by Gayle Katz
“Thanks for saving me back there,” I say with a quiver in my voice.
He smiles at me.
“I do what I can to help. Our tools here are a bit limiting, but that’s probably because it’s a radio station and not an armory. It would have been easier if I had a gun,” he says. “My dad and I used to go hunting. He had a whole arsenal. It would be nice to have one of those guns right now.”
I’m freaked out talking about guns. What if he had a gun, tried to shoot a zombie, and hit me instead? Instead of letting my fear show, I simply say, “I’m not sure where we can find a gun on campus. We might be stuck using these more primitive weapons, unfortunately.”
“Well, we’ll just have to make them work.”
I smile.
“I guess I should cut the rest of this off, right?” I say as I touch what is left of my hair. “I wouldn’t want that to happen again. Plus my hair stinks now.”
We come to the door of the lounge. Jack removes the chair barrier and opens it. Nothing has changed. Jayce is still pinned to the wall with the antennas through him. Abigail is making growling sounds and moving around on the chair. She is still securely fastened to it, but just to be safe, we tape her down with another layer of duct tape. We also put another piece over her mouth to muffle the sounds she’s making.
After looking at our handiwork, we exit the lounge, replace the chair to secure the door, and make our way to the radio station’s main office area.
“Wait here,” he says. ”I’ll see if I can find scissors so we can actually cut your hair and not just shred it. OK?”
“OK. That sounds good.”
Jack starts searching the office desks and closets. He says, “We also should talk about those mysterious text messages you’ve been getting. While you’re waiting, try calling the police again.”
“Will do,” I say.
I dial the police on the main landline and still get the fast busy signal. I figure I’ll pull out my cell phone and try calling them again. Busy signal.
“These phones are worthless,” I mumble.
“What?” Jack says.
Frustrated, I don’t respond.
Sitting on the desk, I smell that familiar smell and hear a faint, moaning sound. I look down at my feet and can’t believe what I see.
It’s Jayce. I thought we killed him, but I guess we didn’t. He still has the antennas sticking out of his chest, but now they’re being dragged along the floor. He’s left a trail of dark red, almost black blood behind him. It’s something out of a horror movie.
“He’s not dead!” I shout over to Jack as I pull my legs back up on top of the desk.
“What? He’s not dead? Crap!” Jack says as he sees me pointing to Jayce on the floor, “OK, back to the newsroom.”
Before we leave the office, Jack pulls the antennas out of Jayce’s chest. He hands one to me and is about to plunge the other one into his skull.
Just then, we hear a cracking sound from above. With antenna in hand, he backs away from Jayce and pulls me aside. The attic floor above gives way, dumping all its contents—Nora and Connor included—through the ceiling and into the office with us, crushing Jayce at the same time. We run to the perimeter of the room to avoid being caught in the cave-in.
I knew the radio station is falling apart, but this is ridiculous. The force of the impact from the collapse of the attic breaks clean through our main floor as well and into the basement, bringing all except Jack and me along for the ride.
The office now has what seems like a yawning chasm with destruction all around. Gazing down into the hole below reveals the rubble of splintered wood, items, and bodies. It looks like a tornado has just blown through.
Jack jumps down on to the collapsed rubble to get to the basement.
“Don’t leave me alone,” I plead.
Kowtowing to my wishes, part-way down he stops, grabs my hand, and helps me down to the basement. Immediately, we see Logan and Bill are startled, but fine. All four of us rush over to Nora and Connor. Both are unconscious and bloodied. Their chests are rising and falling, but they aren’t moving, and their breathing seems faint.
“Jesus Christ. What was that?” I ask.
“This building is a dump. That’s what that was,” Logan says.
Bill gives him a disgusted look and says, “I told them to be careful up there!”
“That crash made a really loud noise. If those things didn’t know we were here before, they do now,” Jack says.
“Sh. Be quiet. Listen. Do you hear anything?” I say.
After a long pause, we all look at each other. Everything is quiet.
