by Poss, Bryant
The tapping commenced. There wasn’t enough rain to mask the sound of metal on glass. Cillian risked watching the door shake from whatever it was being struck with, probably the stock of a weapon, maybe the barrel. If they broke the glass of the front doors, this school, this structure would certainly lose nearly all its value, but what could he do? If he exposed himself, they would stop at nothing to get inside. If he was standing here when they got through, they would most surely take him then search the building until they found the others. God knows what they would do to Lo. He knew too. And, he certainly knew what they wanted with Alice. He thought he did, but he was thinking too old world. What would they do to Devon or to him? Watching the boots underneath the tarp, he quickly realized that helplessness may be the worst feeling he’d ever experienced. There was absolutely nothing he could do to remedy the situation.
Tap
The glass rattled in the frame. One of the soldiers dropped to the ground, peering under the tarp at the open lobby on the other side. Cillian stood to the left side, confident the soldier couldn’t see him. The soldier’s head was shaved close to the scalp, a small machine gun slung over his shoulder with a strap. The man had a grizzled face, a hungry face, but not for food.
Tap
After a full minute, the soldier who’d dropped stood up with the other two, one testing the integrity of the door. Surely they could break through if they wanted, but it was as if they didn’t want to ruin the glass. Perhaps they thought the way Lo did in that ruining a structure such as this would be counterproductive. Perhaps they were cautious of what may be inside.
“They’re testing for infected inside.” the whisper barely made it to his own ear.
Tap
Cillian consciously tried to slow his breathing by inhaling deeply through his nose. He couldn’t be here if they came through that door. The only thing to do was head back, tell Lo, and try to figure out what to do. In less than a minute the problem would be solved for him if he didn’t leave.
Tap
A pause. All the boots turned away from the door. What was that? A blood-curdling yell, distant but moving. A spazzo, Cillian realized as the men ran from the door, yelling obscenities, with the occasional pop of rifle fire in the background. He didn’t move, just listened to the fading chaos out the door, whispering his thank you to the crazy spazzo that had come running to the sound of the tapping on the door. Cillian waited a full ten minutes after he’d heard the last shot. Feeling confident they’d abandoned the school for now, he made his way back down the hallway, shoes squeaking loudly with each turn. After a half minute sprint, he hit the door with his shoulder.
“Lo!” there was urgency in his voice, but he still didn’t yell. “Lo, open the door!”
The door flew open, and he stumbled in with it. Lo grabbed him, hugging him to her forcefully.
“I’m sorry I snapped at you,” she said in his ear. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”
Despite the situation, he couldn’t seem to pull himself away. He closed his eyes and let her hug him, a side of his face lost between her breasts that he breathed in deeply. He’d have held her longer if he’d known what was to happen. After a moment, he finally held her at arm’s length, locking eyes with her.
“Listen, we have a serious problem, but before I tell you anything, I want you to know that I’ve got an idea how to solve it . . . but you’re probably not gonna like it.”
11
“Let me get this straight,” Lo pinched the bridge of her nose, her other arm folded underneath. “In a nutshell, you want to bring pokies into the school.”
Cillian sat on one of the work tables, his feet dangling off, making him look a little more like a kid than he actually was. In all honesty, he didn’t even appear to be much of a kid anymore. His dark hair was considerably longer, growing at the rate youth allowed. Lo had offered to cut it for him, but he liked it. His parents had never let him have long hair, which made him want it even more, and now he wanted to see how it suited him. Devon sat cross-legged in the corner, eating his second box of Rice Krispies while Alice just stood listening. Silence filled the room and Lo stared at Cillian. When he was sure she’d finished, he responded.
“The soldiers were looking through the glass doors, most likely curious about the tarp hanging. The only way they are going to leave this building alone is if they think it’s infested. At least, that’s the only thing I can come up with. If anybody has anything better, by all means.”
“We could lay low, hold out.” Lo said, but she didn’t sound convinced herself. “It’s a big building. We could hide if they ever came in.”
