Disintegration

back. Keeping a tight grip on its neck, she dropped down onto its exposed rib cage, feeling bones crack and rotten flesh slide beneath her leather-clad knees. With her gloved left hand she grabbed hold of the corpse’s chin and shoved its face over to the side before smacking the hammer down onto its temple, causing enough damage to its putrefying brain to immediately and permanently incapacitate it.
    Still more of the hellish things dragged themselves out of the darkness and into the open, drawn out of hiding by the noise. In the time that Harte and Lorna had taken to deal with one body each, both Jas and Hollis had disposed of several more. The two men were now stepping cautiously through the bloody carnage, dragging the dismembered remains of their kills out of the way and dumping them against the back fence. Hollis was watching Stokes struggling with his obese victim when he was distracted by a sudden yelp of surprise from Webb.
    “What’s the problem?” Hollis yelled. The idiot had managed to get himself backed into a corner by two of them. He swung his baseball bat wildly but wasn’t making contact. It was almost as if they were keeping their distance.
    “Nothing,” he shouted back breathlessly. “I’m all right.”
    “We don’t have time for this,” Jas said angrily as he marched across the loading bay and grabbed hold of one of the bodies by its shoulder, dragging it over. It kicked and flailed on the ground furiously. Without a flicker of emotion he raised his machete and chopped down just above the creature’s vacant eyes, hitting it with such force that the blade sliced right through the skull, taking the top of its head off. Taking advantage of the distraction, Webb angrily shoved the remaining corpse against the fence. He stepped back and swung his bat around, burying it in its face.
    “I said I was all right,” he said as he yanked the bat free and let the body drop to the ground.
    “You two finished?” asked Lorna. Jas looked around and saw that the only person still fighting was Stokes, struggling with the massive corpse by the entrance door. The body’s arms and legs continued to move wildly, and Stokes was still shredding its grossly oversized torso with his shovel. Much of the surrounding area, and his own legs, had been drenched with a layer of dark brown blood and slime.
    “You fucking idiot,” Webb spat as he stormed past Stokes. He stamped down hard on the face of the hideous aberration, crushing its features under his boot. It immediately lay still.
    Jas was waiting at the door into the building, peering inside and banging his fist on a metal storage cabinet. The noise rang through the entire building, echoing around the loading bay and surrounding area outside.
    “Any more of them?” asked Hollis, standing just behind him and peering over his shoulder.
    “Probably. Bound to be a few of them stuck in there.”
    Hollis pushed past and disappeared inside, struggling to see anything in the suddenly low light. The others followed, matching his every move as he weaved along a gloomy passageway, pushing open doors which had remained closed for more than six weeks. More through luck than judgment they soon entered the main section of the warehouse. Grimy skylights let in just enough light to illuminate most of the vast space. They were immediately aware of movement around them again, but such was the size of the shop floor, most of the creatures were still some distance away.
    He marched purposefully toward the nearest of the bodies and raised his machete, knowing they were all that stood between him and a decent-size stash of liquor, food, and other supplies.
    *   *   *
     
    “Fuck me,” Webb laughed as Harte dragged a heavy trolley through to the back of the store. “Just look at all that…” He stared with eyes wide like a child’s on Christmas morning at the boxes of cigarettes, crates of beer, and bottles of drink piled up on the trolley.
    “Instead of just looking at it,” Harte said, panting, “you could try helping.”
    Bemused, Webb shook his head, then moved around to the back and started pushing. Groaning with effort, the two men managed to guide the unresponsive trolley down an aisle strewn with rubbish and the skeletal remains of several shop staff. They pushed it through a pair of swinging double-doors out into the loading area, then hauled it toward the waiting bus. Hollis and Lorna were already unloading another similar trolley. Stokes was