Authors: Adam Millard
As Shane and Michaelson fell through the door, pulling it closed behind them, the blood-curdling screams of Rooster Hill followed them.
*
It was worth waiting for. It all came apart so easy, too, once it stopped moving and trying to wriggle away. He pulled the innards out, and ate those first, which was probably the best thing to do; there was very little movement after that. The noises, they came for a while, but maybe that was normal.
As he ripped at the flesh with his hands and teeth, he didn't notice that most of it was falling back out of his stomach and landing on his knees.
Neither did he care.
Because in that moment, Governor Charles dean was truly happy.
*
Shane scrambled to his feet and pulled both Marla and Michaelson to theirs.
'We need to move,' he said. The horrible sound of scratching and moaning came from only a few corridors away. 'There's more of them coming.'
'Oh God!' Marla cried. They started to run, but with the lights flickering overhead and the fear of crashing into a horde from another direction it was harder than it sounded.
'Fucking guns,' Michaelson panted; obviously being a prison guard didn't require much in the way of physical fitness. He threw the second pistol, the one that had fired, against the wall, where it smashed into about six pieces.
'What are you doing?' Marla yelped, slowing a little so that she could get the sentence out coherently.
'No bullets left,' the guard replied. 'Don't you think I would have used them if there
had
been?'
They raced onwards. Shane hoped that they hadn't taken a wrong turn, but his fears were quickly disposed of when he recognised a fire-extinguisher hanging on the wall.
'Almost there,' he said. 'Are you both okay?'
'Could be worse, I guess,' Marla said, pulling across her blouse to prevent exposing herself. The prick, Rooster, had torn her clothes up pretty good.
Luckily, thanks to the two men she was with, that was
all
that he had managed to tear up.
Nearby – so close that their insides trembled – there was a guttural grunt. It sounded like the gateway to Hell opening up beneath the prison, and it might as well have been. The noise didn't stop them; nothing would have in that moment. As they raced for the basement gate, Shane could only think of his family. Were they okay? Was the virus as widespread as feared? It occurred to him as they ran that he had had the computer on in the governor's office. Surely Charles Dean had had internet access. They had missed the perfect opportunity to check on the outside world, to see if the infection was attacking anywhere else.
How had they been so fucking
stupid
?
Shane didn't think to mention it to Marla or Michaelson, not
now
. What would be the point?
'That's it,' Michaelson said, breathlessly. 'That's the first gate.'
Shane didn't stop running until he was touching the codepad. It was then that his mind went blank.
'
Fuck
!' he snarled. 'Can anyone remember the fucking number?'
Marla cried, 'Are you fucking
kidding
me?'
'Does it
look
like it?' Shane said, allowing his fingers to stroke the keys, nervously. 'There were sevens, I know that.'
'Hurry it up,' Michaelson said. 'I can see....something...'
Shane glanced to the left, past Marla's head, and was instantly greeted by the sight of lurching shadows, ambling towards them. As the corridor lights continued to flutter, it became clear that there were at least twenty of them, maybe more. They started grunting, moving faster, as if they knew that they didn't have time to claim their lunch.
'
Fuck
!' Shane said, turning back to the codepad. He typed in a number, one that sounded right to him.
Seven-One-Seven-Four...
The light, which was flashing impatiently beneath the codepad, remained red.
'Fuck!' Shane reiterated. 'I'm sure it was something like that.'
'Well,' Michaelson said, not taking his eyes from the approaching creatures. 'Something
like
the code isn't going to be good enough to get us out of here.'
Marla couldn't speak. In fact, it was all that she could do not to scream.
'Seven-Four-Seven-One,' Shane said, and then keyed the code into the panel. His heart was almost in his mouth, and seemed to be palpitating in a very unhealthy manner.
Click
...
The flashing red light transformed into a stable green one.
'Thank fuck!' Shane said, nudging the gate open with his thigh. It was heavier than it looked, and he had to put more weight behind it to shift it fully. 'Quick.'
Marla, who didn't need telling twice, was through the gate while it was only half-open. The guard, Michaelson, slipped through just after.
'Hurry up!' Marla screamed. 'They're coming!'
Shane thought of retorting with something sarcastic, but it was neither the time nor the place. He stepped through the gate, and all three of the forced it shut.
Just as it clunked back into place, the force of what felt like a hundred bodies slammed into it. The green light on the wall turned back into a flashing red. Marla and Shane stepped away from the gate, turning to the next panel, which required the fingerprint of an employee.
'Your turn,' Shane said to Michaelson, who was standing next to the first gate, his eyes staring down towards the floor, his face contorted – from what they could see of it – into something akin to disappointment.
'What is it?' Marla asked, almost inaudible over the maniacal cries of the slobbering horde slamming against the gate.
Michaelson didn't speak.
He didn't need to.
He held up his hand, and that was all that was needed. A scratch, four fingernails, stretched from his knuckles to his wrist. Blood had already begun to squeeze between the cuts.
'Shit!' Shane said, kicking the brick wall which housed the fingerprint scanner. 'Shit, shit, shit!'
Michaelson, as expected, looked terrified. 'I'm going to become one of them,' he said. 'One of those fucking beasts.'
'It's going to be alright,' Marla said, but didn't know how. How was
anything
going to be alright ever again?
Michaelson didn't say another word, and as far as either Shane or Marla knew, he never spoke again. He walked the distance between the first gate and the second, placed his hand on the pad, and waited for the scanner to work its magic.
When it did, the second gate slid open.