“They only left because of the spazzo,” Cillian sat up, resting his forearms on his thighs. “They are eventually coming inside. If they do, I’m sure they’ll leave no room unsearched. We don’t know how many there are. We do know they all have guns. Also, how will we know if they come in? This is a big building. By the time we found out they were in, it would be too late.”
“There are at least twenty soldiers,” Alice chimed in. “Maybe more, but I know no less.”
“Fewer,” Lo said, still looking at the ground, thinking.
“You’re right, fewer.” Alice replied with pursed lips.
“I hate to say this, but if we’re going to do this, we have to do it today. They’ll be back soon,” Cillian hopped down from the table. “We get Pokies into the lobby, maybe a couple in the hallways if they look through the doors. All we can hope is if they see the building is overrun, they’ll leave it alone. They’re only looking for Alice and Devon. They should move on. Of course—” he stopped and looked around for a moment then continued. “We could always leave. Come back after we’re sure they’ve gone or just move on.” His eyes stared blankly at the ground, like the thought of moving on had drained the life from him a little.
“And leave everything we’ve worked for?” Lo’s tone was sharp, definite. “Leave the food we can’t carry, the miracle of a huge, empty structure? No way, I can’t even consider it. What we can do though is keep all the dry goods in the ceiling. That way if the building is searched, they won’t take the food.”
“Fine with me,” Cillian replied. “You know I don’t want to leave.”
“We’ll start putting away food,” Alice chimed in, placing a hand on Devon’s shoulder. “It will be easiest for this guy here to put the food in the ceiling, anyway.”
“Let’s go take a look at what we’re dealing with,” Lo turned and unlocked the door, everyone taking to her heels. “Hand me Luck.”
The lobby actually looked like the perfect place to round up some used-to-be-human cattle. At least, that’s how she continued to think of this to keep her sanity. Just going to rustle up some mindless killers then let them go. What’s the worst that could happen?
The lobby was a large, open room probably fifty by eighty feet, and it exited in wide hallways to the north and south. Lo and her group always entered from the south hallway, which housed most of the classrooms. The north led to the cafeteria, gymnasium, and theater. They could secure themselves in the rooms, even isolate the pokies to the main hallways, but they couldn’t just lock them in the lobby and seal the halls. That may indicate to the soldiers that the building has been secured in sections.
“We lock all the doors,” Cillian said as if reading her mind. “We lock all the doors and leave them in the main halls. Now, how will we know it worked?”
“I want to go outside and watch them from a distance.” When Lo said it, he stopped and looked at her.
“Um, why would you do that?”
“I want to get some information,” Lo explained. “When this is over, and we’ve secured the school, I’ve got to check out their compound. You know I have to see—”
“If Ben is there.” Cillian finished for her. “You’re going to leave us here?”
“Don’t play the helpless kid card with me,” she started to get angry but quickly checked herself, walking over to him, putting her hands on his c
heeks and looking him in the eyes. “This is not that world. You’re not a helpless kid. Remember what we talked about. Things are different now. We’re all people here, no classes, no separation.” She kissed him softly on the lips.
“So, you’re telling me Devon’s a grown man?” He asked through clenched teeth, his eyes misty, the tension of this conversation becoming downright palpable.
“Okay, well maybe we can’t get rid of all the rules, but you’re certainly capable of looking after the others.” She brought her nose to his, nearly touching it. “I can’t not look, Cillian. He and I went through a lot in the first days. Hey, I sure as hell wouldn’t leave you there. I wouldn’t hesitate.”
He opened his mouth to speak, only to close it again and nod his head, accepting her logic. Kissing him once more, she walked over to the entrance of the north hall and started checking doors.
“We’ll lock the doors to the cafeteria, and we’ll double check all other doors,” she spoke without stopping, and he went in the opposite direction, checking other doors.
