He walked into the conference room. The men and women greeted him as he went to his place at the head of the table.
“Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. It is truly a pleasure to be here this morning and finally be able to sit in this meeting after months of conflict in times,” he said. His mouth went dry, and he struggled to swallow. He wasn’t nervous. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt nervous. After taking over the family business at seventeen, public speaking was something he became good at. He pulled out the bottle of water and swallowed a gulp down. He cleared his throat as they all stared at him. “Please check the proposal in front of you.”
“The projector is ready.” Lilly showed up next to him. She handed him a bottle of aspirin and the remote for the projector.
“Lilly,” he said with a dry throat, “can I have another bottle of water?”
“Right away.” She bowed and brought over a few bottles from the side table next to the door.
He clicked the button on the remote and stared the slides. He signaled to Lilly, and she dimmed the lights down, only allowing natural light to enter from between the closed blinds.
“I see a few new faces today.” He nodded to a few men he didn’t recognize. “We will get to the introduction stage in a bit, but for now I need to inform you all of some”—he coughed—“sorry.”
He grabbed the water and took another huge sip. “For now I will go over the—” He started coughing again.
A guy closest to him stood. “Señor,” he said in a Spanish accent, stressing the letter N. “Are you good, amigo?”
“I am. I just need some water,” he said. “Thanks, Ricardo.” He drank another sip. A tingling sensation rose up to his spine. He planted his hand on the table.
He rushed out without an explanation and limped to the restroom. He stood in front of the mirror and splashed water on his face. He looked up. He did not recognize his own reflection. His neck jerked. This thing staring back at him was not him. Sweat ran down his forehead. Red eyes dilated. His body was cold.
“What’s wrong with me?” he said. His mouth salivated as his lower lip drooped. His brain started to shut down. The organs followed one by one. He struggled to maintain basic coordination.
A group of people walked in the restroom and froze in terror.
“Help me.” He collapsed to the ground.
Chapter 21
The raw, full moon illuminated the night sky, casting a ghostly vibe over the city. A city infested with the hungry, flesh-eating living dead howling at the moon. I drove back on the once-familiar highway, a highway I passed too many times to count. It became disturbingly foreign. Everything different, all the signs were ominous, the streets narrowed, the lights dimmed, the buildings on either side slanted intimidatingly. The foulness of the dead’s remains spread through the air on a tangible level, intensifying the smell of the dead lady I carried with me. Malak was looking out the window and assuming the worst I guessed, filling in all the blanks with her imagination and fears. I was doing a great job imagining the worst-case scenarios. I tried to shake off the image of the solider. I adjusted the rearview mirror and glanced at Deema. She stared out the window as we all did. Not a word uttered out loud. Only the occasional growling my tummy made. The tension was suffocating, and the silence was stretching the already thin endurance.
"Deema,” I said, my voice ending the long silence, “tell us more about animal transmitted diseases.”
"Zoonotic diseases," Deema answered, her focus still beyond the car. “Zoonosis is any animal disease that can be transmitted to people, like rabies.”
"Can this virus be passed on to humans from animals?" Malak asked, turning to face Deema.
"I don't know what ‘this’ is, but, he said he was bitten by a dog.” Deema’s gaze flickered between Malak and me. “Sara said she saw him move before we left.”
He did move.
"How long does it take to turn into…" I hesitated. “To turn?”
"I don't think the incubation period is long. The guy back there turned in only a few minutes.”
“After death,” Malak said.
“Your point?” I glanced at her then back to the road. The streetlamps lit parts of the road while the brain filled in the dark gaps in between. Light. Dark. Light. Dark.
"He shot himself," Malak said. "He died first then turned, so did he turn because he was bitten or because he died?"
"Good point. We can’t draw any accurate results on the incubation period since we’re not sure when he was bitten, or if the bite was the cause. I don't know," Deema said through clenched teeth.
The silence crept back in along with a few dozen more questions. Trying to figure this out was like walking in the dark with only a flashlight. We could only see what fell under the light’s path. Receiving one piece of information at a time, bits of opinions and theories scrambled together using our fear to put them together. May’s eyes. The bite. I was waiting for May to talk, but she was unusually quiet. Her gaze met mine in the mirror, and her metallic eyes glistened under the moonlight. Her watery eyes enlarged. If her dead cat bit her, did it mean she would turn? And if so, why hasn't she yet? I had to tell Malak and Deema about this. I could not hide it from them.
"We need to get supplies before we lock ourselves in the house," Malak said.
"So, we're gonna wait this out?" I asked.
"It could be our best chance," Malak replied.
Most houses in Saudi Arabia were built with high, concrete wall surroundings. It could be safe. Maybe even the perfect place to take shelter and wait out any attack. Unless the attack was coming from within the walls of the house.
"Stop by the supermarket next to the house. It’s big, so it should have everything we need," Malak said.
