Disintegration

the road, barking. Hollis ran over and tried to shut her up. “What’s the matter with you, girl? All this noise freaking you out?”
    There were bodies coming up the track. From where he was standing Hollis could see at least four, but he knew that many more would probably be following close behind. The dog hurtled forward again, jumping up at the first cadaver and knocking it flat onto its back. It stood with its front legs on the creature’s torso, pinning it down, biting and tearing at its clothing with its vicious teeth. The body on the ground—unable to understand what was happening to it—attempted clumsily to push the animal away but it was too strong and determined. Four other corpses wearily dragged themselves past the frantic melee near their feet and stumbled on regardless.
    “Bodies!” Hollis yelled, immediately running back into the building to find a weapon. He met Gordon and Lorna coming the other way, already alerted by the barking of the dog.
    “Many?” Lorna asked as they passed on either side of the reception desk.
    “Enough,” Hollis replied, grabbing a fire ax and turning back again. He glanced up to see Howard disappearing upstairs. Fucking coward, he thought.
    By the time he’d made it back into the car park Lorna was already poised to batter the closest body with a machete. The corpse—the lopsided, rancid husk of a fourteen-year-old schoolgirl—advanced toward her imperiously. Gripping the machete tight she swung it upwards and grunted with effort and satisfaction as it connected with the underside of the creature’s chin and sliced through its diseased face. A second strike and its head exploded like a watermelon, showering the ground and the other corpses nearby with blood.
    Gordon sprinted forward with screwdrivers held high in either hand, all talk of dodgy hips and excuses now long forgotten. With a yell of savage, guttural rage he launched himself at the dead shell of a jogger, still dressed in full running kit. He plunged the screwdrivers into the creature’s temples, feeling them hit each other as they crossed in the middle of what was left of its brain, then yanked them free, wiping them on the back of his trousers and moving straight on to the next kill, narrowly missing Hollis, who had just swung his ax up into the groin of a hideously decayed vicar.
    *   *   *
     
    Howard came pounding back down the stairs, looking for the others. He struggled to catch his breath and tell them what he’d seen. Caron, Ginnie and Martin waited anxiously at the bottom of the staircase.
    “It’s not that bad,” he began.
    “Not that bad!” Martin pointed outside. “There are bodies out there! How can it not be that bad?”
    “Shut up, Martin,” Howard gasped, leaning up against the wall. “Jas and the others have gone into the field through the gate we blocked with the car,” he continued, gesturing back over his shoulder. “They’ve left it open so they can get out again.”
    “But they’re letting them through!”
    “Not that many,” he answered quickly, still panting. “Believe me, there’s enough going on out in that field to keep most of them occupied. I only saw about twenty of them on the road, thirty at the most.”
    “Thirty!” Martin screamed. “There are only six of us left here now!”
    “It’ll be fine,” Caron assured him, the skinful of wine she’d had filling her with false confidence. She put her hand on his shoulder. He recoiled and pulled away. “Thirty is nothing,” she continued, unperturbed. “Believe me, I’ve seen Greg deal with more than that on his own before now.”
    *   *   *
     
    The carnage continued outside. Fighting close alongside each other Hollis, Gordon and Lorna had managed to inch slowly down the track. The ground was now littered with blood-soaked carcasses and dismembered bodies, some still twitching, and the dead were being pushed back. Hollis prayed that they could keep this progress up without being seen or heard by too many more cadavers. This number he could deal with, but he’d seen just how many more of them were amassed on the golf course less than a quarter of a mile from where they now stood fighting. It wouldn’t take much to open the floodgates and bring thousands of them trudging back here.
    Howard jogged down from the hotel, meat cleaver in hand. He stopped short of the others, reached down, and pulled his dog away from the corpse it continued to attack. Although ferocious, all she was