After about half an hour, everybody met back in the lobby then followed Lotus down the south hallway, not one of them without terror taking root somewhere inside. They had moved from tiptoeing around this existence to concocting a method to use infected to fool psychotic immunes in what could be considered a very short time. The world had become more than a ground for survival; it was a place to find courage as well. Not just courage to exist but to fight.
After the doors to the outside and to the classrooms were checked, Lo had Devon and Alice go back to the living area and lock themselves in, taking one of the walkie-talkies and giving the other to the girl, explaining to her to listen carefully for any news because this was the only way she could let her know if something went wrong. She considered putting Cillian with them, but she knew he’d probably fight her on it, and he’d have good reasons. He was needed out here. And while this might not be a stunt she wanted him to try, it certainly wasn’t anything to be attempted by a single person. It looked like all her talk about having to be an adult in this world was going to have to come true, but she wasn’t worried. Cillian seemed to be more than capable.
Eyes meeting with building confidence, they walked down the empty hall, their shoes making almost no noise, and she looked down at his maimed hand, the jagged pink line crossing the stubs of what used to be the last two fingers of his left appendage. Sealing the wounds had been more than challenging, butterfly bandages and gauze being the only tools she could manage. Stitching such a wound had been beyond her ability, but the boy had actually been lucky with the opening. His brother had gotten both digits down to the third knuckle, so no bone was exposed, and she was certainly glad of that, not knowing how she would’ve handled it otherwise. Looking at it now, healed or healing, and according to him without much pain, she thought about what he’d been through. His parents dead, well his dad infected, maybe still shuffling around inside that garage for all she knew, and his little brother stuck in the van, dead or not dead. He managed just like everybody else did. How? Maybe there’s only so much shit the human brain can deal with before it throws its hands up and moves on. Perhaps that’s the ultimate defense mechanism, the way things really should be. You can either lose linear cognition, not able to focus, only exist and blabber nonsense at whoever or whatever will listen, or you can let it all go only to immerse yourself in the misery of what happened during the most inopportune moments or when trying to sleep.
“What’s the plan?” he snapped awkwardly using his bad hand to prompt her and she couldn’t help but smile.
“We bait them, right?” She paused for a second, and he just looked at her so she continued. “We could get them in here one at a time sure, but how do we keep them away once inside? We’ve got to have something for them to go to, something to occupy them in the lobby, so we can get them in.”
“No amount of Percocet is going to get me to do that,” Cillian replied, half seriously.
“Please, kid, like I’d waste the meds,” they both laughed out loud. “No, we’re going to use something else. I’m not sure how stupid these things are, but they’re about to be put to the ultimate test.”
Without another word, she kept walking, his mouth opening several times to ask about their destination, but it snapped shut each time, every now and then his sneaker squeaking on the waxed floor. They made their way to the opposite side of the cafeteria and into the dance class, Lo holding out her hand toward the wall and smiling back at him.
“There’s a meaning in this somewhere,” he said, slowly shaking his head. “I’m either slow or you’re terribly unclear. I’m betting on the latter. Are we going to dance with them?”
“No, goober, the wall! Look what’s mounted all the way down the wall.”
“Mirrors,” he nodded and looked at her, but she just folded her arms.
“Mirrors,” she said calmly. “I’m not moving another step until you tell me why.”
Lips pursed, brow slightly furled, she watched him look at the wall, trying to put it together. She remembered her time at school, overzealous teachers always wanting to blurt out the answers, and what did she learn from it? Every so often she’d get one, the teacher to ask her a question right back so she could work it out for herself, so much more satisfying the answer. It hadn’t been given to her to save time and move on, to help everyone stay on the same page, she’d had to work it out, come to the conclusion on her own, and when that happened, not just the answer stuck with her, but the process as well, the elimination, the reasoning, the cause and effect. Perhaps that’s why she’d gotten so much more out of homeschool. It wasn’t the work that bothered her. It was usually the method. The answer was simple. She could tell him in one sentence, but what did that accomplish? The next time they needed to lure a herd of the infected into a confined space, he’d remember they once used mirrors? The process is what he needed. She needed to let him marinate until the flavor was right.
