Patrick D'Orazio - Coming the Dark

“That’s it, you bastards! Come and get me!”

He had to yell to hear himself over the pounding fists and squeals of anticipation. The moans were louder inside. But when Jeff spoke, they seemed to go still, and the noise died down for a moment. He had their complete attention.

He continued to back up the stairs as more bodies crammed into the foyer and spread into the dining and living rooms. He wouldn’t be surprised if there were enough of them to fill the entire first floor. One knocked over the vase on the end table near the door, and it instantly turned to powdered shards underfoot. A few of the ghoulish apparitions appeared to be distracted, wandering toward the dining room table and grabbing at household objects like they were at a rummage sale. The rest, however, continued to crowd around the base of the staircase, staring balefully up at him. They raised their hands, reaching toward Jeff with unimaginable need.

The weaker ones were crushed beneath the churning mass of bodies as they poured over the couch. It looked like some sort of blender in which whatever was dropped into the spinning vortex was sucked to the bottom to be pulverized, but in this case, it was only the smaller forms, children and the mutilated, being sucked beneath the trampling feet.

The first stiff form able to make it past the couch got a shot in the mouth from Jeff’s baseball bat. It was a world-class uppercut that shattered the woman’s jawbone and sent her reeling back into the crowd. She knocked another person flat, and Jeff lost sight of her as she was swallowed into the pulsating mass of bodies. Heedless of her demise, the others pressed against the couch. As three more bodies flopped over it Jeff rushed to the second-floor landing.

With hands shaking and breathing ragged, he pushed the massive bookshelf that stood next to the staircase toward the top step. He had dragged it there a few weeks back as a precautionary measure in case the infected managed to break into the house. In hindsight, it had been foolish to hope that mere furniture could hold back the horde, but he was still glad he had moved it into position.

Jeff felt a white-hot flash of fear at the sound of a loud grunt nearby. The infected were almost to the top of the steps. He responded with his own desperate grunt as the bookshelf teetered over and began its sideways fall down the steps.

The loud crash he had expected was muffled by the wall of flesh on which the heavy cherry bookshelf landed. It smashed into the two leaders of the pack, driving them back into the convulsing crowd. As he watched, Jeff’s eyes widened in surprise. The large, six-foot-tall piece of furniture did not fall to the ground as he had anticipated, but hovered as the monsters behind it struggled to free themselves of its bulk.

The bodies were piling up behind the bookshelf, and he could see it slowly turning like a heavy door being pushed toward the wall. It had smashed a few of them pretty well but was no deterrent to the rest. They were still coming.

As Jeff turned and ran for the master bedroom, he heard a thud. The bookshelf had finally hit the floor. They had pushed it out of the way and were on the move again.

He screamed a few expletives as encouragement, though none was needed, before slamming the hollow door to his bedroom shut and clicking the button-lock on the knob. As Jeff moved toward his closet, he could hear his former neighbors screaming in frustration from down the hall.

He climbed past the heavy chair he had placed in the closet, then shoved it, forcing the door shut with its bulk. The large walk-in closet went pitch black, and he nearly yelped when the first fist slammed into the bedroom door.

The darkness felt overwhelming, but Jeff knew how little time he had. He felt his way past a minefield of shoes and piles of clothing strewn on the floor. When he found the back wall, he dropped quickly to his knees, setting the baseball bat down as he slid his hands over the carpeted floor. Where is it?

He jumped again as the master bedroom door splintered and broke. The mob was already forcing its way past the shattered remains of the feeble barrier and clambering into the bedroom. They would be at the closet door in less than a minute, but that was all the time Jeff thought he needed, if he could find what he was looking for.

Cursing under his breath, he began tossing shoes out of the way. He knew the spot on the floor was not covered, but could feel panic setting in as he continued his furious search.

Boom!

Jeff let out an involuntary yelp of surprise as the closet door vibrated in its frame. There were excited moans beyond the door, as if his neighbors knew he was caught like a rat in a trap. It would be mere seconds before he was in their grasp.

“How in the world did you know I was in here, you stupid bastards?” Jeff screamed. His words echoed in the confined space and filtered out into the bedroom, where squeals of delight at the sound of his voice cascaded back in on him.

He heard the chair move slightly across the carpet, inching backwards as the press of bodies crammed against the door began forcing their way in. “I mean, Jesus! You fuckers can’t even turn a goddamn doorknob anymore, but you can sniff me out in a matter of seconds? What the hell?” Jeff’s voice cracked, his frayed nerves nearly past the point of no return as he clawed blindly at the carpet.

The chair slid another few inches inward, and with it came a splinter of light from the bedroom. Immediately, Jeff saw what he had been searching for, a few inches to his right. He whimpered in relief as he pulled the hinged door in the floor open.

He’d built the clothing chute shortly after they had moved in, when Ellen realized the laundry room was directly below their closet. It made the transfer of dirty clothes a breeze.

He stared down at the washer and dryer. Breathing a quick sigh of relief when he saw that no one had wandered into the small room off the garage, he swung his legs over and down through the hole.

As Jeff lowered himself through the narrow opening, his unwanted visitors managed to push the chair completely out of the way of the closet door. The first shadowy figure stumbled into the room, falling inward, pushed by another four stiffs behind it. Jeff snatched up his baseball bat as he contorted his hips in an effort to maneuver his midsection through the tight gap in the floor.

His neighbors turned as one toward him, their eyes going wide with excitement as they saw the man trapped in the corner. Their potent smell curdled his stomach. It was like a landfill, stockyard, and mass grave all wrapped up in one. As they reached for him, Jeff screamed and felt something give. The edges of the laundry chute scraped his sides, but as he landed on top of the washing machine, he heard the spring-loaded door on the chute slam shut above his head.

He slid off the washer. There were cries of outrage from above. They were already scraping at the small door, desperate to open it.

The sounds on the first floor were nearly deafening as he stared at the kitchen door. Beyond were those inhuman things…probably more than a hundred. Jeff hoped they were still occupied with their attempts to climb the steps and cram themselves into the various bedrooms on the top floor in a futile effort to find him.

He grabbed the gas can he had left in the room and opened it. The smell of the fuel was pure and intoxicating compared to the noxiously rich smell of death now permeating the house. He splashed the flammable liquid on the walls, watching as it ate at the traces of blood the first set of intruders had left behind. He drained the can, splashing the last bit of it on the ceiling, specifically targeting the hinged door above the washer.

The chute door opened slightly and then slapped back shut. A dark smile crossed Jeff’s lips. He had put a set of tight springs on the sucker to discourage his kids from playing with it. The clumsy bastards upstairs were having a hell of a time trying to get a grip on it, thanks to his handiwork.