by Lora Powell
Evie had always complained that the heating vents to her bedroom and the bathroom were somehow connected. She insisted that my occasional morning singing in the shower came through the vent like I was in the room with her. I found myself now hoping that she had not been exaggerating. If I could fool the two of them into going into the bedroom, it might buy me enough time to beat them downstairs and out of the house.
Outside, the street appeared abandoned at the moment. My plan actually working also rested on not getting cornered by a hoard as soon as I ran outside. The timing would have to be perfect.
Heart racing like a Thoroughbred, I decided that there wasn't going to be a better time than now. Climbing up onto the toilet so I could press my lips right up to the vent, I began to whisper. The trick would be to attract their attention to the noise in Evie's room without attracting them to the bathroom door.
After a few more seconds of my mumbling, I increased the volume slightly. The pacing footsteps in the hall suddenly stopped. Cringing, hoping that this would work, I kept going. A short yelping scream sounded right outside the bathroom door. I was just about to abandon the plan as idiotic, when whoever was outside the door bolted into Evie's room.
A crash sounded directly on the other side of the wall from where I perched atop the toilet. A guttural growl came through the heat vent, followed by a scrabbling sound against the wall. I kept making noise, trying to decipher if they were both in there. It would do me no good if they weren't both in that room.
A scream blasted through the vent, followed closely by a second. It had sounded like two separate people. I hesitated, panic freezing my limbs, fearful about what I was about to do. More frantic clawing at the wall finally convinced me to climb down off of that toilet. This may be my only chance to escape the room.
Scissors gripped tightly in a hand gone numb, I crept to the door. A last look to the vented wall, and I clicked the lock. As expected, the sound of the lock disengaging was horrifyingly loud. There was not much chance that they hadn't heard. Flinging the door open, I bolted into the hallway and raced for the stairs.
Bounding down the stairs, I was nearly to the bottom when the screaming entered the hallway above me. They knew that I was down there. I hit the tile in the entryway, skidded toward my keys that thankfully still lay on the small stand by the door, and hurled myself upon the lock.
My gasping breath started to sound a lot like strangled sobs as I fumbled with the locked door. A loud banging behind me, cost me precious seconds as I turned to see. Evie, eyes locked on me with frightening intensity, tumbled down the stairs to land in a heap just feet away. Behind her came Austin. My breath caught in my throat at the sight of him.
Covered in blood, his shirt ripped practically all of the way off, he stumbled over a length of his own intestine and landed on top of a just getting to her feet Evie.
Full on sobbing now, the lock finally gave to my trembling hands, and I threw myself out the door, slamming it behind me just in time for one of my pursuers to crash into the other side. Spinning around, I clutched my keys and ran for my car. Furious screams rang from inside the house and I was sure they would attract unwanted attention before long.
Sneakers pounding down the driveway, movement out of the corner of my eye spurred me on. I clicked the unlock button as I ran, opened the door and bolted inside. Slamming my hand down on the door lock, I looked through the window as a pot bellied man with grey hair and lifeless eyes raced across my lawn and slammed his gore smeared face against my window.
SIX-DAY 4
The older man stared through the window with bloodshot eyes, low growls vibrating from his chest, hands stained a rusty brown pressed to the glass. I suddenly wished fervently for the scissors that I had previously been unsure I could use, but I had lost them in my struggle to unlock the front door.
I couldn't stay sitting out in the open like this. My car was effective in keeping out one crazed person, but more would come and I wasn't sure it would stand up to a mob. I was shaking so hard that I missed the ignition the first time I tried to get the key in. The second attempt wasn't much better, as a scream from the man a foot away from my ear made me jump.
The third time was the charm. Thankful that my paranoid visions of the car inexplicably not starting did not come true, I shifted into reverse and backed out of the driveway. The car crunched over a foot on the way out and I reflexively flinched at the sound, but the guy didn't react, just kept pace with my window with an even more exaggerated gait than before.
What was wrong with everyone that made them impervious to pain? Evie had not been bothered by her tumble down our stairs, whoever this guy was didn't notice a broken foot, and I didn't even want to think about the horrifying injuries I'd seen on Austin.
That word I was trying to ignore whispered in the depths of my mind again. Shifting, I got out of there in a squeal of tires.
It soon became obvious that whatever was going on, it was happening all over town. Everywhere my car went, I attracted immediate attention from bloody, screaming people. I ended up having to drive across the high school football field to get away from a group of dozens who almost managed to bog down my car.