“We can’t stay here. We need to keep moving. See if we can get off campus or if we can find any help. That’s the only way we’re gonna make it out of this mess,” Jack says.
“What about Nora and Connor? They need our help,” Bill says, looking down at their broken bodies.
“Yeah. They do, but we can’t help them right now. We need to find help first and come back. OK?”
“OK,” Bill says.
“Good. OK.” Jack thinks for a moment. “If we’re gonna brave the elements and whatever those things are running around out there, we’re gonna need to be prepared. Grab your backpacks and fill ’em up with supplies like flashlights, batteries, food, water, and anything we can use as weapons.”
We all run upstairs to grab our backpacks. While everybody starts running around the station filling them up, I stand there looking at my backpack. Jack comes over to me.
“Problem?”
“I’m not gonna be able to fit much in my backpack. I have my books and my makeup taking up a lot of room.”
Jack looks at me and smiles.
“Are you joking?”
“No.”
He grabs my bag and dumps it upside down. My books, my professor’s pen, my homework, and my makeup crash to the floor.
Completely dejected, looking at all my stuff on the floor, I ask, “What are you doing?”
“I’m making room in your bag,” he says as he hands it back to me. “Plenty of room now.”
“Um. Thanks? Do you know how much I spent on books this semester? Do you have any clue how expensive my makeup is?”
“I’m not sure it’ll matter if you’re dead. Make sure to take the duct tape too. We’ll probably need it,” he says.
“Yeah, yeah. Fine.”
“Oh, and here’s your walkie-talkie. I’ll have one too. In case we get split up, these should help.” He winks.
I smile at him. That’s sweet. I guess he really cares about what happens to me.
“What about this?” I say as I point to my hair, picking up a section of it to show how uneven and gross it is.
“Ah. Yes,” he replies. “Let me grab the scissors I found in the office. While I’m gone, start filling up your backpack.”
As Jack runs off, I skip over my heavy textbooks and grab my makeup, my professor’s pen, and my notebook from the floor and put them back at the bottom of my bag.
“If he thinks I’m leaving them here, he’s mistaken,” I say to myself, smiling.
Jack quickly returns as I’m tossing a couple rolls of duct tape, a pack of batteries, an extra flashlight, a six-pack of water, and a couple packs of prepackaged survival food—beef jerky, and granola bars—into my bag. I hope we won’t be out here looking for help for too long. I also grab my makeshift metal desk leg weapon, and I’m ready to go. No matter what Jack says, I can’t leave my makeup behind or my notebook. It’s a collection of all of my writing and homework. I can buy the books again, but I can’t easily recreate all my words. No one will know if I sneak it along with the supplies.
“OK, how should we do this?” he asks, looking at my hair.
“It doesn’t need to be perfect. Just cut off the sticky hair with zombie goo on it. You can also get rid of the hair that’s longer and try to make it the same length as the shorter sections. If it’s not even, it’s not the end of the world. And if it is the end of
the world, it really doesn’t matter what my hair looks like, right?”
I can feel him move behind me. He’s touching my hair. I assume he’s scoping out what he’s going to cut. It’s an odd feeling having him behind me, but each time he touches me it feels so good. Each touch gives me the tingles.
Jack takes his time but finally starts to cut. Snip. Snip. Snip. My hair starts falling to the floor. He’s caressing my neck, making sure my hair length matches as best as it can.
“It’s gonna be short,” he warns.
“That’s cool,” I say. “Just make sure no one else can grab a fistful of my hair.”
A few more cuts here and there, and my hair is finished. We don’t have time to admire his handiwork. Abigail is making those awful noises again, and her zombie friends have returned. They’re banging on the back door. It’s so loud.
“Shit! That’s not good,” Jack says. “Hurry! Are you all packed? Don’t forget to bundle up too. It’s freezing out there.”
“Yeah. Wait!” I shout to Jack as I run through Studio Two to Studio One. “I need to tell Wyatt our plan. He can help. He can come with us.”
