The Seventh Day (Book 2): The Last Hour

by Brown, Tara

  “Jesus, seriously? Of course you're fine.” She keeps the light on my shoulder where the bite is. I drag the cloth down for her to see it.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” I might have been offended but this isn’t the moment for that. There’s a sea of zombie biters running up the field.

  “Nothing,” she grumbles and brings the light a little closer without taking a step. “Is it already healing?”

  “I think so. All I know is I’m not one of them.” I point at the mob.

  “Weird.” She holds the light under her face like we’re two kids at summer camp. “Maybe you’re just too evil already, even the zombies don't want you.” She acts as though she’s kidding but only cracks a half grin. This isn’t really the time for jokes either.

  “Maybe.” I step closer, wondering if she’ll step aside or if she’ll leave me here to die. The look in her eyes suggests she’s also contemplating this. But after several seconds she steps sideways for me to walk in. She quickly closes the door and locks it when I walk past her. “So this is as far as you got?” I sigh, sitting down at the desk.

  “Yeah. I tried to leave but there are tons of them out there and we don't have a car. I rode my bike to work and it’s back there.” She points at the institute. “So I came here and tried phoning the police and fire but no one is answering anything. Then the others came and we scanned the channels on the radio until we found something, some kind of emergency broadcast.”

  “Emergency broadcast? What did it say?”

  “I think you were right.” Dread fills her tone and my stomach.

  “About what?” I’m usually right but most of the time it’s not a bad thing.

  “We think this is everywhere, Liam. Not just Florida, everywhere.”

  “How do you know?” My stomach aches a little more, like it used to when I was a kid.

  “The emergency broadcast. It said everyone needs to stay inside their houses and no one should go out. That leaving the house only makes it worse. And hospitals are full and can’t take any more patients. If your family member is sick you should isolate them and not go near them. The violent behavior only happens when they hear or see you. If you leave them alone, they will be calm.”

  “How do you know it’s everywhere?”

  “The message,” she pauses, “it was from the president. It was a national message.”

  “He spoke on the broadcast?” I ask.

  “Yeah. On repeat.” She seems as baffled as I am. “And then all the power went out. All we have here are the emergency lights with the generator backup and flashlights.”

  “What about cell phones?”

  “Nothing. The cell service went dead. Mine is a glorified flashlight now.” Her eyes narrow. “And photo album.”

  “Christ.” I have the strangest urge to wrap my arms around myself and hug, the way I did when I was little, but I don’t. I stand strong, ignoring my arms twitching with need. “What are we going to do?”

  “I don't know, honestly. I have no clue.” She looks into my eyes, hers glistening in the dim lighting.

  “Where’s your family live? I can take you to them.”

  She parts her lips to answer me but closes them, swallowing hard and glancing around us. “I don’t know if we should leave here.”

  “Jesus, I don't mean so I can murder them, Grace. I mean so you can check if they’re okay. Maybe they have a place you can hide.” I sigh. “I don’t have to stay. I can leave you and go on from there.”

  “I didn’t mean it like that.” Her brow furrows as if I’m the one who’s mistaken.

  “I’m not—I told you, you’re safe.” I meet her gaze and try to be as sincere as I can. For whatever reason, I have no intention of hurting Grace. If I’m honest with myself, I’ve only hurt people who had it coming. People I hated. “I’ll keep you safe.”

  “Alabama.” The word brings a hint of an accent. She hides her roots. It’s weird and curious and now I wanna know why. “They’re in Alabama.”

  “Do you want to go there and find them?”

  “No.” She scoffs. “I’m sure they’re fine.”

  Interesting.

  “Well, I’d say we could stay here, loads of food and supplies and medicine, but what do we do about them?” I point back at the horde out the window. “We don't even have guns.”

  “We need to get the hell out of here and find some military or something. We can’t stay here. There must be evacuations and a plan and help somewhere.”

