Or just like her, the niggling suspicion in the back of his brain suggested. Gray shook it off and reached a hand out to the pool table, hoping to find a potential weapon somewhere on it. His fingers closed around a pool cue. He hefted it, wielding it between them like a sword, hoping to hold her at bay with it. April didn’t seem fazed by the heavy stick; if anything, she only quickened her advance.
Gray’s heart raced in his chest as he held a hand out to her, hoping against hope that she would stop, that she wouldn’t actually attack him. All evidence—especially the evidence currently mobbing en masse into the bar itself—spoke to the contrary, though. He drew in a deep breath, shaking his head slowly as he held up the pool cue like a baseball bat. His shoulders tensed as he readied himself for the next attack, the one he knew would come.
April bared her teeth at him, her once beautiful face hard and full of wild fury. Gray took a short step back, braced himself, and swung the pool cue, the heavy end leading, at April. It collided with the side of her head, sending her careening sideways against the table. She righted herself, struggling to find her feet, even as Gray took several quick steps backward to give himself breathing room. His eyes flickered in Jack’s direction. Jack, Brendon, and Smitty didn’t seem to be having much luck holding the mob off; he was honestly surprised they were still standing. Even as Gray watched, Smitty blasted another round from his shotgun right into the crowd, but none of the people who were hit with the buckshot seemed affected. That only assured Gray of the correctness of his “zombie” suspicions. It was the only explanation he could come up with, regardless of how ridiculous it appeared.
Gray didn’t have time to dwell on the assorted possibilities. April was back on her feet and coming toward him again. And Jack was yelling something at him, but with the distraction of the woman in front of him coupled with the noise from the mob crushing into the bar, Gray couldn’t make out a word of what he was saying. He shifted his eyes back to April, and his gaze met hers. He could read the intent in her brown eyes clearly.
Before April could act on that intent, Gray lifted the pool cue and brought it down on top of her skull with all of his strength. As she fell against the table, Gray lifted the cue and slammed it down, again and again, beating her mercilessly on the head until blood flowed freely. When she finally stopped moving, finally stopped reaching for him and clawing at the air between them, Gray sagged against the table, dropping the pool cue onto the floor with a loud clatter as his lungs heaved, straining for air. But, as before, he didn’t have time to stop and stand around catching his breath. Jack was yelling at him again, and now, he was able to focus enough to figure out what the other man was saying.
“Gray! Go! Get the fuck out of here!” Jack shouted across the gap between them. He paused to swing a chair leg at a man grabbing for him before looking back at Gray again. “Back door! Head for your place!”
“What about you?” Gray managed to reply, fighting the words out past a cough threatening the back of his throat.
“I’ll catch up and meet you there!” Jack said. He took another swing with the chair leg before adding, “I’ll be damned if I let Theo kill me because you got hurt. Now go!”
Gray hesitated one second more, watching as Jack turned his back on him and swung the chair leg more vigorously. Then he shook loose his frozen muscles, forcing himself to turn and do as Jack instructed. Managing to suck in a deep breath, pulling much-needed air into his lungs, Gray turned on his heel and sprinted across the bar, dodging stools and free-standing tables, aiming for the storage-room door behind the bar’s long counter. If he remembered right, there was an exit on the back wall of the storage area that would drop him onto the street immediately behind Smitty’s.
Thankfully, Gray had remembered correctly. He burst into the storage area unimpeded and slammed the door closed. The first thing on which his eyes landed was a glowing red sign that proclaimed EXIT, attached to the wall immediately above a door. Breathing out a sigh of relief, he headed for it, skirting boxes of alcohol and bar nuts stored in organized stacks on metal racks. The sign on the door that warned of an alarm sounding gave him only momentary pause, but with a glance over his shoulder back the way he’d come, Gray decided an alarm was the last of his worries. Blowing out another breath, he grasped the bar and shoved the door hard.
