Jack Lewis - Fear the Dead - A Zombie Apocalypse Book

There were rows upon rows of shelves, but most of them were empty. Of those that did have food, most of it was thick with what looked like hair, but I soon saw that it was mold. Apparently there had once been a fresh produce section, but now it had rotted so badly that it resembled a mossy tumour. On the other rows there were a few cans scattered here and there, but most of the shelves held only dust. My heart sank.

“Could be more at the back. It’s a big place,” said Justin, trying to reassure me.

Something was wrong here. All my nerve endings were on edge, and all of them were firing a message up to my brain that translate as ‘GET OUT’. Maybe the sign on the front of the building had been right; perhaps it was best to just go away. But who had written it? Who had taken all the food? Whatever had happened, we were going to have to explore more before giving up.

The warehouse seemed to stretch far back, endless rows of metal shelves that were as long as a bus and reached up to the ceiling. I couldn’t see the back of the room, because the further back the warehouse stretched, the darker it got. I guessed if I walked to the end I would find the delivery doors.

With so little natural light coming in from the windows and the complete failure of the electrical ones, the place was a dark abyss.

Justin took a step forward. I put my hand on his shoulder. “Remember what I said; you’re not Indiana Jones. “

“Who’s Indiana Jones?” he said.

“Just don’t go running off. I don’t trust this place.”

The sound of every step we took echoed off the floor and drifted up toward the ceiling. It was like walking in a cave. As we walked past the rows of empty shelves Justin ran his finger along one of them, disturbing the dust.

“Stop that.”

The further into the warehouse we went the dimmer it became, and we had to stop to let our eyes adjust. It was an eerie place; so black, and so still. I felt the hairs on my arms stand on end, and my eyes started to see things in the shadows. Part of me wished we hadn’t taken this route; surely the threat of emotional pain couldn’t have been as nerve racking as worrying about what lurked in the shadows? Should we have just gotten a car?

“Kyle, look,” Justin whispered.

I followed his outstretched hand and when I saw where it led, my breath caught in my chest. Wedged between two shelves was a small tent, and inside it was the faint shape of a person.

My pulse started to quicken. Someone was definitely in there, and from the outline of their shape, they were sitting up. That meant that they were aware of us.

So why weren’t they moving?

I reached for my knife. Whoever it was, whatever their problem was, I wasn’t taking any chances. Nor was I leaving here with nothing. They would have to be dealt with right now. I took a step toward the tent and crouched at the entrance. I flicked my hand in the air and beckoned Justin over to me.

He moved hesitantly, and his steps were quieter than usual. Maybe he was finally getting the hang of this.

“You pull the zipper,” I said.

He looked at me and swallowed.

“I’m right here,” I said, and held my knife in the air ready to strike.

The darkness of the warehouse seemed heavy now. The utter silence was so thick that it was like another presence in itself. It could be our ally or our enemy, I knew. Silence helped you hear what was there, but it could also betray your own footsteps.

Justin grabbed the zipper. I could see his hands shaking, and I felt my own heart hammer. I took a deep breath and tensed my arm. Whoever came out of that tent, whatever their state, I wouldn’t give them chance to strike.

He slowly moved his hand. The sound of the zipper moving was louder than it should have been, and out of instinct I looked around me as if someone were listening. Justin stopped, and looked at me. I nodded for him to carry on. He moved the zipper all the way to the top, and the tent door flapped open.

I thought whatever was in there would come charging out, but for some reason it didn’t move. I waited, my bicep tensed, my hand wrapped tightly around the knife, but there was nothing. I was going to have to get in the tent.

I got Justin’s attention and pointed at his belt. By now he was beginning to understand my unspoken commands better, and he reached down and took hold of his knife. He held at shoulder height, his arm stiff. I pointed at him, then at my eyes and then at the tent. He nodded.

Taking a deep breath and holding it in my lungs, I got to my knees. I could feel my body start to shake, so I tensed my muscles. I started to crawl slowly into the tent. Adrenaline shot through my body, and my veins throbbed. I felt panic rise up in me, and I tried to bury it deep inside me, tried to keep arm ready to send my knife plunging into whatever was in the tent.

It was for nothing.

There was nothing in there but a pile of cardboard boxes. I let out a breath and almost smiled at my idiocy.

Behind me, there was a moan. Justin screamed out, and I had just enough time to see something move out of the shadows and toward him before he fell into the tent, sending the fabric crumbling around me.

“Justin!” I shouted.

I hunted for the entrance. On top of the now-collapsed tent Justin wrestled with the thing. From the snarls it made it must have been an infected, and both it and Justin were so heavy that they weighed down the fabric of the tent on top of me.

Taking care not to accidentally hit Justin, I swung my knife and sliced through the tent, cutting an opening big enough for me to escape through. When I was out, I saw that he was led on the ground, and his hands were wrapped tightly round the throat of an infected. His arm muscles were straining with the effort. The monster struggled against him, snapping its teeth so close to Justin’s eyes that it nearly took off his eyelashes.

I took a step forward and grabbed the infected by the hair, but the scraggly strands tore from its skull too easily and sent the infected’s face closer to Justin.

“Hold it up,” I said.

The infected snarled and gnashed its teeth. Justin let out a grunt, and with all his strength he held the infected’s head toward me. I gave one short, strong stab with my knife and pierced its skull, sending the metal deep into its brain.

I took a deep breath and let my heartbeat settle.

“You can put it down now,” I said.

Justin let the infected’s body drop to one side. His eyes were wide with shock and he was panting.

“Deep breaths kid,” I said.

I looked around me. I couldn’t see any more of them, nor could I hear the tell-tale moans that said they were near. That didn’t mean we were alone, though. I looked up at the shelf next to me, and suddenly my eyes were as wide as Justin’s.

“Think we got lucky,” I said.

Justin followed my gaze and saw what I was looking at. The shelf next to the tent was empty, all save one row at the top, on which were several boxes full of tins. I couldn’t see what they were and I didn’t care; they could be tinned fruit, beans, chili or spaghetti, it didn’t matter. It was food, that’s all we needed. That would be enough.

“Okay monkey boy, time to climb again.”

Justin put his hand on the shelf and shakily pulled himself up. I put my hand on his shoulder. “Think you can do this?” I said.

He nodded. His breaths were steadying and his eyes came into focus.

“Good. I’ll let a little light in here,” I said. I didn’t want him climbing twenty feet up the shelf in the dark, because the last thing we needed was him falling and breaking his leg.

I walked past a row of shelves and to the back of the warehouse. There were two enormous metal shutters, which as I suspected, were used for trucks when they made deliveries. If I could open them and let a little light in, it might just give enough visibility to let Justin to climb safely to the top of the shelf. Then we would get the hell out of here.