The Left Series (Book 3): Left On The Brink Page 15

  I leaned back over the balustrade and saw the other three emerging from the darkness. “Come on, you guys, hurry it up. I think we’re going to have some company real soon,” I hissed.

  Smith mumbled something I didn’t catch but all three of them quickened their pace. We started down the opposite staircase with Smith leading this time.

  “We need to keep out of sight of those things, otherwise we’re going to be trapped down there,” Johnson said.

  “Too true,” I muttered, wondering how we were going to get out of the building when and if we got the fuel pumps going.

  At the foot of the staircase, the area opened out into a corridor with several doors on each side, leading off to God knew where. We stopped and looked up and down the passageway.

  “Which way now, Smith?” I asked.

  Smith handed me his M-16, took out the map and unfolded it. He shone the flashlight over the document, deep in thought.

  “It looks like this whole area is the power source of the whole place. The generators should be located in a room at the end of this passage.” He pointed further down the corridor.

  Smith took back his rifle and shone the flashlight down the corridor. The concrete ground was painted gray and the block walls were whitewashed. A few notice boards, with health and safety flyers pinned to them, hung on the walls between the doors.

  We moved deeper into the passageway, following Smith but I stopped when I heard a clanking sound from behind one of the doors to our right. Johnson bumped into me from behind.

  “What was that?” I hissed.

  “I didn’t hear nothing. You’re just getting spooked,” Johnson grumbled.

  “No, I definitely heard something or somebody behind one of those doors,” I insisted. “I’m not playing games, something made a sound.”

  Johnson sighed. “There’s nothing down here, man. Look, I’ll show you.” He pushed open the door immediately to our right.

  A dark shape lurched from the room beyond and wrapped itself around Johnson. That was when all hell broke loose.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Johnson screamed and more shadowy figures emerged from the doorway. I heard snarls and snorts coming from the looming figures. It didn’t take a genius to work out these figures were zombies, and they were on the attack with the smell of fresh blood in their nostrils. Cordoba shrieked behind me.

  “What the fuck is going on?” Smith yelled, spinning around and shining the flashlight back in our direction.

  I caught a glimpse of a set of gnashing teeth and a blood encrusted white face in front of me. I batted the face with the M-16 muzzle and felt the metal hit flesh and bone. Johnson went down and was immediately pounced on by several figures. Somebody fired their weapon and orange muzzle flash briefly lit the corridor. I saw Smith’s flashlight rolling along the floor, illuminating the scuffling feet of either zombies or living humans.

  I held my M-16 in a horizontal position across my chest to stop a ghoul from biting at my throat. The stench of rotting flesh and old diseased blood attacked my senses as I grappled with the attacking zombie. I wasn’t sure if Smith, Johnson and Cordoba were still alive or still with me in that corridor.

  I pushed the rifle away from me as hard as I could, sending my assailant back into the darkness. I fell back against a door, which pushed open under my weight. I stumbled through the doorway into pitch darkness. The door swung closed on a spring and I heard the snaffling and snarling of the zombies outside the room. They obviously hadn’t realized I’d exited the corridor otherwise they would have followed me. The sound of Johnson’s screams made me wince. I didn’t know whether to go back out there and help or stay put.

  The earsplitting sound of more gunfire caused me to drop to the floor. Bullets ripped through the wooden door frame above my head. I crawled further into the room, gripping the rifle tightly as I moved. I hit something hard and metallic head first and felt the shape with my hand. The object was some sort of large piece of machinery, maybe a generator or a control panel. I crawled alongside the bulky, square object and moved behind it so I was hidden from the doorway.

  I leaned my back against the machinery panel, breathing heavily and feeling myself for bites in the dark. I didn’t know who was dead and who was alive. Johnson was pretty much a goner as far as I was concerned. The last I saw of him, he was on the ground with at least three zombies ripping into him. Cordoba was probably the one doing the firing. She seemed a trigger happy type. I didn’t know about Smith. Maybe he’d been hit by a stray bullet, that’s why he’d dropped the flashlight. The whole situation had rapidly turned to rat shit.