I nodded. Remain on the route to the house. My eyes flickered back and forth between May and the road, taking her avoiding eye contact as a bad sign. We arrived at the supermarket, entering the parking lot from an exit-only turn. The lot was empty, except for rolls of paper, plastic bags, and cardboard boxes littering the flat asphalt. The lights were off, rendering it hard to see. A large red and white LED store sign cast some light around us, making it easier to navigate through. I got as close to the entrance as physics permitted, going over the curb, and parking a few steps from the doors.
"It would be faster if we split into two groups and get the things we need," Deema said.
"Haven't you learned anything from horror movies? You never split up," May said. It seemed like her voice was only heard when there was an opportunity to object. Nonetheless, I agreed with her this time.
"We won't split up. We have to stick together, and we can't randomly run around the supermarket either. We're here to get water, canned food, candles, lighters, and anything we can use as a weapon," I said, "and coffee.”
"Protein," Deema added.
Malak wore a puzzled look. "Protein?"
"Yeah, protein. We need to keep our energy levels up," Deema said.
"Peanut butter," I said excitedly like I knew the right answer.
"Yes. Peanut butter has a long shelf life too.” Deema glanced around.
"And it really tastes good," I said with a goofy smirk. No one smiled. Yep, I definitely needed to caffeine up.
"Creepy," May said, looking out the window and staring at the entrance.
I turned off the engine and glanced toward the entrance. Light spilled through the other side of the glass doors. The automatic doors opened and closed and repeated the motion a few times, an eerie sight to witness, as if there was something standing in front of the door setting off the motion sensors.
"In and out," I said, doubt poking holes in my sentence. We armed ourselves with kitchen knives, with the exception of me. I had a gun in my hand I didn’t know how to use.
“May, you need to take the gun,” I said. I thought it would be best if May handled the gun since she had a little more experience than I did. Her father taught her and her brothers how to shoot. Growing up
, they practiced at their farm every year.
“I am not taking that,” she said.
“You’re the only one who has held a gun before,” I said.
“You’re holding it just fine,” May said. “I’m not taking it. I was never any good at it. Plus, the last time we went shooting was years ago.”
I didn't argue, and I couldn’t force her. She was too tense anyway. It might be better to keep it away from her. I grabbed the smart key and tucked it in my pocket. "Ready?"
"Yes," Malak replied, and Deema echoed.
“No, this is insane,” May said.
I pressed my fingers on the gun, securing it firmly in my hand. "Let’s go shopping," I said.
I forced a deep breath to slow down my heart racing against my steps. My pulse shuddered the gun in my hand. In and out. The wind blew a little stronger, like a warning to turn back. We all looked over our shoulders. All my senses were heightened and on alert, picking up on any oddities around us and triaging them back to my response system. I took the lead, not purposely but with all the excitement, I seemed to move the fastest. We start toward the doors. Malak followed me, followed by May then Deema. Our flat shoes made no sound, merely suggested our presence. We passed an empty cart left near the automatic doors.
"Well, that explains that," I said. The shopping cart was messing with the sensors.
"I'll get the cart," Malak said. "We'll need it to put the stuff in."
She placed a hand on the cart’s handle and pushed it. The tires underneath protested, squeaking with every turn. The doors opened for us, inviting us in. The dark area gave out a steady glow by the emergency lights hanging in the corners. How long do they last? We have to be quick. We can’t take any risks.
"May, stop bumping into me," Malak said in a low tone.
May stuck to Malak, leaving no space between them. Deema shrugged. The place was in complete disarray. Boxes open, cans spilled out littering the ground. The floor was impossible to walk on. I kicked aside the things blocking the path. The tires squeaked louder the deeper we got into the store. It was quiet in the store—the outside wind did not travel this deep.
It was only us and the cart.
"This is making too much noise," Deema whispered. Malak and I nodded.
"We need to get out of here," May said.
"Baskets," Malak said and pointed at a stack of baskets at the end of the aisle.
We left the empty cart and tiptoed to the baskets. Malak pulled out the baskets one at a time and distributed them. The basket was hanging on my wrist like a handbag as we made our way from aisle to aisle. We got a few boxes of energy bars, peanut butter, water, canned foods, pain killers, and a first aid kit. Along the way, I opened an energy bar and snacked on it. It was chewy, so I wasn't making too much noise. I always dreamed of going into a supermarket with an open budget. But this didn't feel as good as I thought it would. A pink bottle on the floor grabbed my attention. I gently placed it in my basket, hoping no one would notice.
"What is that?" Malak asked.
“What’s what?” I said, my gaze flicking left to right avoiding meeting her eyes.
“The thing you threw in your basket,”
"Organic hair conditioner," I confessed, swallowing the last bite of my energy bar.
"Hair conditioner!" May screamed. Her eyes went wide realizing how loud her voice was.
"Shush. And yes, hair conditioner. It’s used to keep the hair healthy," I said.
"You’re risking our lives for hair conditioner," May said.
"I happened to pass by it. And what? We are not showering now?" I walked past May, reached out behind her, and took a few boxes. "Flashlights. Because candles are a fire hazard.”
