by K. M. Raya
I’m about to call out to him, when suddenly I’m grabbed from behind. The pull is so hard that I fly back, twisting to avoid chomping teeth. All I can see is Helana’s head snapping my way as her eyes go impossibly wide. “Alex!” she screams. I still can’t regain my balance, and just when she rips free of the hands clutching her arms, my head smacks into the doorframe nearest me, and my vision goes black.
Chapter ☣ 15
Hell
“Helana, no!” Wyatt screams, but it’s like I’m hearing him under water. Alex is just lying there, and if I don’t do something right now, he’s done for. He may not be my favorite person in the world, but he doesn't deserve to go out like this.
Wyatt goes to grab for me, but his hands only graze my pack and I let it slide from my shoulders. The zombie to my left catches my hair in his fingers, causing my head to snap backwards, but instead of letting it drag me to the ground, I fling my machete up and in through its eye socket before its gnashing teeth have a chance to sink in to my skin. The thing drops, releasing my hair.
Dropping to my knees, it’s a struggle to make it over the pile of bodies to where Alex lies unconscious. His head is bleeding and I can’t even tell if he’s breathing. My hands slip through splattered brain matter and blackened, congealed blood pooling on the tile under the dead bodies, but I keep going. The oncoming horde shuffles faster on broken legs and bent ankles. I can hear the rattling of their bones like a symphony ringing out through the halls. It’s deafening. More spill out of rooms and cut me off from Wyatt. He’s disappeared into a room, anyways, and I hope to fucking God it’s the pharmacy.
I throw my machete, taking out the zom that dragged Alex down. Finally, I reach him and give him a hard shake. He doesn’t stir. “Alex, wake up!” I scream in his face, but there’s not so much as an eye twitch. Shaking him again, I crack my palm across his face. “Alex, you fucking idiot, wake up, now!”
“Helana, get out of here!” screams Wyatt. Looking up, I see him fighting his way to us, but if he doesn’t turn around and run, they’ll overtake him in such a narrow space.
Our eyes connect across the hallway. It’s only twenty feet, but the carnage between us makes it seem like a vast, barren desert. “Wyatt, go! We’ll meet you downstairs when the coast is clear!” I yell over the noise, hoping he hears the urgency in my voice. “I’ve got him, Wyatt, I’ll get him out of here!”
“No!” he screams. His voice cracks. Suddenly, another door off to the side slams open, and more zombies pour in. It’s now or never. If Wyatt doesn’t run right fucking now he’ll never get out. I think he realizes this. “I’m not leaving without you guys!” he calls out, before turning on his heel and making his way down the hall with the horde on his heels.
Speaking of hordes, the other end of the hall is filled with them now. I can smell the rot getting closer, and their moans and groans make me want to vomit. Looking down at Alex, still out cold in my arms, I know I have no choice but to do this myself. “You fucking owe me for this,” I grumble.
Standing to my feet, I hook my hands in the straps of his pack and pull until I’m dragging his dead weight through a doorway into what looks like a small xray room. There are no windows save for a skinny horizontal one near the ceiling, and only a single door off to the side with nowhere else to run. If we go inside, we’ll be trapped, but what choice do we have?
Dropping Alex, I use my foot to scoot him all the way into the room, before ripping his gun from his arms. I have to cut the strap with my machete because he’s got it all twisted around his arm. Just as I’m pulling it free, Alex cracks open a light blue eye. “About freakin time!” I screech, finally getting the gun free from his grasp. Alex just groans in pain. His head’s probably killing him right now.
Not looking back, I rush to the door where I can already hear dozens of footsteps. I hate using guns nowadays, but I don’t have any other options. My arrows won't be enough, especially at this close of range. Like a muscle memory, I grip the weapon, flick the safety off and brace against the wall before firing into the oncoming horde. The first wave of them are only seven feet away now, and they drop immediately, causing the next wave to scramble and fall over the tops of them, but it doesn’t stop them from crawling. Nothing deters them from their meal. They tear at their own skin and nails just to get to us, unaware that there are more of them. The scent of us drives them mad. It’s a frenzy that this one gun isn’t going to be enough to hold back.