  “We need guns.” I bite my lip and contemplate. “We should hit a Walmart or a sports store and come back here and kill everyone and live in the protected walls—”

  “Liam,” she cuts me off, giving me the horrified stare I’d hoped we wouldn’t have to revisit.

  “Yeah?”

  “Mass killing isn’t the answer. Keeping the creepy in check, remember?”

  “Okay.” I didn’t realize I’d said anything wrong. I can’t even trace back where I went astray in the conversation. It was all sane thinking to me. “So, you don’t want to come back here?” I’m a bit confused.

  “No. I know—knew these people. I can't just watch them die. I want to find somewhere else. Maybe military.” She says that again. “We need a car.”

  “There’s a lot of cars in the parking lot.” I glimpse behind her to where the staff park and to the desk next to us. I snatch her flashlight and start opening drawers and cupboards, rifling them.

  A loud bang hits the window, making us both jump. It’s one of the doctors. I don't know him, but he worked with Meredith a few times. He hits the window again and again, trying to get in.

  I grab the three-hole punch off the desk next to me and open the door wide. He lurches forward, trying to get past me as I slam the door shut. I swing hard, cracking him in the side of his skull with the punch. A gurgling noise comes from his throat, but his stare is fixed on Grace. I grab him and spin, and slam him into the wall. He hits and stumbles but turns for Grace, growling again as blood trickles down his face. It’s slower than it should be. I hit him a second time, knocking him down. Once he’s down, I use the three-hole punch and smash and smash and smash until someone screams.

  I lift my face, glancing at Grace.

  Her eyes are wide and her lip trembling. “Liam, stop!” The terror in her stare makes me feel something I don't think I like, as if maybe I’m one of them and I’m never gonna be one of her. I don't know why I wanna be like her, but I do. Or maybe I want her to be like me.

  Huffing my breath, I stand up and stagger back, staring at the blood gushing from his head. It stops midway and retreats, as if he’s bleeding backward. “What the fu—?”

  “What?” She gasps and follows my stare as I put the light on his head. “Oh my God, what—how?”

  “You see that too, right?—the blood going back into his head like ants are carrying it inside?” I blink several times, confused.

  “Yeah,” she finally answers but her words are breathy and strained.

  “What the hell?” I step back, feeling the same, breathy and strained. “How does it do that?” I shiver, though I’m not cold and drop the punch onto the floor, making her jump from the noise. Then I go back to him, not focusing on the blood flowing back in, but the eyes. I’m waiting for them to open back up and for him to come to life again and attack us.

  “I don’t know. I don’t know.” Her tone changes, she’s going to panic.

  “Let’s see if he has a car,” I change the subject before she starts screaming and crying. Leaning in, I rummage his pockets, finding keys, and grab Grace by the hand and fling open the guards’ door to the other side of the gate. The free side.

  The air smells sweeter and less stale here. I know it isn’t but it’s the first time in a long time that I've been on this side of the wall. Since the last time I escaped.

  I pause a moment, my eyes flashing to the movement coming toward us, ready to fight.

  The shadow is huge but a silly grin crosses my lips w
hen I see him. “Lester, you’re alive?” The smile fades fast. He’s with Celia. One of them is exactly who I want on my team and the other is the last person I imagined would make it this far.

  “I think we should stay at the guardhouse. I think you—I don't think you—” Celia’s eyes are wide but she can’t say it. She wants to tell me that Lester and I don't belong in the real world but she can’t say it. She’s scared. I spot the whistle on her neck and grin. It’s lost all its power. She no longer has a lynch squad. “You should stay until the authorities come.”

  Lester nods at me. God forbid he actually says something. Pasty ape.

  “What?” I ask her to repeat it, though I heard it perfectly.

  “You should stay—we should stay, for the authorities. There will be protocols—”

  “I’m not staying in there and neither is he.” I point at Lester. “This place is done, overrun. Everyone inside is dead. Undead. And leaving us in there is essentially killing us, which you don't have the authority to do.”