I bust through the door to Studio One. Startled, Wyatt jumps.
“We’re ready to go. Come with us.”
“I’d love to, but people need me here. People have been calling in, and it helps if there’s someone here to talk to them, ya know?”
“What? What are you saying? I understand your good intentions, but there’s no point in your staying here. We’re not sure how long it’s gonna take us to reach help,” I plead with him.
“I’m not going with you.”
“You’re staying?”
He nods.
Sadly, I hand him the walkie-talkie Jack gave to me.
“Keep in touch with us on this, OK?”
“Definitely,” Wyatt replies.
“And make sure the doors here to Studio One are secure and locked.”
“They’re heavy metal, so I should be fine. Plus, the windows are Plexiglas. No one is getting through them,” he says quite confidently.
I just continue to stare at him. I want to remember his face, just in case it’s the last time I see him. He isn’t looking at me but at the walkie-talkie I just handed him.
“This is giving me an idea,” he says, tapping the device. “If anyone calls in with information or needing help, I can pass all that info along to you. I’ll be your ears and voice and relay what I find out, OK?” He kisses my forehead.
“OK. Are you sure you won’t reconsider?”
“I’ve made up my mind. It’s time for you to go. Now go!”
I concur, look at him, take his hand, and tell him we’ll be back for him as soon as possible.
He nods and smiles.
“I like the new hair,” he says.
We hug. I run out of Studio One and watch him lock the door behind me. I rejoin the group.
“Where’s Wyatt?” Jack asks.
“He’s not coming. He wants to stay on the air to help,” I reply.
“That gives me an idea. Logan! Bill! Come with me. We gotta take care of something before we leave,” Jack says as he grabs my hand.
The four of us all pack and get ready to go back to the collapsed office area. Nora and Connor are still in the rubble. They hadn’t moved at all. Jack jumps down to them. He listens to their breathing. It’s faint, but they’re still alive.
“Here. Help me. Grab Nora,” Jack says.
Logan grabs her shoulders, and Jack grabs her legs. Her body seems limp and broken in their arms. They take her into Studio One with Wyatt. Jack comes back, and Bill helps him carry Connor. I follow. As I enter Studio One again, I hear Wyatt in the middle of a conversation with Logan.
“Are you sure they’re not gonna get up and bite me while I’m on the air?” Wyatt asks as he watches their chests rise and fall.
“They aren’t bitten, so you don’t need to worry about that,” Logan says.
“Everything will be cool, Wyatt. When we find help, we’ll be back for you as soon as we’re able,” Jack says confidently. “Are you sure you won’t change your mind?”
“I think I can do more good here.”
“Let’s move it then,” Jack says to the rest of us as he clutches his makeshift weapon. “We can’t wait any longer. Ready to go?”
Chapter 7
________________________________________
2:00 p.m.
“Which way should we go? Basement? Attic? The main door?” Logan asks.
“I vote for the attic,” I say. “It’s gotta be better than being face-to-face with whatever is running around out there.”
Jack nods. “Yeah. Sounds like a plan. We may be able to see better higher up too.”
“Just please, please, please be careful where you step,” Bill says. “The attic was never finished and depending on where we step, we could fall through just like Nora and Connor did. Just walk on the beams.”
“Someone’s gotta walk in front of me so I know where to go,” I say.
“Maybe we should consider another exit,” Logan chimes in. “It won’t help us if we end up breaking our necks.”
“She’ll be OK,” Jack says, “I’ll walk in front of her, and Bill knows this building pretty well, right? We’ll be fine. The other exits really aren’t options. They lead to ground level, and I don’t want to deal with those things until we absolutely have to.”
“OK. The attic it is. Just be careful. Take small steps and try to be light on your feet. No stomping. Try to just step on the beams. They’re much stronger than those flimsy floorboards,” Bill says, then adds: “I almost forgot. If we’re gettin’ outta here by rooftop, we’re gonna need some rope.”