As the metal door bounced off the brick wall outside, a shrill alarm cut through the air, startling him with its volume and sending him scrambling through the doorway. His heart stuttered in his chest as he ran for the corner of the building; he peered down the narrow street alongside Smitty’s. He figured if he could get to his car, he could get away much faster than on foot, especially since he wasn’t in any physical shape to be running. Even as the thought of his beat-up Cavalier flitted through his mind, he smacked at his pants pockets, searching for his keys. A low groan escaped his throat.
His keys were still in his jacket pocket. And his jacket was in his car.
“Oh, Christ on a cracker,” Gray muttered. He was screwed. Royally, truly screwed.
Gray crept down the short street to the corner of the building to get a look at the parking lot out front. He peeked around the corner cautiously, his fingers scraping the brick wall beside him, and shuddered. Those crazy people were everywhere; there was no way he would be able to even cross the parking lot without at least one of them spotting him. And he’d stupidly left the only weapon he’d had in his possession on the floor inside Smitty’s. He desperately wished he had the pool cue in his hands right then.
Gray took another half-step forward, and his car came into view. The moment he saw the vehicle, he knew that trying to gain access to his car would be physically impossible; there were simply too many of the crazy people—zombies, his brain suggested again—gathered around and near it. A couple of them were even leaning over the side of the car, pushing and shoving each other as they fought to lap at the red fluid staining the window and driver’s door. April’s blood. Gray swallowed the bite of nausea threatening the back of his throat and inhaled shallowly through his nose so he wouldn’t vomit at the sight.
Gray slunk back into the darkness of the side street, trembling. He leaned against the building and breathed in, slowly and deeply, trying to calm himself. He was going to have to run; there was no question about that. He wasn’t going to be able to get into his own car, and the chances of him getting a ride from a stranger without getting shot were slim to none—he knew he wouldn’t have given a random person a lift in the midst of the chaos flooding over Plantersville. He’d told Theo to come get him at Smitty’s. He was going to have to call him back to tell him to meet him elsewhere instead.
Gray heard an odd shuffling, scraping sound, like someone dragging his heels across gritty pavement. He took a deep, almost panicked breath and, before he even focused on the oncoming threat, ran for the end of the street. He cut left and headed as fast as he could for his apartment building.
As he ran, Gray felt in his pocket for his cell phone, ripping it free and flipping it open. His fingers glided blindly over the keypad, finding the bump on the five before shifting up to the two. As he dodged a man coming at him from a storefront, he held the button down, directing the phone to speed-dial Theo’s number.
It took six rings for Theo to answer, six agonizing rings that sent Gray’s heart falling into his stomach in the horrible fear that Theo wouldn’t answer. But then he did, his voice coming over the earpiece muffled and breathless, but blessedly alive. “Gray?”
“Oh thank God,” Gray said. His voice was strained as he sucked in another frantic breath and jumped over a trash can lying abandoned in the middle of the sidewalk.
“Where are you? Are you okay?” Theo asked before Gray could say anything further. “You sound awful.”
“Running,” Gray explained. He glanced at a corner street sign as he passed it, noting where he was and that he had entirely too far left to run. “My place. Heading there. Meet me, okay?”
“You shouldn’t be
running—”
“Had to,” Gray managed. His breathing was already coming shorter in his lungs as he passed the half-mile point. He felt at his pockets again with his free hand, hoping he’d have his inhaler handy. He didn’t. It was probably in his jacket. Which was, of course, in his car. “They got in.”
“Fuck,” Theo said simply.
“My thoughts too.” Gray checked one more time for his inhaler, as if it would miraculously turn up in a pocket he’d already checked. His lungs hurt like hell; he would be surprised if he made it all the way to his apartment. “Just get to my place. Please,” he added, fighting to get more air into his lungs. “I’m going to need your help.” He didn’t wait for his brother’s response. He simply hung up, shoved the phone back into his pocket, and tried to speed up his mad dash.
It took far longer than Gray wanted to get to his apartment building. By then, a deep, tight ache had settled into his chest. In the lobby, he jabbed the elevator call button repeatedly, slamming his fist against the button. He took bare seconds to scan the building’s lobby and note that there wasn’t a single person anywhere in sight. He was, in a way, relieved; it meant he was less likely to run into some crazy bastard intent on killing him, but at the same time, if he passed out in the lobby from lack of oxygen, he’d be pretty well up the creek without help.