  I held my breath when I heard the door creak. A rush of cold air indicated somebody had opened the door. I listened intently, breathing slowly through my nose. Hopefully, it was Smith or Cordoba looking for me with a pile of dead zombies in the corridor behind them. I heard a footfall scuffing across the concrete floor, then another, slow and plodding.

  The noise of the door banging shut echoed through the dark room. I heard a groan, deep and low. Then the footsteps started again, slowly clumping in my direction. I gripped the M-16 and desperately tried to remember how to use it. Did the weapon have a safety catch and if so was it on or off? I couldn’t remember and couldn’t see to check. My mind had turned to a blank mush.

  The footsteps came closer and I’d have to do something or I’d be zombie food. I hoped there weren’t more of them shuffling around the room in the darkness. The footfalls stopped and I held my breath, not daring to make a sound.

  After what seemed like an eternity, whoever was in the room with me started to walk slowly back to the doorway. The sound of the footfalls receded and the zombie had obviously given up the search. I breathed out silently when I heard the door creak open.

  I’d sit tight for a few minutes and decide what I was going to do.

  Before I could make any firm plans, my radio crackled with static and a voice boomed from the speaker.

  “Can anybody hear me?” The voice crackled loudly, echoing around the room. It wasn’t Chief Cole but I didn’t care who it was at that moment. They had given away my hiding place.

  “Shit!” I hissed. The headset must have become detached from the radio handset during my melee in the corridor.

  The door banged closed and the footfalls approached more rapidly this time. I slid up the control panel so I was in a crouched, standing position with my feet wide apart. I gripped the M-16 barrel, ready to swing the butt like a club at my pursuer. I steadied myself and gritted my teeth, trying to make out any moving shapes in the darkness.

  Muffled gunfire sounded again from somewhere along the corridor, which meant at least one of my party was still alive. The radio squawked again and the voice was clearer this time.

  “This is Milner, can anybody hear me?”

  I could hear him all right but I wasn’t able to respond to his message. Something caught my eye, moving in the darkness. A silhouetted figure slowly came level with the side of the control panel. Whoever it was wore the remains of a ripped white shirt, slightly visible in the gloom. I swung the M-16 as hard as I could and caught the ghoul in the face with the butt. I heard an audible crack as hardened plastic met bone and the figure in the white shirt dropped to the ground. I hoped I hadn’t broken the rifle but it was better than trying to operate the weapon in the dark.

  I didn’t know if the blow had connected hard enough to kill the zombie but I wasn’t going to remain alone in that room any longer. There were no visible alternative escape routes other than the door to the front of the room. I slid out from behind the control panel, giving the white shirted zombie a wide berth. The creature still lay on the ground, unmoving as far as I could tell. I held the M-16 out in front of me and slowly made my way through the darkness towards, where I thought the door was situated. The rifle barrel tip scraped on the wall, I felt the flat, rough surface with my hand then leaned my back against it. I slid along the wall, feeling for the door frame.

  I hear
d snarling, snaffling noises coming from the opposite side of the wall. My hand touched the door frame trunking and I stood still, listening for any signs of life from Smith or Cordoba. Johnson was silent now. He was either dead or the others had pulled him away to safety someplace.

  The radio crackled once more and Milner’s voice boomed out. “Chief Cole, this is Milner. Anybody read me?”

  I had to either contact him to call reinforcements or fight my own way out of the situation. I felt around my chest, where the radio handset was clipped onto the cold weather jacket. I found the talk button and pressed it in.

  “Milner? It’s me, Wilde,” I hissed into the radio. “Where the hell are you, man?”

  I leaned with my back pressed firmly against the door to block any zombies who heard the radio communications from the corridor outside.