When I think they're back far enough, I turn, shutting the door behind me before rushing around the room, trying to find anything I can to barricade the door. The only thing here that's not bolted to the ground is a rolling med cart and a couple of wooden chairs. Fat lot of good that’ll do us. I don’t know why, but for some reason, I lock the door. Logically, I know in my head that zombies have no concept of doorknobs, but for some reason it makes me feel safer.
Alex is still on the floor, groaning and clutching his head, looking out of it. I remember the door to the right, and rush towards it. Inside is probably the smallest closet I think I’ve ever seen. My belly clenches at the tight, dark space. Everything inside of me rebels. The closet is filled with brooms and mops, but I shove them out, kicking them across the room before going back for Alex who is starting to sit up now. His black hair is falling out of its tie, and his mask is askew, but otherwise, his eyes are beginning to look coherent.
“Get in the closet,” I whisper, trying to tug him to his feet.
He just groans, “What…”
“No time to argue right now, Alex. Get in the fucking closet!” I’m yelling, but also whispering. It feels incredibly at odds with how frustrated I am right now.
Staggering to his feet, he towers over me, but still grips my shoulder to keep himself up, and I let him. We hobble towards the dark closet, shutting ourselves inside and bracing a broken broom handle under the doorknob. I have no idea how long the door to the other room will hold, or if the zombies will lose interest and stagger away. In my experience, they mostly go after immediate sounds or smells, but if you take those things away for long enough, their dead brains don’t retain enough memory to keep going.
Alex settles on the ground, sinking down the wall while I press my ear to the wooden door. The door is pretty sturdy. These old buildings were built to last, so that’s one thing going in our favor, I guess. I wait a few tense minutes, just listening. All I can hear are the sounds of pounding hands and guttural moans and growls. There must be at least fifty of them out there… maybe more.
When all this started, people fled to hospitals out of panic, but by the time they got there, the fog had already latched on and invaded their bloodstream. It turned them before they even knew what was happening. As a result, most hospitals were overrun the first day.
Alex groans, banging the back of his head against the wall. “Where’s Wyatt?”
“I don’t know,” I whisper, still listening against the door. I don’t hear any gunshots… but that could mean anything. It doesn't have to mean the worst.
“What do you mean, you don’t know?” Alex snaps.
I whirl on him in the darkness. I can’t see much more than shadows, even after my eyes have the chance to adjust, but I can see a vague outline of his sitting form against the white wall. “Don’t even go there right now. While you decided it was a good time for a nap, I was dragging your ass away from a fucking horde.”
Silence. All I can hear are the sounds of our breathing over the noise of banging fists and scraping nails outside. Taking a deep breath, I let myself slip down the wall next to Alex. It’s a tight squeeze, but we’ll have to make due for now. Rolling my head to the side, I face him. “Look, I’m sure Wyatt’s fine. I saw him take off down the hallway, but there were more on our side anyways…”
“He’d better be,” he mutters.
“You know what, it’s not my fault. We needed those meds, even if Nina wasn’t sick. It was only a matter of time until one of your people needed it to
o.” He huffs, but doesn’t respond. “You know I’m right. If it was Dante back there dying from an infection, you’d have been the first one to sign up for this mission.”
“Yeah, because he’s one of mine. I barely know you guys.”
“Well, you’ll never have that chance if she dies, now will you?” I ask softly. “Wyatt and Dante keep telling you, but you’re too stubborn to listen. We’re all that’s left… we have to ban together if we have any chance of surviving this.”
“I don’t trust you,” he breathes, sounding conflicted.
“And I don’t trust you…”
“So where does that leave us?” he asks dejectedly, tipping his head back towards the ceiling.
I think about that for a second. Where does that leave us? I’m not sure, actually. In this world, you have to run with the ones you trust to watch your back. And I can say with all honesty that Alex just might leave me for dead. Had the tables been turned, I fully believe he would have gone after Wyatt, leaving me there passed out in the hallway. But I’m just assuming at this point. I guess you never really know what people will do in a situation until it presents itself.