The elevator finally arrived, the cool steel doors sliding open. Gray flung himself inside and punched the third-floor button. His heart raced painfully, and he squeezed his eyes closed and sagged against the wall as the elevator made its ascent. He prayed that Theo would get there soon, that he’d make it to the apartment before Gray collapsed. He was sure there were no more inhalers in his apartment; Theo wouldn’t have filled his prescription if there had been. He mentally ran through the different home remedies his mom had used when he was a kid and had been fighting near-constant minor asthma attacks that would hit him without warning. Coffee, black coffee, he remembered. Two cups. And something about hot water too. And breathing out heavily through his mouth to try to push out carbon dioxide. He wasn’t sure if that part was true, but he vaguely remembered reading it somewhere. Regardless of its validity, he started trying to breathe, taking in short breaths and letting out long, heavy ones as the elevator slowly dragged to a stop with a squeak and groan of the cables. The doors slid open noisily.
Before Gray could step out of the elevator, a man darted inside. He pushed Gray against the back of the elevator with enough force to drive what little breath he had left in his lungs right out of them. He put his hands out defensively as the man grabbed at his throat. Gray let out a weak cry of alarm and shoved hard; he managed to get enough precious space between them to work his leg up and put his knee into the man’s gut. The impact sent the man stumbling wildly backward, to the edge of the elevator. Gray took another fast step forward and kicked him again. He caught the man’s head in his hands and drove his knee into the man’s face as hard as he could. The sound of cartilage and bone snapping met his ears, and sharp pain darted through Gray’s knee. The man collapsed onto the floor, and Gray started stomping, slamming the heel of his shoe as hard as he could directly onto the man’s face. When the man had completely stopped moving, Gray pushed past the ache in his knee and stepped over the man, heading for his apartment door. It took him only seconds to recover the spare key taped to the top edge of the doorframe—he’d never worried about break-ins, as he didn’t own anything worth stealing, not even a television—and then he was inside, slamming the door closed and throwing the locks home.
Gray slumped against the closed door for only a moment before he forced himself forward. He leaned heavily on the wall and pushed himself along it as he made for the bathroom, hoping that a spare inhaler would be in the medicine cabinet. But as his world began to spin sickeningly around him, he knew he wasn’t going to make it that far. He managed a few more steps before he sank to his knees, panic invading his mind as he struggled desperately to breathe.
Chapter 10
Theo was shaking with overexertion when he finally reached Gray’s apartment building, his nerves getting the better of him as the fears that had accumulated during his race to his brother’s side spiraled out of control. It had thankfully not been too hard of a journey for him to get from the ambulance to the apartment; he had spent most of his time practicing the simple avoidance of everyone and everything he’d seen—animals included. He didn’t know if whatever was causing people to act insane was affecting animals too, and so he’d decided to play it safe and take no chances.
The lobby was devoid of life when he stepped inside, his shoulders and back aching from the weight of the trauma bags. He stood in the doorway of the main entrance, examining every visible nook and cranny and dark-shaded corner in sight, making sure nothing lurked, waiting for him to pass. Then he cast a glance at the ceiling. The lights were still on. For some reason, Theo had expected the electricity to be out; he figured that if the chaos outside escalated, it would only be a matter of time until that happened. Heaving a sigh, he nodded in an attempt to reassure himself and moved forward, heading to the elevator at his right.
Theo pressed the elevator’s call button and shifted the bag on his right shoulder, trying to balance it better against his back and squeezing the axe’s handle. As he waited impatiently for the elevator to arrive, his blue eyes repeatedly flickering to the display above the elevator doors, his worries over Gray churned in his stomach, making him feel nauseated. “Come on, you fucking elevator,” he muttered. He slapped his hand hard against the call button and then looked at the display again. The red LED number still said “3”. Clearly, the elevator was stuck on the third floor. Theo sincerely hoped that that fact didn’t have anything to do with his younger brother.
