by Perrin Briar
The soldiers slammed their sharp robot appendages into the dead still dying on the floor as they moved toward the door. The grunts and groans of the undead filled the stairway. More were on their way.
The survivors turned and ran for the second set of stairs on the other side of the elevator. They pulled the furniture they had prepared onto the stairs, this time with greater urgency and a lot less silence.
“I thought we used up all the juice?” Jericho said.
“It’s the emergency backup power,” Susan said.
“Emergency?” Jericho said. “How long will it take before that’s gone too?”
“Ten hours,” Richard said. “Give or take.”
“Heavens give, I hope,” Jericho said.
“Will this affect the robot on the top floor making the cure?” Steve said.
“No,” Susan said. “He’ll carry on exactly where he left off. But we’d better check, just in case. Phil?”
Phil nodded and took off at a run up the stairs.
The soldiers split off into their lookout positions; one at each stairwell, another at the plated glass window, looking at the dark city around them. They were one of only a few buildings with power. They’d attract even more of the monsters.
“Nice work with the laser,” Steve said.
“Thanks,” Susan said.
“I dread to think what might have happened if you hadn’t thought fast,” Steve said. “Is there anything on this floor we can use like the mech suit?”
“It’s the biological warfare division,” Susan said. “There will be some acids we can throw at them, but I wouldn’t release the other viruses they’ve got in here.”
“No,” Steve said. “That would sort of defeat the purpose, wouldn’t it.”
Z-MINUS: 3 hours 18 minutes
Susan paced up and down the corridor again, her phone plastered to her ear. For the moment the zombies were at bay, shuffling around on the second floor. Occasionally there was a loud bang as one of them stumbled into something and it fell over, clattering to the floor. The zombies groaned in response and fell upon it, making even more noise. But Susan was largely ignorant of what was happening beneath her feet, only what was happening in her ear.
“Come on, answer,” Susan said, grinding her teeth.
She’d called five times already, and Rosario hadn’t answered. Susan was beginning to get worried. They should have long been at her cottage by now. Perhaps they’d run into problems? They’d gotten caught in the crossfire between the army and the undead?
Susan shook her head to calm herself. It did no good getting upset and making up stories. They were probably fine. They just hadn’t arrived yet…
Or Rosario had forgotten her phone, or left it somewhere. Suddenly it made sense. That seemed the most likely reason. Susan felt a surge of hope. She dialed her landline number. It rang, and within three rings, it was answered.
“Rosario?” Susan said, gripping her phone tight to her ear. “Rosario? Are you all right?”
“Hello?” a voice on the end of the line said.
It wasn’t Rosario’s voice. It was a young voice, a young boy. Susan’s hopes dwindled as she realized she must have dialed the wrong number. But perhaps this was a neighbor. She could ask them to check on her house to see if everything was okay.
“Who is this?” Susan said.
“Markus,” the boy said.
“Markus?” Susan said. “Rosario’s grandson, Markus?”
“Yep,” Markus said.
Relief flooded Susan once more. Of course Rosario would go pick up her grandson before heading somewhere safe. Susan chastised herself for not thinking it through before. She’d have done exactly the same thing.
“Is Amy there?” Susan said.
“Yes,” Markus said.
Another wave of relief.
“She’s playing with some blocks,” Markus said, clearly not excited by the game.
“Is Rosario there?” Susan said. “I need to talk with her.”
“She’s in the bathroom,” Markus said.
“Okay,” Susan said, thinking it was too much information.
“She’s been in there a long time,” Markus said.
Susan’s attention snapped back to the present, not least because of the slight tremble of concern she thought she picked up in Markus’s voice. Maybe she’d imagined it.
“How long has she been in there?” Susan said.
“Two hours,” Markus said. “Ever since we got here.”
Susan’s body was a highway of hope and despair. She clung to her phone. There was no positive reason someone would be in the toilet for two hours.
“What do you mean?” Susan said.
“I mean, she’s been in the bathroom for a long time,” Markus said, growing impatient. “We’re hungry.”
“Have you tried knocking on the door?” Susan said.
“Yes,” Markus said.
Susan could practically hear him rolling his eyes.
“She tells me to stay away, that she’ll be out soon,” Markus said.
“What happened?” Susan said. “Did something happen on the way to the house?”
“Yes,” Markus said. “How did you know?”
Because this is the universe, and it’s full of my kind of luck, Susan wanted to say.
“Just go on,” she said.
“We were driving, when a man came running into the road,” Markus said. “Grandma thought he needed help, so she pulled over.”
Susan shut her eyes. Behind her eyelids she could already see what’d happened. Rosario pulled over and the man approached. He was limping, a dark desperate look in his eye. Rosario, the kind Samaritan that she was, would wind down her window, ask him what was wrong, and…
Rosario would scream, would beat at the man’s head, in an attempt to peel him off, but he would cling on tight, his teeth buried deep in her flesh.
Rosario would hit the gas, unable to get him off her. As they pulled away, the man would take a chunk of Rosario’s flesh with him. Rosario would scream and clamp her hand over the mouth-shaped hole in her arm.
