The Last Handful of Clover - Book 3: The Stone in the Stream

3.41 Zombies

June 16, 2:50 pm

Pil knew they could not be the only ones still alive in the tunnel. But in the moments after the weight of all the bodies had finished piling upon them, everything seemed strangely still. The gunfire ended after no more than a minute, receding quickly down the street. And then the tunnel was filled with a ghastly smell that was part unwashed bodies, part blood, and part (he had to face it) the evacuated bowels and bladders of the dead and dying. In a matter of less than a minute, he and Keith had gone from the bright sunlight above to a nightmare tomb full of darkness and death.

Underneath the pile of bodies, Pil and Keith held each other and waited. And as they waited, the air became thicker with the moans and thrashings of the dying. Soon the blood was running over them as if it was being wrung out of a hundred sponges over their heads, dripping and flowing and running down their bodies, thick and warm and stinking of fear and despair. It got into their ears and eyes. They spat it out of their mouths. It dripped off their noses onto the concrete floor below them, where it pooled and thickened.

The weight of perhaps a half dozen bodies bore down upon Pil's back, and he was doing his best to protect Keith from the pressure. Fortunately, as they fell, they had ended up against the far right edge of the passageway, and by bracing himself against it he had prevented Keith from being crushed. He could feel his friend panting underneath him, pressing his face into Pil's neck to avoid the worst of the blood. He realized that he still had his tire iron, and he quickly wedged it between the floor and wall, creating a small breathing space into which both he and Keith pressed their faces hungrily. Above, the weight of the dead and the dying was hard to bear, but slowly, the pile of bodies was shifting, as those who were still alive climbed further into the dark tunnel, or up toward the light.

The passageway was filling with sounds. With the departure of the shooters, the wounded and dying were no longer trying to stifle their cries and their moans. They echoed throughout the dank corridor, which made it sound all the more horrifying and ghostly.

Pil didn't wait. With a tremendous groan he used the bunched muscles of his arms and back to push up against the weight that was above them. And ever so slightly, the bodies shifted and moved. He kept his grip on the tire iron, and used it to lever a mangled woman's shattered torso off of his arm, and she cried out as he pushed her aside. In the darkness, Pil could not tell if her wounds were minor or fatal. And at that moment, he couldn't allow himself to care. Only one thing mattered now, and that was getting himself and Keith out of this death trap.

He stuffed the tire iron under his belt on his right side, and then, reaching down, he grasped Keith by the collar of his shirt and heaved. The blood-soaked cloth first ripped in his hands, but then held. Keith's burned arms dragged heavily against the other bodies as Pil pulled, and his friend let out a scream of agony that he quickly stifled. They were both almost free now, and as they made their way to the surface, dead and dying bodies fell back into the space they were vacating. Twice he lost his grip on Keith's shirt, and it was only then that Pil realized they were not just splattered with blood, but bathed in it. If they got out of this tunnel, they would look worse than the most mangled of Drouillard's angels.

Pil had to step squarely in the chest of one body in order to pull Keith the rest of the way to the surface, and as he pressed, he heard the body below him exhale a gurgling breath. But that was the last leverage he needed, and Pil fell backward with Keith on top of his chest, and lay there panting, holding the smaller man as they both gasped for air. The tire iron dug viciously into his back, but that was the least of his worries.

Thankfully, there was light visible at the south end of the tunnel, and Pil paused for just a moment to be sure that the gunfire had really stopped.

"Keith, can you hear me?" Pil asked over the sound of the dying.