Life After Death (#1)

Chapter Forty

Max was rooted to the spot; he didn't know what to do. The clickers were closing in from all directions, and he had no route out. How were they all so organised? He'd never seen any of the undead act like this before.

The clickers closed in further, encircling Max completely. He turned on his heels, flipping from one direction to the other, doing all he could to spot a way out. He grasped his machete and bat; it looked as if he would have to fight his way out of this one. Fight his way out? As if that was even possible. The reality was that he would rather go down fighting than in a scared heap on the floor.

His hands were sweating and his body trembling. He had been so close to death so many times before, but this scared him. This wasn't on his own terms, and this wouldn't be quick and painless. He'd seen the scars on Joey, and the prospect of that terrified him.

The machete slipped from his sweaty grasp, clanging loudly on the floor. The noise was high pitched and loud; the sound of metal on metal. Max looked down to his fallen weapon, the horde now only a few metres away.

The blade now lay still on top of a metal drain cover. Max acted on instinct, snatching up the sword and jamming it in the side of the manhole cover. He raised his bat above his head and smashed it down onto the machetes handle. The heavy drain cover creaked and popped up slightly out of the ground before wedging back in place.

Max crashed the wooden bat onto the handle again, harder this time, the vibrations running painfully down each arm. This time the cover popped up further and dislodged from its position. Max heaved the cover to the side, praying that he would find some kind of tunnel below and not just a small drain.

He was in luck; a ladder attached to the side of the opening led down into the darkness. Max didn't have time to weigh up the options. He threw down his two bags and his weapons before diving in after them, gripping the metal ladder tightly. After a second or two he heard the items hit the ground so he knew the drop wasn't too far. Max did his best to pull the cover back over the opening, but before he could wrench it back in place the gaps and cracks were filled with clicker hands and fingers.

He abandoned the cover, instead moving down the ladder as fast as he could. The further he dropped, the less he could see, but he knew it was the only way. Before long his boots landed on hard ground, squelching in the soppy mess. He didn't want to think about what he was stepping into, but the smell left little to the imagination.

He ran his hands through the slimy gunk on the floor before he found all his dropped items, then he drove on into the blackness of the tunnel.

He walked for what felt like miles, slowly stumbling his way through, unable to see more than a few feet in front of him.

The noise of the clickers behind soon muffled and then disappeared altogether.

After putting some distance between himself and the horde, Max found another ladder to the surface and took his chances. He was sick of being down here; it felt no different from the cage he had been locked in for the past weeks.

He groggily climbed the ladder, keeping his bags firmly secured over his shoulder as he planted his palms on the cold metal drain cover and drove upwards with all his strength. The cover lifted slightly, allowing him to shift it over to one side and clamber out.

It was still late at night, but Max had to shield his eyes from the bright lights meeting his return to the surface. He climbed to his feet and brushed himself down before replacing the cover and turning to the source of the light.

He was outside the mall; the very same place he and Lizzie had first met the brotherhood. Max always assumed that the pit wasn't too far away from here, so he wasn't exactly surprised.

He peered up at the shopping centre for a moment, thinking back to the laughs and jokes he and Lizzie had shared when picking out their new clothes. He smiled to himself before ducking back into the shadows. The last thing he wanted was to be spotted and captured all over again.

Max opened his own backpack, hopefully searching to see if any of the food and drink remained. It had been untouched, so he scooped up a bottle and glugged from it thirstily. He downed half the bottle before throwing it back in the bag. The gun still sat on the top, staring back at him.

Max picked it up and felt it in his hand. The chamber was now empty of course. The gun had no power over his life anymore; it was just a harmless piece of metal. Max thought back to his altercation with Otto. The bullet had been sat in the chamber, ready to fire, just where he needed it to be. A second longer and Otto would have fired off his own gun and Max wouldn't be here.

That also meant that when Max had been sat on that bridge so long ago, with the gun pressed to his head, the bullet had been sat there waiting for him. If he had pulled the trigger that day, he wouldn't have been met with the usual empty click, but the open arms of death.

If Lizzie hadn't screamed at that exact moment, if he hadn't rushed to save her, if he hadn't stayed to look after her, he would be dead. A dead body, floating in a stream, in a pool of trickling red blood.

Even in death, Lizzie was still saving his life.

He would never have the chance to repay the favour.

Max thought for a second before nodding to himself, a sole tear running down his cheek. There was one thing he could do, even if it was the last thing he did in this world. He wanted it to be a good thing. He wanted it to be for Lizzie.

Max set off into the darkness, following the road down away from the mall with a determined stride.

It was several hours before Max reached his destination. He had followed the road for miles, retracing the drive he and Lizzie had taken; reliving each moment, as they had swerved off into the side streets to escape Otto. He took each turn they had taken, hearing Lizzie's panicked cries in his head all over again.

Then he was there. He was stood next to the car, the car they had abandoned after running out of petrol.

He pulled open the passenger door and clenched his jaw to stop himself from crying again. On the floor of the car, the map was sprawled open, a pen lying on top with its lid missing. She had still been drawing when it all turned to shit.

Max leaned in and retrieved the map, taking it round to the front of the car and opening it on the bonnet. There was a route marked clearly on the paper, with noticeable landmarks doodled along the way. Little things Lizzie could remember about the area. Max doubted she had drawn these things to help them along the way; it was more a way of reminiscing about her mother.

At the end of the route, she had circled a small town, in a sharp repeated motion. This was the destination. Next to the circle she had doodled the most detailed and emotional picture yet. Lizzie had sketched a graveyard, old grave stones and flowers dotted around the sides, with one large statue in the middle. It was a beautiful stone angel, atop a grand gravestone. Below this the detail trailed off; the picture remained unfinished, interrupted by the pursuit from Otto.

Max rolled the map up and put it in his bag, before taking a moment to ready himself.

Lizzie had told him that she wanted to say goodbye one last time. She never got that chance, but he would do it for her. He would go to that grave and say goodbye on her behalf, then who knows what. Max didn't have any motivation to carry on after this, really; he had no purpose. After that he would end it. He had made up his mind.