Heaving a sigh and turning away from the elevator, Theo resigned himself to climbing the stairs. He shoved the stairwell door open and stepped inside, squinting in the flickering light from the fluorescent light bar above him; several moths buzzed around the light fixture, slamming themselves against the plastic covering. Frowning, Theo let the stairwell door fall shut and listened past the buzz of the lights and the thumps of the bugs for any noise. Nothing met his ears. It seemed the stairwell was empty of everything but him and the bugs.
Blowing out a heavy breath, Theo grasped the railing and started to climb the steps, taking them two at a time in as rapid an ascent as he dared. His heart was racing by the time he reached the third-floor landing. After a bout of uncertainty, he kicked the door open and burst through it, the axe ready to swing at whatever came at him. He stepped into the dim hallway with only a momentary hesitation and made straight for Gray’s apartment door.
As he approached the elevator, Theo slowed his rapid pace as he saw a body lying half inside the elevator, blocking the doors from closing. His pounding heart jammed itself into his throat. He swallowed hard, trying to stuff it back down, and took another step closer. As he got a clear look at the body lying there, a surge of relief ripped through him so powerfully that it nearly sent him to his knees.
The man on the floor was much older than Gray, maybe in his late thirties or early forties, his dark hair going salt and pepper. Theo didn’t recognize the man and didn’t have any way to; his face was bashed in, his nose shattered and the bones around his eyes and forehead visibly crushed. He took another step closer, contemplating checking to see if the man was alive. Then he shuddered and shook his head. No, he decided. There’s a reason this man is like this. Gray is more important.
Theo forced himself away from the body and moved to Gray’s door, knocking even as he dug his keys out of his pocket and thumbed the right one free. He slipped it into the lock, took a deep steadying breath, and turned the key. The lock snapped, and he pushed the door open. The hinges squeaked softly, and the door brushed against the carpeted entryway with a soft shushing sound.
The first thing Theo’s eyes registered was the darkness inside the apartment. He fleetingly wondered if Gray had actually made it to his ap
artment or if he was, God forbid, lying somewhere outside on the pavement, dead or dying. The thought sent a lightning bolt of fear through Theo, but he pushed it down and closed his eyes for a moment to listen carefully before he called out, “Gray?”
Gray knelt on the floor at the end of the hallway, slumped sideways with his head resting against the wall. Even from where he stood, Theo could see Gray struggling to breathe, his shoulders tight and tense, his hand pressed against the wall, fingers curled and blanched as if he were trying to claw his way into the sheetrock. “Fuck,” Theo muttered. He rushed forward and dropped to his knees in front of Gray. He offloaded the heavy bags from his shoulders, shoving them to the carpet beside him, and took his brother’s face in his hands, forcing Gray to look up at him. “Where is your inhaler?” he demanded. Gray merely shook his head and closed his eyes, pressing his faintly blue-tinted lips together.
Theo gritted his teeth and swore under his breath, grabbing one of the bags beside him. He unzipped it and dug deeply into it, sorting through the supplies and cursing himself for not taking the time to at least get some semblance of organization inside the bag. When he finally found a nebulizer and the medications he needed, he blew out a breath of relief. “You drive me fucking crazy sometimes, you know that?” he said as he prepared the nebulizer, hooked it to one of the pilfered O2 tanks, and cranked the tank to six liters. A soft hiss greeted his ears as the oxygen flooded into the mask. Once a white mist started to come from the mask, Theo promptly shoved it against Gray’s face. “Breathe, you stupid fucker.”
Gray somehow managed to give him a dirty look even as he put his hand on top of Theo’s, pushing the mask closer to his face, closing his eyes, and breathing in as deeply as his lungs would allow. Despite his irritation with Gray for doing something he should have known would make him ill, Theo smoothed a hand over the younger man’s dark hair before crushing him into a tight hug. Gray returned it, digging his fingers into Theo’s back.
Jessica Meigs - The Becoming Page 6