“You’re hoping for the pet effect?” he asked and she raised her eyebrows in question. “You’re hoping they’re dumb enough to think their reflection is something to mess with? To attack or at least occupy them?”
“Exactly, first try, kid. You see? That’s the only logical explanation for wanting to use mirrors. You used process of elimination. They can’t eat a mirror. We can’t trap them with mirrors. What else in the world is a mirror good for if not to cast a reflection?”
“I gotcha,” he said with a grin. “It’s better to figure it out.”
“Oh, we’ve got so much more to figure out together.” She gave him a wink before moving on.
Two of the mirrors came off the wall fairly easily, and like construction workers, they walked them down the halls, carefully setting the glass up in the lobby opposite the door they would enter. The mirrors couldn’t be seen from the main entrance, so no one looking inside should suspect the ruse. They went around the halls once more, double checking all the locks.
“What if they break the mirrors?” Cillian asked as they made their way to the door leading outside from the cafeteria, a door on the side of the building not facing the main road.
“Well, they’re flush against the wall, and we reinforced the edges with glue, so it shouldn’t be really easy for them to break. Of course, it’s a possibility. If that happens, it shouldn’t matter as long as we get them in before it does. Getting them out should honestly be the easier part, since they’ll just follow us.
“What if there’s a spazzo?” he asked softly, and she stopped, looking down at her feet.
“I shoot it in the head, and we come up with a totally different plan.”
The day was cold, the sun bright, and the two immunes both seemed pleased with the feel of grass under their shoes. A brisk breeze blew in from the southwest, the smell of the earth, chilled wind, dead leaves, a slowness. The silence was unnerving. They were used to it in the building, but inside it wasn’t so alien. This was outside. There should be so much happening. Ti
res on asphalt, engines, planes, car alarms, ringtones, something, something should be happening, but it wasn’t. There was only the smell on the wind, the sense that had experienced a rebirth in this world, the fading smell of the dead taken over by the smell of dirt, bark, and leaves slowly captivating, encapsulating like some ancient companion who’s been ignored but bears no ill will. They stood for a moment enveloped by it, the smell, the feel, the sound of the wind, until they heard the first groan bring them back into the new world. A world whose sounds of combustion were replaced by moans and screams of those who turned and hunted those who lived.
The heads of the pokies across the street turned in her direction, and Lo gave Cillian the signal to get back behind the door and close it when she was ready. Dragging shoes on asphalt overcame any sound the wind made, and they watched as the three came across, not bothering to look both ways, afraid of nothing that could harm them, only interested in one thing, existing for the singularity of nourishment. They wanted to eat, and Lo was fully willing to take advantage of that fact.
“Remember, stay behind the door until I say, and don’t make any noise,” she walked toward the road as she talked, and Cillian got behind the metal door that opened into the cafeteria like she said.
Lo watched the trio carefully, judging the slow progression of what used to be two men and a woman, and she figured it wouldn’t take anything more than a brisk walk to leave them. For the first time, she took the opportunity to really look at what they were up against. The—bodies were the color of ice, a bluish tint perhaps from poor circulation, perhaps exposure. It was beyond her understanding. A wound one of the men had suffered to the face, from what only the heavens could tell, showed signs of a little bleeding, but the blood had in fact clotted. Lo could only assume the laceration across the forehead was acquired after the man changed from he to it. Of course, there was no way to know for sure. Weeks had passed since the initial outbreak, but the bodies didn’t seem emaciated, perhaps due to the turtle-like metabolism the pokies doubtlessly sported. The flesh, while dry and withered, didn’t seem to be rotting and falling off as she’d been brought to believe by years of Hollywood interpretation. The human resemblance was there but in general appearance alone. If one ever thought any humanity remained of the person, the eyes revealed all that needed to be seen. Dull, lifeless eyes clouded over like an overcast morning revealed nothing of cognition, only compasses now showing the body where to go to get its next meal.