Iain McKinnon - Remains of the Dead

The zombie pulled closer. But still there was no wail from its dusty throat, its lungs presumably left behind somewhere along its crawl.

Ali planted his hands on both sides of the zombie’s head. He grabbed hold of the matted and greasy hair and slammed the creature’s head down with all the force he could muster. The jaw cracked on the curb and a thick slab of knotted hair and scalp ripped free in his grasp. Teeth and bone spilled onto the road followed by thick black ooze. But the bone shattering force had done nothing to deter the monster. It used all its pathetic strength to try to draw closer. Ali dropped the chunk of flesh in his hands and grabbed hold again. Lifting the cadaver up, he thumped the skull down for a second time. With a sharp crack the zombie’s jaw fractured and dislocated, hanging split in two like the mandible of some giant insect. The two halves dangled, anchored to its skull by the infection-wrought mastic muscles. Lashing out between the broken bones, the zombie’s tongue flicked and lapped, seemingly unaware it had lost the ability to bite. As it tried to push forward, Ali clasped its head tight between his thick hands. The creature fixed Ali with an unblinking stare. Its eyes were ice white but they burned with insatiable malice. Again Ali battered the head against the ground and again there was the sickening crack of bone, but still the zombie was animate.

Before Ali could attack again there was a focused moan from above. The zombies in the crowd had never stopped moaning, but this one was different. Ali and the rest of the survivors had grown used to the constant low groaning, the low moan of frustration as the dead called relentlessly for food. But there was a second type of call, a quicker louder wail when they caught a glimpse of prey. Ali’s ears heard that excited moan. He looked up, knowing he’d been spotted, and as he turned a zombie fell upon him.

Ali pushed off with his legs and lunged ungracefully away from the attacking zombie. But his clandestine escape had been detected. Above, a circle of zombies had turned their attention to him. As each corpse spotted him they too let out the excited moan. In turn the moan rippled out, drawing more and more in.

“This is bad,” Ali said as he stumbled to his feet.

He craned his neck up as if offering his throat to the zombies, and then jumped into the air. With the extra few inches height the pogo afforded him, he could see the doorway into the apartment block just metres away.

With their customary moans, the zombies pressed in.

Ali lowered his head and charged. Barging his way past the gathering zombies like a running back, he knocked them flying. With a few pounding steps Ali successfully ploughed his way through the crowd.

Like most of the buildings near the warehouse, this one had been looted by the survivors. He knew that the door would have been prised open and easy to get into.

Throwing the last cadaver out of his path, Ali used his momentum to shoulder the dark blue door open. The lock had indeed been jimmied and it flew open with unexpected ease. The door clattered against the entrance wall and swung back. Ali skidded across the slime coated floor and, thrown off kilter, he flailed his arms desperately trying to retain his balance. With no purchase underfoot and too much forward momentum, Ali’s feet slid from under him and he toppled over.

His knees buckled and he came crashing to the floor, smacking his head against the first step. As the pain from the strike found him so did the returning door. The metal runner on the leading edge slashed down his leg, scoring deep into his shin. The pain burnt out his vision, leaving him blinded in agony.

A scream burst from his lips as the pain boiled out of him. Like a rallying call, the zombies gurgled back their own tainted response. The light from outside was devoured as the first wave of ragged assailants stumbled for the door. Forced by the mob behind, the lead zombie lost its footing to the pressure and fell. Unlike a living human being, the creature never tore its gaze away from Ali as it fell. It hit the ground chin first, splitting the rotting flesh from the bone. The creature fell just short of Ali. Unconcerned by its injuries it immediately thrust out with its gnarled arms to seize it prey.

With a primordial scream Ali lashed out with his good leg, battering the zombie away. He backpedalled, kicking as he went scrambling on his backside up the stairs.

The light from the street outside was rapidly disappearing as the zombies crowded in on the doorway. The zombie that Ali had just battered away was proving an effective, if temporary, barrier. The undead fighting their way in were tripping over themselves, their necrotic brains unable to compensate for the hazards underfoot and the shoves from behind. Once down, their withered limbs proved too weak to pull themselves free of the growing stack.

Still facing the pileup of dead flesh, Ali eased himself up using the handrail on the stairs. The gash in his leg was bleeding. Thick rivulets of blood trickled down his ankle and pooled amongst the slime on the floor.

In the close confinement of the hallway the moans of the dead reverberated off the hard walls. The discordant cacophony clawed at Ali’s ears. It was the same chorus of desperation that had surrounded the warehouse but here the walls weren’t muffling the sound. Here the walls were containing them, amplifying them, making the noise infinitely more disturbing.

Holding onto the handrail, Ali hobbled up the steps. As he turned on the first landing he looked back at the heap of bodies in the hallway. A pair of zombies had untangled themselves from the pile and was making a painful crawl towards the stairs. They would take a while to get themselves upright and shamble after him. He had a few seconds to think, time to find somewhere defendable and work out a strategy.

He looked around the stairwell desperately trying to recall when last he was here. Did he remember the layout? Was there another exit? The noise from the dead driving into the building flustered him. He couldn’t think. But he had to act.

Hands supporting his weight on the banisters, he eased his injured leg onto the floor. Careful to test the pain, he straightened his foot out and planted it on the first sodden carpet tile. A whip of pain shot up from the wound. Ali winced against it but kept his balance. With slow, wary footsteps to avoid slipping in the slimy carpet, he made his way to the first door. The hallway smelt damp and rotten; the crumbling plasterboard walls, the decaying household fabrics all mixed with the unmistakable stench of decomposing flesh.

Ali tried to listen for the sounds of a trapped zombie up ahead, but the moans from the horde downstairs drowned everything out.

The door ahead of him was slightly ajar with a strong shaft of golden yellow sunlight visible on the wall inside. Tentatively Ali pushed at the door. It didn’t budge. The wooden frame had warped from the water damage and sat snugly in its jamb. Ali pushed harder and when that didn’t work he took a step back and charged.

With a screech the distorted door reluctantly swung open a few degrees. Ali wedged his good leg into the opening and levered his body against the door, and with a series of short shoves he managed to push the door far enough to squeeze in.

The apartments hallway led off ahead for a few metres. The wooden flooring was strewn with the former owner’s possessions, a woman’s blouse, a black kitten heeled shoe, a hairdryer, its red plastic case cracked open exposing the hard mechanical innards, and a dozen other innocuous remnants. The dank smell was stronger here.

Ali resisted the natural urge to call out, “anyone home?” as he inched forward.

The corridor lead into what looked like a dining/living room from Ali’s narrow view. Between here and there were three closed doors. He decided to ignore the closed doors and check out the living room. He stalked through the debris, trying in vain to stay quiet when every footfall made the warped wooden floor groan.