"Yeah, it's not like we can call the fire station," Malak said.
A subtle crinkling sound snapped all our attention at once; it came from a distance. What was it? It sounded like plastic bags rustling. Like someone stepped on it. The sound stopped, and a thud thud thud followed. Solid objects were knocked over and hitting the ground.
"We're not alone," May said, her voice trembling.
Grunting followed, ceasing all movement on our end. The words We’re not alone stamped in my head. The sounds of footsteps dragging bounced off the walls, echoing closer. I placed my index finger on my lips, gesturing them to keep quiet. We listened, trying to locate the source. It continued, getting further. Another source of sound arose. A heavy metal object dragging across the floor, scraping across. Pssa pssa pssa. It stopped. Malak pulled out her phone and flashed the light around. The light stopped at the end of the aisle, freezing my blood. The air was sucked out of my lungs. I saw it. A dark figure at the end of the aisle. It stood sideways, showing his profile. It was a man, with no emotion. He stood still. He was the one moving from one aisle to another and stopped halfway through, sensing someone else was there.
"No sudden moves. He might go away," Malak said, her voice lower than a whisper.
"The exit is right behind him. We need to lead him away from the door," I said, matching her low volume. I hope he doesn’t turn around.
"If we lead him down this aisle, we can take the next and get out of here. From what I noticed from the others, they are too slow to catch up," Malak said.
"Yeah." I swallowed hard.
"What! You want to lead him down this aisle? Like where we are now?" May’s voice shook.
"Were," I corrected. "We'll be long gone by the time he’s down here.”
I kept my eyes steadily on the shadow. Thumps reverberated in the darkness, making all my muscles stiff. Deema aimed her phone behind us. Sounds transpired from the back. There was something else making that sound, and whatever it was, it wasn’t far. I turned back to the first figure. It slowly reeled his head, revealing the hidden side of his head and body that weren't there. The man had no right arm and parts of his shoulder were cut off. Even more, his head was split right down the middle; it didn't fall off but remained hanging on the side. The girls let out an uneasy gulp. The horrifying figure looked straight at us. He saw us. My heart sank. I couldn’t look away. His limbs seemed to move backward, yet he was getting closer to us.
“Human anatomy would not allow for this movement,” Deema said. “This is not possible, it’s not possible,” she repeated fanatically.
His back bent backward, standing at an awkward angle. His elbow flexed inward, bringing the back of his hand up to his arm. The thighs retracted backward as he took steps forward. His toe pointed up when the foot tilted before going down. The sole touched the ground before the heel pressed down. Bones crackled in the wake of his motion. The way he moved was unhuman. He picked up speed toward us, moving faster than the others did. But not fast enough to outrun us.
"He's fast! Why is he fast?" Malak screamed.
Despite that, he was pulling crackling ankles as he moved. He dragged them savagely and came at us, hauling his flat Saudi sandals. This one was different; he was fast, unlike the others. We moved backward. I aimed my gun at him in a quick reaction and fired once. The gun recoiled. A burning sensation spread through my arms. The gunshot rattled my ears, leaving bells in its trail. Focus. I had him in my sight and in my range. I shot two more bullets, missing every time. The half figure got closer, at a steady speed. There was no time to think. We turned around and fled to the other aisle and stopped when we were met by the other disfigured beast. His eyes focused on us as he stumbled and staggered toward us.
They were closing in on us. A zombie at each end of the aisle, us trapped in the center separating the two. I dropped my basket to the ground. My heart beat faster, my ribcage was all that was holding it back from jumping out and running out of that supermarket. I held the gun tighter. It was cool on my skin. With me and May facing one zombie our backs rubbed against Malak and Deema who faced the other. They were getting closer with every blink. I looked over my shoulder and saw Malak raising her knife, and without warning, ran toward the zombie.
“Malak,” I yelled. I turned around to May
and pleaded with her. “You’re our only hope, May. Shoot them.”
I placed the gun in her hand and pulled the knife out of hers. There’s no time. Do something, the voice in my head screamed. I ran toward the zombie on my side; it was less than five steps from where I stood. My forehead was cold as the air hit my wet skin, heart beating faster than my feet shuffled. I approached the zombie and lifted my knife as high as I could to build momentum as I brought it down on his neck. His eyes were a rotten green, reminding me of a dirty pond with dead frogs floating on the surface. The stab didn't seem to affect him. It didn't so much as slow him down, so I stabbed again. His eyes weren’t acknowledging me. He didn't know I was here—he was looking beyond me. He got closer as I walked backward. I couldn’t run. There was nowhere to go. I turned to my side and grabbed everything I could off the shelves and threw them at him, but he didn't dodge them; he walked through them. Thud thud. They hit his face, but he kept coming. I turned around. Malak stood an arm’s length away from the other zombie, with her knife in his right eye socket. He collapsed sideways, and she took a step back. She took a few more steps back, bumping into May.
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