  “Wilde, what are you doing in here? Anyhow, we’re down in the bowels of the airport terminal someplace. We got attacked and our party got scattered and at least two are dead. We’ve got no comms with the C-17 and haven’t heard from them for a while.”

  “I know, we lost all communications,” I replied. “Four of us came in after you but I’ve lost the others and I’m trapped in some damn maintenance control room, with zombies all around me in the corridor.”

  “I don’t know where we are in relation to you location, Wilde,” Milner said, with a hint of resignation recognizable in his tone. “We’re holed up down in some kind of motor pool area and there’s zombies all over the damn place.”

  His situation sounded similar to mine. I didn’t have a clue what to do next and cried out in fear when I felt the door being pushed from the opposite side.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  I shoved backwards with all my strength, trying to prevent the door from opening. I heard groans and growls coming from the other side of the thin, wooden access point. My feet began to slide away from the door frame with the motion of the shoving on the door behind me. I bumped my ass back against the frame but the sheer weight from beyond was forcing the door open.

  A humming sound suddenly became audible from above me and the lights inside the room flickered on. Now what the hell was happening? The small room was some sort of control room with rectangular shaped, metallic, gray colored machinery panels spread around the floor space.

  The light seemed to arouse the white shirted zombie and he started twitching while still on the ground. I had to use the weapon in my hands but I was still desperately trying to keep the door closed behind me. The male zombie in the white shirt rolled onto his front and his milky eyes seemed to focus on me. The face was covered in discolored, dark blood and half the left cheek had been bitten or torn away. The creature let out a throaty moan and began crawling across the floor towards me.

  I felt the side of the rifle for a safety catch, the crawling ghoul was around ten feet away and drawing closer. The zombies on the other side of the door banged and pushed with renewed vigor under the restored lighting.

  My radio crackled then a voice came across the handset. “Is that you on the other side of the door, Wilde?”

  “Yeah, it is,” I screamed into the handset. “I could sure use some help in here.”

  “Move away from the door,” the voice commanded.

  I dived to my right and rolled across the floor towards the corner of the room. The door burst open and two zombies stumbled into the room. A fraction of a second later, a hail of gunfire caused their heads to explode into a spray of blood and brain matter, before their bodies dropped to the ground.

  Smith stepped into the room with his M-16 raised to his shoulder and popped three rounds into the white shirted zombie’s head. The stench of stale blood and cordite filled the small control room. I breathed a relieved sigh and saw Cordoba standing behind Smith, holding the door open with her foot.

  “I’m glad to see you made it,” I rasped, trying to stand on shaky legs.

  Smith shot me a brief glance. “We found the generator room by accident. When Johnson let those fuckers out that room, I couldn’t see what the hell was going on.”

  “I know, I saw the flashlight fall on the ground,” I said.

  “Good job I picked it up and got out the way of whoever was firing,” Cordoba said with a sarcastic smile.

  “Yeah,” Smith sighed. “Me and Calamity Jane, here made up our differences and moved out of the line of fire and found the generator room around the corner. We’ve got one of them going, which obviously powers this place but the fuel pumps are a whole different ball game.”

  “Who was doing the shooting, then?” I asked. “It wasn’t me. I haven’t fired this weapon since we’ve been in the airport.”

  Smith and Cordoba exchanged a glance.

  “It must have been Johnson,” Cordoba sighed.

  “What happened to Johnson?” I asked.

  Smith shook his head. “He didn’t make it. In fact, his remains are still out here in the corridor.”

  “I heard Milner on the radio,” I said. “He’s trapped in some motor pool area.”

  “We heard,” Cordoba said. “That’s how we knew where you where, we heard the radio messages echoing around the corridor.”

  I looked down and saw the headset cable dangling loose around my shoulder. I plugged it back into the handset and tried Milner again.

  “The lights have just come back on in here,” Milner shouted into my ear.

  Smith slung his rifle over his shoulder and took out the map. He studied the layout while Cordoba kept a watch on the corridor.

