Life After Death (Book #1)

Chapter Twelve

Max's eyes opened wearily, burning from the bright light seeping in through the living room window. He rubbed the crust from his eyes and rolled off the sofa, landing on the floor with a thump, empty bottles of beer tumbling after him and clinking on the floor. The music still blared from the jukebox in the corner, as Max supposed it had all night during his drunken sleep. He stumbled over and switched it off, waking Joey up as he did so.

"s**t, my head is killing me," Joey whispered, rubbing his temples with his fingers.

"Tell me about it," Max agreed, reclaiming his seat on the sofa, and cracking the window open for some much-needed fresh air.

"Has that music been on all night?" Joey asked with a hint of worry.

"Yep," Max responded bluntly, massaging his weary head.

"You don't think it attracted any clickers, do you?" Joey questioned, looking around as if there could be a group lurking behind him.

"Well if it did, I think we'd know about it. Wasn't our smartest move though," Max laughed. "Right. Coffee?" he added, hauling himself to his feet and scratching his leg.

"Yeah sure, thanks," Joey replied, as Max walked towards the kitchen. "Actually Max, come sit down for a minute!" he called after him.

Max did as he was told, only too happy to sink back into the padded luxury of the leather sofa.

"What's up?" he questioned.

"Remember last night, we were talking about how there was nothing we can do about the situation we're in and we have to let it play out; maybe hope someone else comes up with a cure or something..." Joey started, pausing to ensure Max was with him.

"Yeahhh..." Max responded, wondering where Joey was going with this.

"Well, why should we do that?" Joey said.

Max was unsure of what to reply so just let his friend carry on.

"Why should we let other people do the work and hope it sorts itself out?" he continued.

Again, Max felt that Joey had more to say and so nodded along to show that his attention was with him.

"We're both very good fighters, man. I say we go out there, out on the road, and we look for people. There must be other survivors out there; why shouldn't we be the ones to bring everyone together, maybe get some kind of community going again?" Joey asked seriously.

Max finally understood what Joey was getting at, and it actually made a lot of sense. Relaxing in the house and scavenging had been a nice break from the madness out there for a while, but it seemed a waste to sit back and let the world turn to rubble.

"You know what, I think you're right, man! What if there are people out there who could fix all this s**t? What if they need our help, to protect them or fight or whatever?" Max agreed, excited by this sudden proposition.

"And even if we don't find anyone, let's take down as many of those fuckers as we can on the way!" Joey shouted, jumping to his feet in sarcastic exuberance.

"I'm in!" Max cried back.

"Up the revolution!" Joey yelled, jumping up onto the living room table and throwing his hand into a salute.

The two friends shared in a laugh of two, before walking together towards the kitchen, discussing their travel plans as they went.

"I think if we aim to..." Joey began to lay out.

Tap...tap...tap

"Did you hear that?" Max interrupted.

"Hear what?" Joey whispered, straining his ear towards the direction Max was looking in.

Tap...tap...tap

They both snapped their heads to the side and stared at each other with collective fear.

"Is that coming from...the basement?" Joey asked, nervousness oozing from his voice.

Max nodded and signalled with his hand with a sharp motion to indicate 'this way, follow me'.

Joey understood and nodded back, following closely behind Max and gripping the handle of his pocketed knife tightly.

Max crept down the stairs, treading as lightly as he could in order to follow the mysterious noise. A slightly muffled tapping continued.

"You don't think there's a clicker down here, do you?" Joey hissed from behind.

"I'd say be ready for it," Max replied, also in hushed tones.

It suddenly occurred to Max that he had no weapons on him, as his bag and rifle were stored in the armoury in the basement itself. At the bottom of the stairs he made another hand gesture, guiding Joey to the boiler room before taking the armoury doorway himself.

He felt for the switch on the wall and flicked it apprehensively, but all the light illuminated was the normal array of weaponry. As his eyes scanned the room more thoroughly for any sign of disturbance, Joey called out from behind him.

"Max! In here mate!" Joey yelled, with an indication of amusement in his voice.

Max walked out towards the boiler room. It was still in pitch black as the blinds were pulled shut, probably to shield the light during one of their epic table tennis matches.