'We can't just leave you here,' Shane said, yet even he knew that they were out of options. 'It's not right. It's not fucking
right
.'
The guard turned and slumped against the wall. He held a hand up, the bloodied hand, and waved them on.
'We have to go,' Marla said. 'We can't do anything for him. He's infected.'
Shane shrugged Marla's hand away. He hadn't meant to be so rude, but what they were about to do was about as inhumane as it came.
'Fuck!' Shane snarled, and grabbed onto Marla's hand. They ran.
*
There came a cacophony of cries from inside the jail; it was almost as if the creatures knew that they were trapped, with nowhere to go, with nothing to devour. They were, in a sense, completely helpless.
Shane and Marla ran, hand in hand, through an underground car-park. Shane asked if Marla's car was parked anywhere in the vicinity, and she told him that it was, but her keys were in her jacket, which was still hanging up on the back of Governor Dean's door.
Typical
, Shane thought, as they rushed through the rows of cars towards the exit, which was illuminated at the far end of the lot by a large green sign with a white arrow upon it.
'Shane,' Marla said, grabbing his arm. 'I'm scared. What if they're out there? What if it's not safe?'
'Then we're gonna be in a whole heap of shit,' Shane said, with no sugar-coating whatsoever. Truth be told, he was trying to push that thought as far back into his brain as he could. If the virus was out there, then all hope was lost, and Holly and Megan would be lost along with it.
They reached the door which led to the outside, and stopped. Shane grabbed Marla by the shoulders and turned her so that they were facing completely. Her eyes were glistening with tears that had yet to appear, her bottom lip trembled with an amalgamation of fear and breathlessness.
'Whatever is out there,' Shane said, 'we'll be okay. I promise you.'
Marla allowed her gaze to fall to the floor; Shane placed a finger beneath her chin and lifted her head gently.
'We've come too far to die,' he said, stroking her cheek tenderly. 'And I swear to you that no matter what, I will take care of you as best as I can.'
Marla knew – it was his eyes that confirmed it – that he was telling the truth. He wasn't going to leave her as soon as they made good their escape; he wasn't going to abandon her to go in search of his own family, at least not straight away. Whatever happened, he would be by her side until she no longer needed him. His eyes revealed all of that to her in less than a second, and the warmth of the knowledge sent shivers coursing through her body.
'Thank you,' she said, her hand brushing against his as it continued to stroke at her chin. Her words didn't seem enough, but they were all that she had, for the time being anyway.
'Okay,' Shane said, turning back to face the door. 'Ready?'
She paused, took a deep breath, and then said, 'Ready.'
Shane pushed the handle of the door down and they stepped out into the foggy light of the dawn.
*
For a moment Shane couldn't believe what he saw. Something so unreal and terror-inducing that his brain could not acknowledge quickly enough.
The helicopter was the final nail in the coffin. It was parked right there on the street, sandwiched between rows of cars that had not moved for some time. The rotors of the helicopter weren't moving, but then why should they be? The pilot had no idea how long he would be waiting, and with the way things were, fuel conservation was of utmost priority. The side-door of the helicopter slid across to reveal Terry and Jared. Terry jumped down and urged the static couple towards the chopper. As he did, the pilot must have realised that the final survivors had appeared and time was of the essence.
There was a mechanical whirr before the rotors began to spin slowly around. Terry, for fear of losing the top of his head – which he had seen once in a movie – climbed back aboard the helicopter.
'I don't think
that
is good news,' Marla said. Shane was already running through several scenarios in his head, none of which were happy. The helicopter was there for a reason, and since it was a military helicopter – according to the USAF printed along the side of it – it was quite simple to determine that the country was perhaps up shit creek without a paddle.
'Come on!' Terry cried from the door to the chopper. 'They're coming.' He pointed away.
In the distance, a horde of them, lunatics, creatures, things,
zombies
, ambling down the street towards the helicopter, enticed by the sound of the whirring rotors, vying for blood and flesh. Marla saw them first and grabbed Shane forward. Shane was trying to invoke happy thoughts, which was almost impossible.
'MOVE!' the pilot yelled out of the front of the chopper. As he did, a second soldier leaned out and began to fire upon the nearing horde. A few of them toppled over as their skulls exploded, showering brain matter and bone fragments into the air. As bullets hit cars with deadened thuds, alarms began to sound and tail-lights began to flash.
This, Shane thought, is not the time to freeze up. 'Go,' he said. Marla didn't need telling twice. They ran for the helicopter, ignoring the sounds of zombies grunting and screaming as they were either gunned down or raced onwards. The helicopter rotors were at full-speed, now. In fact, it was hovering about a foot from the ground by the time they reached it and dived in. Terry grabbed a hold of Marla, who hadn't quite jumped high enough and subsequently left her legs dangling out for one of the creatures, had there been any near enough, to help themselves.
The pilot – a man that they would later call by the nickname
Flyboy
– took the chopper directly upwards, and it seemed it wasn't a moment too soon as the horde reached them and pounded, maniacally, on the underside of the helicopter. Shane and Marla lay face-down on the floor until a few seconds later, when Terry patted Shane on the shoulder.
'They wanted to leave without you,' Terry said, helping Shane to his feet. The helicopter banked suddenly, almost sending Shane back out through the open door. 'I made them stick around.'
Jared sat silently, strapped into the helicopter as if his life depended on it. His head was buried deep in his hands as he tried to come to terms with what had happened, and what was going to happen from hereon in.
'Thanks,' Shane said, smiling insignificantly. 'Where did they come from?'