The car would veer side to side. She would hold the wheel in a bloody grip, regaining control before she managed to get it straight again.
She would pass close to unconsciousness until they reached their destination. The kids in the back would scream each time the car came dangerously close to the verge.
They would arrive at the house. Rosario would struggle out of the car, and into the bathroom to clean herself up, bandaging her wound.
Susan saw it all in gruesome detail, in more ways than the words her six-year-old narrator was capable of.
“I need you to go knock on the bathroom door,” Susan said. “Can you do that?”
“Grandma said it’s rude to knock on the bathroom door when you know someone’s in there,” Markus said.
“You can blame me,” Susan said. “Go on. Tell your grandma Susan’s on the phone.”
Markus didn’t seem very excited by the prospect. But Susan heard him approach the door and knock. He spoke in a soft voice.
“Grandma?” he said.
There was no answer, so he knocked again.
“Grandma?” he said.
Again, no reply.
“She’s not answering,” Markus said into the phone.
“You need to knock harder,” Susan said. “Please. This is really important.”
Markus sighed, and then rapped with his knuckles, a loud sharp sound.
“What?” Rosario’s voice said.
“Someone’s on the phone for you,” Markus said.
“I thought I told you never to disturb someone in the restroom?” Rosario’s voice said.
“I know, and that’s what I told her,” Markus said.
“Told who?” Rosario’s voice said. “If you think I’ll believe Amy spoke to you, you’re cruising for a tanned hide.”
“She says her name is Susan and that it’s real important she speaks to you,” Mark
us said.
There was a pause on the other end of the line.
Please let him in, Susan prayed. If she doesn’t, they’re all doomed.
There was the squeak of a door, and then a shuffling sound as the phone was handed over.
“Susan?” Rosario said.
Her voice was a tonic to Susan’s soul. It had the same calm, measured tones it always had. But now there was hurt and pain in it too.
“How are you?” Susan said.
“I’m fine,” Rosario said. “But a man took a bite out of me on the turnpike. He looked lost. I pulled over to help him, but he went all aggressive on me. That’ll teach me to try and help someone.”
“Did you stop the bleeding?” Susan said.
“Yes,” Rosario said. “Just about. I’m lucky you’ve got a whole pharmacy in your bathroom cabinet.”
“How are you feeling?” Susan said.
“Oh, you know me,” Rosario said. “Can’t complain.”
“This is one of those times you really should complain,” Susan said.
There was a pause on the other end of the line. The whole tone of the conversation shifted.
“There was something wrong with the man, wasn’t there?” Rosario said. “I thought I saw something in his face… something evil… something that shouldn’t have been there.”
Rosario’s ability to sniff out the underlying meaning had always amazed Susan. It was like she followed the subtext easier than anyone she had ever met. No subtext ever got past her.
“Yes,” Susan said. “It’s not good news.”
“When is it ever?” Rosario said. “Go on, then. Do your doctor thing. Predict the future. Tell me what’s going to happen to me.”
The words didn’t come easily to Susan. She had to tell her friend she had a death sentence on her head.
“As bad as all that?” Rosario said at the stark silence. “Well, I don’t suppose I should be surprised. The guy who bit me didn’t look all too clean.”
“I can only tell you as much as we know right now,” Susan said. “You’ve been infected with a virus. It’s sweeping across the world right now. Maybe you got lucky. Maybe the guy who bit you wasn’t in the later stages, but those riots you see on TV aren’t just any riots. They’re caused by this virus. We’re working on the cure now, but it will take some time. You will become violent, angry and dangerous. You will attack the kids.”
“No,” Rosario said. “I would never do that.”
“I know you wouldn’t,” Susan said. “But after you turn, you are not you anymore. You’ll become a monster.”
“A monster?” Rosario said.
“You’ll attack people just like that man attacked you,” Susan said. “He probably wouldn’t have hurt a fly in his right mind either, but this virus stops us acting in our right minds. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” Rosario said. “I think I do.”
“Rosario, listen to me,” Susan said. “I need you to do something. Stay in the bathroom and lock yourself in there.”
“Lock myself in?” Rosario said. “What for?”
“Because when you turn, you’re not going to be able to stop yourself from harming whoever is nearby,” Susan said.
“Can I say goodbye to them first?” Rosario said.
“Of course,” Susan said. “But you can’t kiss them on the lips. You can’t let them get infected.”
“Okay,” Rosario said. “How long do I have?”
“Up to eight hours from the moment of being infected,” Susan said. “That’s the best we can tell.”
“All right,” Rosario said. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll take myself out of the equation soon enough. Just let me spend a little more time with the children.”
“Of course,” Susan said, her voice cracking.
It wasn’t fair that someone so kind and good should have been bitten. But life wasn’t fair. She supposed that was why so many people clung to the tenets of religion, so that there would be some kind of justice in the end, in the afterlife. But there was no afterlife, no omnipotent force that equalized the scales of justice. Life was just not fair.
“Do you want to speak to Amy?” Rosario said.