"It's only the bloody tap!" Joey shouted in between slightly relieved laughter. "It's just the tap dripping against the stone floor!" he explained as Max heard him fiddling to tighten the source of the problem.

Max began to chuckle lightly, as did Joey, escalating until both men were engaging in bellowing laughs which bounced around the basement. Although they both acted brave, they were secretly more comforted by the fact that nothing had infiltrated their home.

"There! That's got it!" Joey yelled from within the darkness of the room somewhere.

"Erm...Joey," Max whimpered nervously.

"What?" Joey retorted.

"The noise... it's still there!" Max breathed, frantically patting his hand up and down the wall to find the switch. "It wasn't the tap!" he added in a louder, more urgent tone.

As Max found the switch, the light flickered on in short bursts, as it often did when it was warming up.

All Max could do was stand and watch, as the muffled tapping noise turned into an unmistakable clicking.

The rotten door next to Joey splintered and burst open, smashing down onto the floor in pieces.

The flashes of light limited what Max could see.

The door falling.

A series of clicks.

A scream.

The light switched on fully, as Max recoiled at the sight before him.

The clicking sound had grown louder and louder, now echoing around the drums of his ears. Joey was on the ground, a clicker hanging off his shoulder, blood covering the ground. A disgusting, disturbing squelching noise rang around the room as the clicker sank its teeth further into the flesh of Max's friend.

"Joey!" Max screamed, to no reply from Joey who's eyes were fixed with horror on his attacker, but his body frozen stiff with fear as more clickers approached.

The horde was now piling through the open doorway, half fighting over the fallen Joey and half pouring towards Max. He had no idea how many there were; it was impossible to tell as an endless stream still swarmed into the boiler room. Joey's haunting screams could only just be heard over the top of the pile of clickers that now surrounded him, feasting on his flesh.

The screams fell silent.

Max could do nothing for his friend. Although it tore him apart inside, he turned to flee the clickers who had now set their sights on him.

"I'm sorry, Joey!" he screamed hoarsely towards his best friend, although he feared there was no chance he was still alive.

There was nothing Max could do.

Still without a weapon, he sprinted into the armoury room and snatched up his pack and rifle before spinning round to escape back up the staircase; but he was too late. The group of clickers had followed him swiftly and were now blocking the stairs, tripping over each other in an attempt to reach Max first.

All a now desperate Max could do was back up into the room and prepare to fight his way out. Raising the rifle up quickly, ignoring the scope at such short range, Max began to fire at the heads of the advancing army. Bodies dropped to the floor in numbers and the metal pellets sank through the yellow rotting flesh and into the brains of the clickers. Max advanced slowly as he rained more pellets down onto the swarm, attempting to clear a path towards the stairs.

A clicker approached from Max's left, meaning that he had to pause in order to powerfully butt the undead with the end of his rifle. Joey had advised him to duct tape a knife to the end of the rifle for a situation just like this, which worked a treat as the blade punctured through the eye of his assailant.

Max snapped the rifle back, careful not to cut himself as he tucked it back under his arm. Max continued to fire and advance as best he could, now treading and clambering over the sea of fallen bodies surrounding him. He pushed the muzzle into the mouth of a female clicker ahead of him before firing off a burst of shots through her head and into the clickers behind her, using the undead woman as a shield. The final squeeze of the trigger was met only with a quiet puff. As he fired again and again his rifle whimpered out into silence. The air canister was empty; Max swore and tossed aside the useless weapon, instead retrieving two long knives from his pack.

He slashed his way through the doorway, mouth-wateringly close to the bottom of the stairs. His knives plunged into skulls and faces, over and over again, blood spurting in all directions and drenching Max from head to foot. One last clicker bared down on him from the edge of the stairway, as Max arched the blades through the air simultaneously, slicing them into opposite sides of its neck until the two blades clanged together and the head rolled off onto the floor.

Max clambered onto the stairs, slipping on the thick, gloopy blood as he did so, wiping the worst of it from his eyes. Reaching the landing, Max didn't hesitate in unlocking the huge metal door and heaving it open, pausing only to snatch up Joey's machete which lay on the table next to the door.

He ran.