“Rope? Why rope?” I ask.
“We'll be over two stories up. How do you suppose we’re gonna get down off the roof? Jump?”
Bill runs to get rope from the maintenance closet.
“Once we hit the roof, let’s check out the police station and the infirmary first and see what’s happening there before we head off,” Jack says. "If everything is a mess, then we’ll make our way to North Campus for Jane’s professor’s 4x4.”
“What if there’s no 4x4? Shouldn’t we have a backup plan or something?” Logan asks.
“Hm. Yeah. We should. What about those big-ass snowplows? It’s snowing. Those should be in good shape, right? Maybe we should split up to give us a better chance at getting out of here and finding help?” Bill asks after he returns with rope.
“Hey, yeah. That’s a good idea. Jane and I will head north. You and Logan head, um, where are the snowplows?”
“West Campus. I used to help out and plow snow for extra cash. We just need to get there, and we’ll be cool,” Logan says.
The banging at the back door is getting louder.
“OK. We have our plan. Up the stairs to the attic. Go. Go. Go. Be careful. Look for the hatch.” Jack hurries us along.
Bill goes up first, then Jack, then me, and Logan is pulling up the rear. The stairs to the attic are not sturdy and feel far from solid beneath my feet. Keeping a keen eye on where Jack steps so I can follow, I feel like I am going to fall through the floor just like Nora and Connor did.
As we trek across the attic, I see the huge hole Nora and Connor left when they fell. Please don’t let us fall. It feels like forever as we step from beam to beam, testing out each beam before we put our full weight on it, just waiting for it to break.
Bill whispers back that he has made it to the hatch.
“It’s stuck,” he says.
“Is it locked? Do you have to slide it?” Jack asks.
“Yeah, but it’s stuck. Rusted is more like it.”
“Move over,” Jack says.
He gets the cast-iron pan he retrieved from Connor’s backpack and hits the latch hard with it. The latch breaks right off.
“There you go,” he says.
Jack flips open the hatch to take a peek on the roof. As his head pokes out above, I
have a perfect glimpse at the rest of his body close-up. I know we’re in a time of crisis, but I can still admire the view, right? As he stretches to see what’s happening, his body tenses against his clothing. What am I thinking about? Gotta focus on not falling through the floor.
Jack stoops down and gives us the thumbs up. He proceeds through the hatch. Once through, he extends his hand to help me up. Bill and Logan are behind me.
The roof is covered with snow and ice. It’s freezing. It’s slippery too. As I move over a bit to let Bill and Logan up, I trip and start sliding to the edge of the roof.
I try to grab hold of something, but there isn’t anything to grab onto. The roof is too slick. Shit. It’s a long way down from the roof. I’m going to break my leg or my neck or worse. Either way, those things will get me.
“Grab my feet, guys, and hold on!” I hear Jack shout.
Jack is tall, so he is able to stretch out and reach me as Logan and Bill hold onto him. He grabs the hood of my coat before I fall off. As I am momentarily sitting on the edge of the roof, I look down past the icicles, and I see a swarm of those things rushing the back door. They look horrible. Pale, gray skin. Dirty dried blood plastered on their faces and clothes. Scared, I reach behind me as best I can, and Jack grabs my hand.
“I’ve got you,” he says softly. “I’ve got you.”
Freaked out, I say, “Those things just broke through the door. I just saw them.”
He pulls me close, and the four of us sit quietly for a moment. My phone buzzes again.
“Is that another text message? Jack asks.
I take my backpack off and get my phone out.
“Yeah. It’s another one.”
“What’s this one say?”
I know what you’re doing. It won’t work. Come to me or I promise I’ll come for you. You can’t ignore me anymore.
“Who thinks you’re ignoring them?”
Just then, Jack’s other walkie-talkie clicks on. It’s Wyatt.
“Jane, I just want to let you know I’m fine.”
Jack hands me his walkie-talkie and shows me which button to push to talk.