The Rage by Richard Murray

Author:Richard Murray [Murray, Richard]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Horror | Infected
Published: 2019-08-24T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 17

The infected prowled around the outside of the school. In groups, small and large, they howled and cackled as they sought first food and then refuge from the harsh light of day. They crawled into the dark places around the outside of the building, though the majority made their way inside.

Which was the only thing that gave Sarah a chance of getting out alive. Or so she hoped.

Her crying had ended after just a short while. The human mind was resilient and would only allow terror to grip it for so long. Humans were not meant to maintain one state for a substantial period of time without a break and be that happiness, sorrow or gut-wrenching terror, all too soon the surge in chemicals in the body would fade and some form of equilibrium would be reached.

For Sarah, that meant a kind of numbness, a disassociation from what was happening. While she could see out of the window, from where she sat, two infected people playing a game of tug of war with a human leg, she didn’t really feel anything about it.

She watched them argue with a series of grunts and growls for several minutes before one of them released its hold on the leg and leapt on the other. A short fight ensued where they clawed and bit one another, each vying for dominance.

The instigator of the fight won, eventually managing to climb atop the other and slam its head against the ground until it lay still. Then, with the spoils of victory clutched in its bloody hands, the victorious infected man scurried away to find somewhere dark and cool to feast on its prize.

In the corridor beyond the office where she cowered, there was an almost deathly silence. The machine gun had ceased its firing and the howls and gibbering of the infected had faded away not long after the last of the screaming had ended.

They were out there though, she knew that, could feel it almost. Every now and then would come a brush of cloth or skin against the door as one of them moved past. Random scratching would come through the walls as though they were peeling off the paintings for some ungodly reason.

Sarah was afraid to move, to even breathe too heavily, just in case she attracted their attention to where she was. Instead, she sat, with her back against the wall as she listened and desperately hoped that they wouldn’t try the door handle again.

She had no weapons with her and still wore her pale blue scrubs from the hospital. She’d not changed her underwear in almost two days, a fact that she was well aware of, as the pressure on her bladder grew and the fear of losing control of it grew with it.

There was no other choice, she decided, she would either have to move or spend the next few hours until her death sitting in a puddle of her own urine. Something that she was not prepared to do.

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