The living dead pounded down behind him, one or two of them reaching the ground floor a mere second after him.
Lambert spun round, pulling the Browning from its holster. He fired with one hand, the recoil almost breaking his wrist, but by some miracle the shots hit their target and two of the creatures were felled. But now more were flooding the foyer and Lambert dashed for the twin sets of double doors, smashing the glass in one as he slammed into it, desperate to reach the main doors of the cinema. The things clattered after him, pausing a moment when he shot down two more. But now it was Lambert's turn to pause.
He turned to the great, steel braced glass doors and almost shrieked when he saw the chains and padlocks which held them firmly shut.
The first of the creatures came at him through the double doors and he blew half its head off, then another, recoiling from the light, shielding its eyeless sockets in pain. Lambert realized that the fight was his only hope. He tore down the curtains which masked the twin sets of double doors, flooding ten feet from him. The Inspector felt sick, overpowered by the collective stench which emanated from them. He gave himself a moment's respite and fired at one of the padlocks. The heavy grain bullet shattered it and Lambert tore the chain free, kicking at the heavy door, shouting when it stuck. He threw all his weight against it, aware that the bolder of the creatures were drawing closer to him. He fired. The first of them went down, blood jetting from the wound in its throat.
Mackenzie ran at Lambert, his lips drawn back in that familiar hideous feral grin.
It was the force of his charge which finally catapulted Lambert through the half-open door and onto the pavement outside.
The other creatures cowered back from the light which flooded in through the glass and Mackenzie was left outside. Lambert felt his weight on him and struggled to free himself, aware that his attacker was becoming weaker in the light. Lambert remembered that he still held the length of chain and he lashed out savagely with it, catching Mackenzie across the cheek and laying it open to the bone. Those burning red orbs glowed intensely, defiant to the end. Lambert brought the chain whipping down across the man's skull. The heavy links split the flesh of his scalp, tearing away hunks of hair. Mackenzie dropped to his knees, his blazing red eyes still fixed on Lambert who had retrieved the Browning.
From point blank range, the policeman fired, almost shouting his delight as the bullet slammed into Mackenzie's jaw just below the ear, tearing it off before erupting from the back of his neck. Mackenzie sagged forward in a spreading pool of blood and Lambert put three more into him, finding something akin to pleasure in the damage the bullets wrought. He stared down at the body, frightened it would get up. At last he bolted for his car and snatched up the handset.
'Grogan,' he barked, continuing before the man had even had time to acknowledge, 'get all the cars to the Empire in town. The cinema. They're here. All of them. They're here.' He was shouting now. 'And I want petrol, lots of petrol and tell them to hurry, for fuck's sake tell them to hurry.' He threw the handset back inside the Capri and dashed back to the front of the building, peering in at the remaining living corpses.
5:30.
Night was drawing in fast. Lambert prayed they would make it in time.
The three police cars arrived within minutes of one another. Lambert told all of them to switch on their headlights and keep them trained on the front of the cinema.
'What about the petrol?' asked the Inspector, looking at Hayes.
As if in answer to his question, a Shell delivery tanker rumbled up the street and Lambert caught sight of Grogan behind the wheel. The policeman drove up onto the pavement in front of the cinema and leapt down from the cab. Together, he and Lambert pulled the hose free and Lambert placed the nozzle just inside the main door of the building.
'Turn it on,' he shouted.
Clambering back into the cab, Grogan flicked a switch and gallon after gallon of petrol pumped into the foyer of the cinema. The policemen in the cars could see the living dead cowering back from the blazing headlamps, stepping in the flooding petrol, falling over one another in their attempts to reach the darkness. Many stumbled into the stalls for shelter but Lambert had men posted at each exit with orders to shoot anything that came out. Nothing would come out of that place tonight.
A red light winked on the dashboard of the tanker and Grogan yelled that the tank was empty.
Lambert ran to the safety of the nearest car then, taking a shotgun from Walford, fired four times into the petrol flooded cinema foyer.
There was an ear splitting roar and a blinding flash as the flammable liquid went up with a high-pitched shriek.
The creatures not immediately incinerated in the conflagration were either burned as the fire took hold throughout the entire building or shot down as they bolted from the exits.
Almost in awe, the men of the Medworth force watched as huge tongues of flame licked up the outsides of the building, the entire place transformed into a huge oven. For four hours it burned, the smoke rising thickly into the night sky until at last, gutted and destroyed, the roof collapsed, sending out a blistering shower of sparks.
By first light the next morning all that remained was a gigantic blackened ruin, like some huge pile of charcoal, choking black smoke still drifting from the remains.
The men had stood silently for a while, not daring to believe that it was all over but then Lambert had given the order for them to leave and, led by him, they had driven off.
Lambert felt no elation, merely a crushing weight of weariness, of total emotional and physical exhaustion. His desire to rest overwhelmed all but one feeling.
He thought of Debbie.
No one had seen the thing which had once been Gary Briggs crawl from the boot of Puma Three that night. All had been too intent on watching the incineration of the living dead.
When they left, the Briggs thing crept into the ruins of the cinema, searching. It knew that it would have to be quick for the sun would be at its zenith soon and the pain would be too great. But it found what it sought and it left the blackened hell where the other living dead had sought refuge.
Now it hid in the church up at Two Meadows, sheltering from the light. At home in the bell tower where no sun could reach it.
It knew what it had to do and knew how to do it. It rested, clutching the medallion to its chest.
It waited for the coming of night.
'You'll do,' said Kirby, tucking away his stethoscope. Lambert pulled his shirt back on and began fastening it.
'What about the rest?' asked the Inspector, tucking the shirt into his trousers.
'They were fine too,' Kirby told him. The two men looked at each other for a moment then the doctor said, 'Back to normal eh, Tom?'
Lambert shrugged, 'I don't think anything will ever be bloody normal after what's happened here these past couple of months.' He ran a hand through his hair, 'I'm just pleased it's all over.'
'Amen to that,' said Debbie, who was sitting in a chair across the room from the couch on which Lambert perched. They were in Kirby's surgery.
'I hear Jenkins' wife had a little girl,' said the doctor, smiling.
Lambert nodded, 'I sent him on leave to be with her. Walford and Hayes are off too. They deserve the rest after what they've been through. The others will get their chance in a couple of weeks.'
'And what about you?' asked Kirby.
'What about me?'
'When do you take your leave?'
Lambert slid down from the couch, 'I don't. There's still work to be done, John. I'm in charge of the force here; it's my job to see that it gets done.'
'Tom, be sensible. After what you've been through, you more than anyone need a couple of days off.'