  “How are you still you? Grace said you were bit.” Celia swallows again, trying to change the subject and deescalate me.

  “I did. It didn’t take.” I growl the answer, giving Lester a grin. “You ready to smash some heads, buddy?”

  He grunts. I have to assume it’s a yes grunt.

  “You and Lester can’t go out there. I can’t allow that.” Celia tries to use her big-girl voice, but I hear that tiny whisper of doubt. Man, it sounds good to hear the quiver.

  “Celia, I’m gonna give you three options.” I take a menacing step toward her, noticing how tiny she really is as I tower over her. “One, I kill you right now and end this misery for you and me. I’ve daydreamed about killing you for a while, so it won’t even require my imagination.” I stare right in her eyes for the rest. “Two, and I can see from your frightened little stare, the first option isn’t the one you’re picking, so listen carefully to option two. You come with us and shut the hell up. Or three, again I don't think you’ll be a fan, we leave you here to be eaten. I won’t lose sleep over it, but I would prefer killing you myself—”

  “Liam—” Grace steps toward me.

  “I told you, you don't have anything to worry about.” I stare at Grace but point at Celia. “She doesn't have the same promise.”

  Lester grunts and moves in front of Celia, clearly not understanding her role in our lives. Celia sighs, relieved that the pasty ape will defend her.

  “Stalemate.” I nod. “Interesting.” My gaze flickers to Celia’s. “I’d still recommend the ‘shutting the hell up’ option. If you want to stay alive, don't annoy me. He might not be someone I want to end, but if I have to, anything’s possible. And we both know brains always win over brawn.”

  She nods once, agreeing to the terms. Something I didn't expect would happen so easily.

  “We have a car.” I hold the keys up and head for the parking lot, pressing the button until headlights flicker in the sea of cars.

  I hurry to the vehicle, a Mercedes, of course. I haven’t driven one of these in ages, but like the last time, this one is going to be stolen too. I start the car with the push button and glance at Grace as she gets in the front seat next to me, her eyes doing that nervous thing. “Where to?”

  “Walmart is about five miles from here. You’re right, we need guns.” She shudders as a herd of the biters makes their way to us. "Guns are more humane." I assume watching me beat the doctor to death was hard on her.

  “Tell me the way.” I pull out of the parking spot, unable to avoid peeking at the hospital in my rearview, even though I said I wouldn’t.

  Chapter Four

  The highway is littered with cars and trucks and dead people, both standing and lying down. The standing ones come to life as we fly by them, chasing the car like a dog, like they have a hope.

  “This is insane. It’s like a cheesy made-for-TV movie.” I scan around, speeding along.

  “Where is everyone?” Grace asks.

  “Either evacuated or dead,” I guess. “But there’s no way we can go on the interstate,” I mutter to Grace.

  “No. I bet it’s blocked up, bumper to bumper,” Celia agrees.

  “And I bet a lot of accidents. I’ve seen countless and we’ve only been driving for five minutes.” Grace turns and nods at her. “It’ll be worse where there are more cars. That’s the Walmart. The sign isn’t glowing like it should be. But the store appears open with cars filling the parking lot.”

  “Maybe we should rethink this.” Celia gulps. “Maybe those cars belong to biters.”

  “Maybe,” I whisper.

  Celia’s right, unfortunately.

  Driving into the parking lot slowly with the running lights switched off, I get a better view of the situation.

  The lights in the parking lot are lit, solar powered. And in the glow, we see the undead around the front door, in a group. Some are stuck in the doors that are partly open. They’re all doing the creepy swaying in.

  I drive by slowly and park in the back where no one else is, not wanting to get too close to the horde at the front door.

  “We should find another Walmart.” Grace shakes her head.

  "If you don't make sounds they don't wake up," Celia offers.

  "Yeah, but if they do wake up, whoever goes in is dead," Grace points out.