Susan’s eyes shimmered with tears. It was then that she realized how much fear was pent up inside her.
“Yes,” she said. “Please.”
“Here she is,” Rosario said.
“Amy?” Susan said. “Amy, it’s me. Mommy.”
Amy grunted and squealed with delight.
“Mommy hug,” Amy said.
“I wish I could hug you, baby,” Susan said. “But I’m far away right now. I’m at work trying to fix things.”
“Rosie hurt,” Amy said. ‘Rosie’ was Amy’s way of saying ‘Rosario.’
“I know,” Susan said. “But she’ll take good care of you. Mommy loves you very much.”
Tears spilled down Susan’s face as she had a one-sided conversation with her daughter. She absorbed every sound and utterance. It might well be the last time she would get to hear them.
Z-MINUS: 3 hours 1 minute
Susan sat in a corridor facing an empty doorframe, staring into space. It was her turn to be on watch. A few table and chair legs poked out from the darkness beyond. She sat with a dumb smile on her face, running through the conversation she’d had with Amy.
She was truly the light of her life. There was nothing else she needed nor wanted. Rosario had put the kids upstairs and locked herself in the bathroom. It was a dismal end to an amazing life, but what else could she do? It was strange to think Rosario could be anything other than a loving mother figure. But now she represented a threat, and despite all the happy memories and all the loving emotions Susan associated with her, it took but an instant for Susan to know what was truly important to her.
Amy. She would fight tooth and nail for her daughter, would do anything necessary to keep her safe. Anything.
Phil grunted at the exertion of sitting down beside Susan on the floor. He took out a flask of water, filled two cups and handed one to Susan. She pulled from it.
“This isn’t exactly how I imagined our drink together would go,” Phil said. “But I’m glad we finally had it together.”
Susan smiled.
“Me too,” she said. “Though I’d be even more glad if none of us had to be here.”
“I’ll second that motion,” Phil said.
He looked up at the barricaded obstruction they’d built on the staircase landing.
“How did it ever come to this?” he said.
“To what?” Susan said.
“To us, sitting here, watching a bunch of chair legs in case they move,” Phil said. “We were meant to change the world, eradicate the possibility of this kind of thing from happening. What happened?”
“We were too late,” Susan said. “We were getting our little ducks in a row, but it was already open season.”
“It would have been nice if we knew there was a deadline,” Phil grumbled. “But it might not be too late. I mean, that’s what we’re here for, right? The cure. It’ll put all this to rights.”
“I hope so,” Susan said. “How is Archie doing?”
“Fifty-six percent,” Phil said.
Susan nodded, not knowing what else to say.
Phil downed his water in a single gulp and said “Aaaahhh,” like it was a fine vintage.
“So, what’s up between you and Richard?” he said.
“What do you mean?” Susan said.
“You got divorced two years ago,” Phil said. “But sometimes I see a spark between you. Or am I just imagining it?”
If Phil saw it, could everyone? Susan blushed. She felt embarrassed. She was conflicted when it came to Richard. He was her former husband, after all. Once, she had loved him with every fiber of her being. But then he’d left them.
“I don’t know,” Susan said. “All I know is he’s changing… Becoming more like his old self again.”
“And you like that,” Phil said.
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He couldn’t have sounded more disappointed.
“I like that it’s better for Amy,” Susan said.
Phil nodded.
“I can understand that,” he said, though he didn’t sound convinced.
“When you have a kid it’s difficult to do what you want to do, and not what you think would be best for your kid,” Susan said.
“Are you sure that’s what you’re doing now?” Phil said. “Are you sure he’s the best thing for Amy?”
It was said so calmly, without harmful intent, that it took Susan aback. Her mouth fell open and made a sound without her knowing what it was she really wanted to say.
“Uh…” she said.
Creeeeak!
The furniture shunted forward half an inch, like a great bull was forcing it from behind.
“Oh no,” Phil said. “Not again.”
Z-MINUS: 2 hours 49 minutes
Susan and Phil leaped to their feet. They watched, mouths agape. But the furniture had stopped. No more noise. The darkness seemed to maw open wide. Susan and Phil shared a look, fear reflected on their faces.
“You saw it move, right?” Susan said.
Phil nodded.
“Affirmative,” he said.
The furniture moved forward another couple of inches, and in the distance, sounding like it came from the deep recesses of their minds, the whispered groan of a single doomed voice. Susan and Phil stepped aside, silent and calm.
They approached Steve, who was sat on duty at the other stairwell. Richard was with him.
“They’re coming up the stairs,” Susan said.
“Are you sure?” Steve said, getting to his feet.
“Definitely,” Phil said.
“Gather the others,” Steve said. “We’ll meet at the other stairwell and hold them back as long as we can. I can’t believe this is happening so fast.”
“This isn’t working,” Susan said. “They’re coming up faster than we can hold them back.”
“How long till the cure is made?” Steve said.
“We’re just over halfway,” Susan said.
“About sixty percent,” Phil said.
“We’ll have to come up with a way to slow them down further,” Steve said. “Until then, we stick to what we’ve been doing.”