What is it?” Janet said.

  Max’s usual look of defiant optimism had turned to a look of apprehension and indecision. As the others surveyed across the bridge, they soon realised the cause of his anguish. The platforms sliced up between the tracks and flowed evenly beneath the shadow of the overhanging concourse. Shadows that until now had appeared lifeless and deserted, were in fact far from empty.

  “Screamers!” Max simply uttered.

  The cool underside of the gable coverings was a feeding ground for countless infected. Track and platform were indistinguishable. Bodies covered yard after yard of concrete, steel and hard core. Feeding creatures huddled around desecrated heaps of sodden flesh and shattered bone. Suitcases, bags and holdalls lay scattered like stepping stones through a garden of sickening repulsion. On the middle platform, a large white sheet hung from an advertising billboard to form a make shift sign. It’s once pristine bleached gloss was drenched in the dripping disinterred innards of the dead. Large black letters on the sheet read, “EVAC POINT - K.”

  “What is it?” Fee knew the answer, but found herself asking regardless. No one answered her.

  “There must have been hundreds of people here. Families.” Zac said.

  “We need a new plan. Let’s head back, to the bank and look at our options.” Max proposed.

  “We can’t!” Janet whispered with an air of desperation.

  She pointed back across the bank from where they had abandoned the van and left the horde of screamers scurrying about at road level.

  “They’ve found their way up.” Zac said.

  “We’re trapped. They’ll find us.” Fee was starting to get flustered.

  “Maybe we could jump?” Zac suggested.

  “Into the river?” Max mocked.

  “I had to do it a few days ago. It’s not that bad.” Zac boasted.

  “If the current doesn’t drown us and we don’t die of hypothermia in twenty minutes, oh and then find a safe way to shore, don’t get eaten alive by screamers, then yeah sure! Why not?” Max had comfortably settled into a role of ridicule.

  “Fuck you!” Zac said as he eyeballed Max with scornful detestation.

  Max started boiling over and lurched towards Zac, his fists tightly clenched. He was summarily halted by a hand on his chest and an unyielding look from Janet, like a mother chastising a naughty child. Max rapidly regained his composure and slumped back against the power box.

  “Okay, we need a new plan. Any suggestions?” Janet rallied, swivelling her head from blank face to blank face.

  “Helicopter!” Fee enthusiastically piped up.

  “You know, for a doctor, you’re pretty dumb.” Max sniggered as he despairingly buried his face in his grime soiled hands.

  “No, listen!” She swiftly retorted, brushing off the blunt insult.

  Everyone paused and strained to focus their hearing over the myriad of swathing multitudes that closed in from both sides of the river. Zac closed his eyes in a futile attempt to zero in on a faint distant whirr. Gradually the whining drone of twin rotors cutting through the smoky air became clearer.

  “I hear it.” Zac announced as he scanned the skies.

  The humming buzz echoed confusingly off riverside buildings and Zac struggled to pin-point an origin for the repetitive drumming. They all frantically scanned the peaks of smouldering buildings and distant smoke plumes for signs of the advancing aircraft.

  “There it is!” Fee excitedly broadcast, as she pointed west.

  A good mile up river and seemingly skimming along the surface of the grimy cold water towards them, was the distinctive semblance of a military helicopter. Its large clear cockpit windows mirrored the burning orange of riverbank fires and its twin rotors whisked up trails of thick black smoke in whirlwinds of ejected exhaust.

  “What do we do?” Fee directed her inquiry at Max.

  “I’ve got an infra-red emergency strobe light, it will allow the pilot to see us, but…” Max explained as he fished inside a pouch on the front of his assault vest and pulled out the green torch like objected.

  “But what?” Janet asked.

  “The screamers!” Zac said.

  “Exactly. They’ll be on us like a free buffet. That’s assuming it even stops.” Max continued.

  “What do you mean? Why wouldn’t they? Fee asked.

  “I wouldn’t. They may have orders. It’s risky.” Max replied.

  “Well we have little choice. We have to risk it.” Janet stated and met little opposition.

  Max nodded and pulled a plastic cord from the side of the strobe, before placing it on top of the power box, pointing skyward.

  “Now we wait and hope.” He said, as the four huddled and watched expectantly up river.

  The eddying churn of the twin engines reverberated up the Thames, and quickly drew the attention of the infected on both ends of the bridge. A prompt eruption of synchronised vocalisations shrieked around surrounding buildings and almost overlain the boom of the helicopters rotors in a bellowing contest of noise.

  “They’re moving onto the bridge!” Fee’s anxiety was turning into terror.

  Abruptly the screaming ceased as though directed by a conductor at the front of an orchestra. From the station concourse, dozens of blood drenched, damaged bodies emerged from the shadows and hobbled, limped and scurried across rails and hard-core. Their dark red seeping eyes fixed on the approaching aircraft and their snarling mouths, hung with an expectant gape. From the south bank, tens of disease-ridden figures filed along tracks, mimicking their north bank kin.

  Suddenly the shadowy darkness of the huge green aircraft burst overhead spanning the width of the bridge in a split second, trailing a thick cloud of dark churning smoke and an ear-splitting rapid thump of twin rotors. A huge down draft of turbulent air pressed on the group as they covered their faces and cowered from the resulting barrage of peppering stones, dust and debris that spiralled around them.

  A large ramp on the rear of the helicopter hung open, revealing an airman, dressed from head to foot in an olive green flying suit, and topped with a large green helmet. He clung to a large black machine gun mounted to the floor on a single support, scanning the bridge for any possible threats. Noticing a lull in the gale of turmoil, Zac raised his head to find the helicopter continuing on its path without as much a
s a reduction in speed.

  “They’re not stopping!” He announced.

  “What?” Fee replied in disbelief, as she sprung to her feet with total disregard for her surroundings and frantically waved her arms at the vamoosing frame.

  “WAIT, STOP, we’re down here!” She yelled with a desperate neglect.

  “Shut up!” Max barked, as he grabbed her shoulder and dragged her to the ground.

  It was too late, masses of heads from the south bank, snapped in the direction of the newly discovered prey and simultaneously released a deafening chorus of child-like screams. The emerging group from the north bank followed suit as they examined the concrete crossing for a sniff of the new quarry and lowered their stance ready to run down any fleeing game.

  The concurrent exhibition of spectacular harmonious bawling suddenly died and was instantly replaced with the horrifying thud of stampeding feet on the loose gravel surface. Men and women, with the blood of friend’s family and strangers soaked into their shirts and staining their torn, contorted faces, burst forward as if reacting to a starter pistol. Arms desperately reached out towards their new sport as they honed in. Shattered fingers, dismembered limbs and all manner of injury that wouldn’t look out of place on a battlefield, afflicted every infected creature. Barely one unscathed by its cannibalistic pursuits of recent days.

  Regardless of the imminent fate that presented itself, no one coward, no one recoiled. Max readied his Glock and swiftly checked the depleted ammunition of his last magazine. With a well drilled swift motion he raised the weapon and lined his sights on a slim female who had made impressive progress in the desperate race to the food source. This despite the obvious lack of flesh to her, seeping, gangrenous right leg. An accurate head shot with a single round, would have been ideal in any movie, however in the reality of heated terror and imminent demise it took a costly three rounds to drop her. Zac raised his knife ready to melee with the pouncing hunters. Janet and Fee also stood their ground, gripping their culinary weapons of choice in their increasingly sweaty palms.