We stay silent for another twenty minutes, maybe longer. The sounds of the dead haven’t died down. If anything, they’ve grown louder. My gunshots must have attracted every zombie in the hospital. It’s only a matter of time until that door is torn down and this one too. The thought actually makes me shake. For the first time since fleeing the trappers, I feel a little hopeless. That, and I absolutely despise small enclosed spaces. They make me feel panicked and fidgety… not a good combination for someone living in the zombie apocalypse. Hiding in small spaces is the name of the game now, phobias be damned.
I place my fingers on my knees, fiddling with them to keep the jitters away, but it’s no use. Fear runs rampant, icing my veins. I'm bouncing my knee and clasping my fingers together tightly, when I feel a warmth move over them. I almost jerk away, but Alex’s fingers wrap around mine and hold.
“You need to calm down,” he whispers. He’s so close to me that I can feel the heat of his breath on my cheek. We removed our masks ten minutes ago, and the air is freezing, but stuffy. He squeezes tighter. “As long as we’re calm and quiet, they’ll go away…”
“Don’t be so sure,” I murmur nervously. “Using your gun must have attracted more of them. Who knows how many, and I know Wyatt doesn't have enough firepower to take care of it.”
I can almost feel his grin, even though I can't see it. “He’s scrappier than you think. We just need to wait it out.” His fingers still haven’t let go of mine. They feel good… reassuring for some reason I don’t feel like examining. “Just don’t have a meltdown in here, or I’ll have no choice but to knock you out.”
Aaand he ruined it. I rip my hand away from his. “I think you’d enjoy that a little too much.”
He chuckles darkly, “You’re probably right.”
Shoving him with my shoulder, I can’t help but grin. I also notice belatedly, that my shaking has stopped. I still don’t like being in this tight space, but somehow, asshole supreme has managed to distract me. We sit in silence some more, still listening to the sounds of gnashing and biting growing louder.
“So… tight spaces?” Alex asks out of nowhere.
It takes me a minute to let his question… or rather, assumption sink in. “Always hated them.” Flashes of a cold cage and a deep, muddy pit fill my mind.
He makes a humming noise, like he’s thinking. “I get it. When I was a kid I was always afraid of the dark. Didn’t sleep without a nightlight until I was sixteen,” he admits, surprising the crap out of me. I don’t know why he’s chosen now to spill his guts, but I’ll take anything to distract me.
“Yeah, well, I never really got over it. Here I am at twenty five, terrified of a broom closet.” Laughing bitterly, I just rest my head back against the wall. “How is it that I can fight zombies, but sitting in a closet makes me wanna hurl?”
He chuckles. “I guess it’s the fears we’ve held onto for the longest that end up doing the most damage, right?” Rolling my head to the side, I look at him in confusion, urging him to elaborate. “Think about it. You’ve been afraid of small spaces your whole life. You already know you're afraid, but zombies? You’ve never had to be afraid of them for real. They were always fantasy… not something real and tangible that could hurt you.”
“Well they sure are now…” I mutter.
He laughs again. “Guess so. But I saw you out there at Costco. You, Nina and Missy handle yourself pretty well for a bunch of girls.”
Scoffing, I scoot up the wall a little, straightening my shoulders. “Why do you do that?”
“Do what?”
“You know what. You constantly bring up the fact that I’m female. What does my vagina have to do with anything?”
He shakes his head, clearly holding back laughter. “Don’t get your panties is a twist, I didn’t mean anything by it. I just mean you guys seem to know what you're doing, is all. Which is surprising.”
“Why’s that?”
Alex lets out a long breath. “Just is, alright? I don’t feel like getting into it.”
“You’re the one who brought it up in the first place. Sorry I asked.” Sitting back, I cross my arms over my chest, trying to get comfortable, even though I’m smushed up against the enemy.