  “We need to get guns before we can get out of here. I can be quiet enough to sneak through them. You guys wait here. I’ll go open the side door and bring supplies."

  "This is a terrible idea." Grace is worried about me. Interesting.

  "No time like the present to test out if I’m immune to this brand of crazy,” I joke halfheartedly and climb out, giving Grace a look as I take the keys. “In case you decide to leave me behind.”

  “I wouldn't do that, Liam,” she lies. I know she would. In fact, I don't expect her to be here when I get back. But the car will be.

  “We’ll see.” I wink and close the door quietly.

  Not one of them offers to come with me or gets out of the car.

  I know what that means.

  Not that I’m surprised.

  The fun part of being studied like a wild animal is that you get to understand the doctors better than they understand you. They don't think you’re smart enough to do much, you’re always underestimated. I like being underestimated. Every person I’ve ever killed underestimated me.

  Creeping through the alley next to the huge building, I stay quiet. I am not making the same mistake. I’m not underestimating the horde.

  Before heading to the front of the store, I try the doors all along the side of the building but none have been left unlocked, of course.

  I consider giving up and going back to the car, but I don’t want Celia to think I’m a chicken, or she has the upper hand by seeing me weak. My feet keep moving but my eyes peer back.

  At the front, by the entrance to the parking lot, I slip into the shadows and watch the horde. They’re doing the standing sleeping thing, swaying with the breeze I don't feel. I tell myself that if I’m quiet enough, I can sneak past them. I’m pretty quiet.

  Back at the car, Grace and Celia and the giant lug, Lester, all sit in silence, staring at me, making my stomach hurt. They’re not talking or moving. They’re watching, waiting for me to make my move so they can make theirs.

  I slink around the corner into the employee smoking area and wait, listening intently. I focus on where they are, not the dead but where the car is. I wait for the noise I know I’m going to hear.

  When it comes, when the sound of a door opening sneaks into the night air, it hits hard, punching me in the guts.

  “Hurry up,” one of the them whispers, I assume it’s Celia.

  “We should wait for him to come back. This is a bad idea,” Grace whispers. I can’t believe how loud they’re being. The dead will be awake in no time.

  Lester grunts like he’s climbing out of the backseat he never really fit in. They close the door loudly and walk awa
y, not paying attention to their steps.

  My stomach sinks.

  I haven’t felt this way in a long time, not just disappointed but also abandoned. The back of my mother’s head as she walked away flashes in my mind before I get control and shut it down.

  I turn and tiptoe to the corner where the horde is waiting, swaying. For a second I contemplate leaving, forgetting the guns. It lasts a second and then I continue to make my way to them. Sweat forms on my brow as I walk so lightly I might be floating.

  They’re spaced well enough apart that in the beginning I can slip through them.

  I don't breathe or swallow or make any noise. I creep. My fingers tremble, my heart races, and sweat drips but I manage to stay silent.

  As I’m halfway, I pause, staring at the disgusting wound on some guy’s face. Clearly, a few people got at him. Seeing him reminds me of the way the blood flowed back inside the doctor’s head. Something isn’t right with these people, not just a virus or a disease, something else. It’s like robot blood or something.

  The eyes are closed and the body is resting, even though they’re standing. It’s ominous.

  Maybe it’s aliens.

  Do I believe in aliens?

  The better question is, am I in a position to question anything?

  A loud bang makes me jump and turn as the eyes around me spring to life. They’re bloodshot and wide, scanning the group around them, each other and me. Without breathing or moving my head, I dart my eyes over to where a car in the parking lot has exploded by the Dollar Tree. Flames shoot into the night sky, lighting up that part of the lot.

  The heads spin and the mouths open as they twist around and run for the flames.

  Lester is doing his moronic jog around the back of a hair salon that shares the parking lot with Walmart.

  They blew the car up with me in the middle of the horde?

  They’re trying to kill me instead of abandoning me?