  “The motor pool is located on the far side of this level,” Smith explained. “We’ll have to try and get to Milner and see if he’s still got any engineers with him. We’ll need someone who knows what they’re doing to get those fuel pumps going.”

  I tried Milner on the radio again. “We’re coming to find you, Milner.”

  “Milner? It’s Smith. Stay in your current location and we’ll come and get you. We have a map and I’ve pinpointed your location. How many left in your crew?”

  “There are six of us down here,” Milner responded. “We’ve had two casualties we know of and the other four are MIA.”

  “Any maintenance guys with you? We’re going to need a specialist to look at those fuel pumps. I’ve got one of the power generators going as you can tell by the lighting, but these fuel pumps need more detailed attention.”

  “Yeah, there’s still some of the aircrew left with me but we’re surrounded by zombies, Smith. The lights don’t help us much. They can see us now.”

  “Okay, Milner. We’re on our way.” Smith gestured towards the door. “Come on, guys, let’s go.”

  I followed him and Cordoba out of the small control room and was glad to see the back of that claustrophobic, confined space. Johnson’s corpse lay on his back on the ground in the corridor. His eyes remained open and two dead zombies, with bullet holes in their heads lay across his body. Johnson’s throat was ripped and torn in several places and an expression of sheer terror remained frozen on his face. The whole area was a mess of blood and gore.

  I stepped over the prone bodies, following Smith and Cordoba down a separate passageway. Smith held the map in one hand and his rifle in the other, glancing down at the document every few seconds. We couldn’t afford to become lost; we’d been too long inside the building already.

  We followed the route back to the bottom of the staircase then turned down another corridor, situated to the right of some service elevators. The whitewashed passageways all looked the same and it was impossible to distinguish each direction from the other. Unless you knew the area, or had a map, you’d struggle to find a favorable route amongst the maze of passageways.

  At least ten minutes ticked by as we turned left and right along seemingly endless corridors. We eventually arrived at a set of blue colored, double swing doors with circular windows situated at head height. A cold draft gusted through the narrow gaps at the bottom of the doors and I caught the smell of gas and motor oil.

>   “Is this it?” I asked.

  Smith nodded and tried to peer through the grimy, circular windows. “Be careful and keep your wits about you. Remember Milner said this place was crawling with undead motherfuckers.”

  “Got it,” I muttered. I wouldn’t be able to relax until we were back aboard that C-17 aircraft and up in the air again.

  Smith refolded the map and put it away in his jacket. “Milner, we’re at your location and we’re entering the motor pool,” he said into his headset.

  “Approach with caution, Smith,” Milner’s replied. “There are more of these things turning up every minute. We’ve got quite a crowd down here.”

  “Great!” I sighed as Smith pushed through the double doors. “What the hell are we getting ourselves into this time?”

  Chapter Thirty

  Smith, Cordoba and I trod slowly and cautiously down a concrete slope on the opposite side of the double doors. The air became considerably cooler and felt as though we were outdoors. The ramp declined down a wide corridor, a stationary forklift truck stood next to some metal freight containers to our right. A tall, entranceway, covered with strips of transparent vinyl sat in the wall on the right side at the bottom of the corridor.

  I heard the sounds of moans and wails from many different voices the further we approached the entryway. Our pace slowed and I felt the rising sensation of fear. We moved towards the entrance and kept close to the adjacent wall. Smith raised his hand for us to stop and peered around the frame. He moved his head to take a look through the vinyl strips then turned back with an expression of concern on his face.

  “What?” I whispered, fearing the worst.

  “Milner was right. There’s a shit load of them in there.”

  I felt a sinking sensation in the pit of my stomach. Cordoba and I took a turn at having a quick look around the entranceway. Around one hundred zombies milled around a concrete floor space, which resembled and was roughly the size of an aircraft hangar. Halogen bulbs fixed amongst the high roof shone across dozens of vehicles of all shapes and sizes, parked up in neat rows around the edges of the floor space.