There’s something he’s not telling me, I can feel it. But I also know he doesn’t owe me anything either. I have no rights to this man’s secrets, the same as he has no rights to mine. But it’s starting to slowly drive me crazy, the more and more he acts out against me. At this point I don’t even think it's personal. I think someone hurt him really bad, and possibly ruined him for women everywhere. I’m just speculating, though. A person has to first have a heart in order to get it broken.
“When I was seven…” I begin, though I can’t tell you why. “My brothers and I used to play outside from sun sup until sundown. We had this game called cops and robbers, and we’d run around the ranch all day with little BB guns pretending to be outlaws.” I smile wistfully, picturing my brothers in their cowboy hats and goggles. We looked like idiots.
Alex’s head is turned my way, and I can tell he’s waiting for me to go on, so I do, because what the hell do I have to lose anyways? “One day in the summer, we were at the end of our game, and of course, Niko was winning, as usual. He was the biggest of the four of us and always had the better shot. It was getting dark out, but I wasn’t ready to go inside just yet. School was starting the next day and I just wanted to play a little longer.”
I can feel Alex smiling next to me, and I wonder for a second if he did something similar as a kid too. I go on, needing to finish this. “I ran farther than daddy allowed us to, and I knew it was wrong, but I wanted to win, just this once. Out there in the desert, there's nothing for miles and miles, and in the dark it’s practically pitch black until the moon comes out.”
I can picture it now as easily as if I were staring at a snapshot. The mountains in the distance, the shadows growing longer on the hot dirt. The smell of fresh air… we don’t have much of that anymore. “I was running too fast and not paying attention to where I was going. The ground suddenly broke beneath me and I fell. I thought I was going to die when I just kept falling. But I landed in about three feet of cool water, surrounded by old stone and dust.”
Pausing for a moment, I take a minute to catch my breath. Even now, all these years later, it still turns my stomach to think about that day. I feel a warmth on my hand once again, and looking down, I see that Alex has grabbed my fingers. I don’t pull away. He squeezes them as if to urge my story on. “I’d fallen down an old well that they boarded up from the topside. My family didn’t use it anymore because it was too far away from the ranch to be practical. I stayed down in that well for two days until daddy’s hounds finally found me. I think I screamed until I didn’t have a voice anymore, but I remember feeling so trapped.”
Alex squeezes
my fingers again, running his thumb over mine and whispers, “That’s why you hate small spaces…”
Nodding, I find myself lacing my fingers through his, reveling in the feel of a comforting touch, even though I know this is a bad fucking idea. “It sounds so stupid after almost twenty years, but I swear every time I’m in a tight spot I feel like I’m back in that well screaming again.”
“It’s not stupid,” he says. “If anything it’s pretty brave of you to willingly stuff us in this closet even though you’re scared. I wish it was a little bigger, but hey, I’m not complaining.”
I go to open my mouth and tell him I’m not scared, but I snap it closed a second later, knowing it’s no use. “I guess so.” Shaking my head, I lean back against the wall and breathe in deep. “Sorry for the TMI.”
I never used to do this. I’ve always been a fairly private person, and bringing up my fears and weaknesses definitely wasn’t in today’s game plan. And to Alex of all people… I feel open and exposed, but in all honesty, I guess falling down a well isn’t exactly a dirty little secret.
He laughs softly, surprising me, because I think it might be the first time I’ve ever heard that sound from him when it’s not followed by something snarky. “Nah, it’s cool.” He pauses, clearly thinking something over.
Nudging him in the shoulder, I smile cheekily, sort of hoping he can’t see it. “You might as well say what you wanna say. I make no promises about getting out of here alive so it might be your last chance to prove you aren’t a total douche.”
He snorts, but is quiet for a few more minutes while I wait. Finally, he sighs. “I've been burned by someone who I cared about. We all were, and it’s still… fresh.” I can practically hear his cringe. “I can’t tell you more than that, but I just…” he pauses, struggling for the words. “I just wanted you to know that… I know I’m an asshole, but it’s not you that I hate, okay? I just need time.”