I was reluctant to actually run anyone over. It was while I was bumping my way over the track that circled the football field that I realized that someone on the radio may have a clue what was going on. Blaming lack of food and sleep for my sluggish thinking, I reached for the radio knob.
"... advise all residents to stay indoors and keep their windows and doors locked. Do not open the doors for anyone unknown or exhibiting symptoms of the virus. The infected are considered highly contagious and contact with blood should be avoided. If someone in your home may be ill, it is recommended they be taken to the nearest emergency treatment facility. Residents should expect to be in their homes for up to two weeks. Water, food, and medications for everyone in your home should be gathered. Check back in to this broadcast frequently for any updates."
That annoying beep that always accompanies emergency broadcasts blared as I dodged a woman in her housecoat who was missing a conspicuous amount of flesh from her neck. I was starting to see the validity of the warning to stay inside. Every turn I made seemed to only find more people who wanted to attack me. I was going to need to find someplace to hide.
But where?
Going back to my own house was not an option. I didn't have a lot of family, we weren't close, and none of them lived anywhere nearby anyhow. My friends were limited to 'work friends'. We saw each other five days a week, talked amicably over lunch, but that was it. I had no idea where any of them even lived.
Unconsciously, I found myself driving a roundabout route towards my office building. I really had no good place to go. Once I realized where I had been driving, however, I pushed a little harder on the gas. It had been the weekend when this whole disaster started. The building should be empty, and I was one of the employees who happened to have a key to the back door.
The numbers of sick people increased as I drove further into town. Running along, shrieking at each other and me, they drew more attention than I liked. By the time I made the last turn onto my work street, there were enough people giving chase to fill my rearview mirror.
The alley leading to the back door was barely wide enough to fit my car. I'd forgotten about the dumpster that all of the businesses used back there.
Halfway down the alley, I wasn't driving any further. Snatching the keys, I leaped from the car. The hair raising sounds coming from the way too close for comfort mob behind me told me that I had seconds before the first of them reached my car.
I raced toward the plain steel door as the sounds of people bouncing off of my car hit my ears. The car would slow the masses down, but it wouldn't be enough. Some of them would still get through too fast. Fumbling with my set of keys for the second time, I tried to jam the right one into the lock.
It wouldn't turn. Desperately, I pulled the key. It was the right one. I tried again. It still wo
uldn't turn. "Please, please, please," I chanted as I wrestled with the key.
Footsteps pounded on the blacktop. Looking up wildly, I saw the first of them had edged past my car. I was out of time. Turning, I bolted down the alley. Breath harsh, I ran with everything I had, but I could already feel my limited energy failing. I wasn't going to be able to keep going for long.
The alley was full of the typical trash. Cardboard boxes that had been broken down, bags of shredded papers, nothing that was going to help me. Then I saw it.
Hanging down from the five story building, just ahead, was a fire escape. Without thinking, there wasn't any time, I raced to the ladder and jumped.
Somehow, my hand managed to close around the metal bottom rung of the ladder. The whole contraption lowered with a jolt and a loud crash. Scrambling, I flung myself as high up as I could reach in one jump. Climbing faster than I'd ever climbed a ladder before, I was nearly out of reach when the first person got there.
The man's fingers snagged the bottom of my shoe. The sneaker being pulled from my foot nearly had the power to pull me from the ladder. Gripping hard, I hung on until the pull on my foot disappeared along with my shoe.
As I climbed up a few more rungs, I risked a look below me, terrified that the people would be coming up the ladder behind me. They weren't. But what I did see was almost as bad. Below me, at least a dozen of them stood, most of them perfectly still. A dozen pairs of bloodshot eyes stared up with that unwavering focus that I was beginning to recognize. Blood had smeared across cheeks, coated hands, and ran from a variety of wounds.
The new arrivals kept coming and screamed as they found me hanging out of their reach.
Shuddering, I turned away from the sight and climbed the rest of the way to the roof.
SEVEN-DAY 4
Climbing that ladder zapped what little strength I had remaining. I tumbled onto the roof gracelessly, grateful to have made the climb instead of falling to certain death below. I hadn't been entirely sure I would make it the last few rungs.
As I lay there panting, I took stock of my situation. I was filthy, exhausted, and starving. A horde of rabid people out on the street wanted to kill me. And I now only had one shoe.
On the bright side, I'd somehow actually made it onto the roof. Those same rabid people didn't seem to know how to climb. And I happened to know that my fellow employees who smoked in this building tended to wedge the door open so they could easily come up here to sneak a smoke. Management sent out emails about it once a week. Emails that everyone chose to ignore week after week.
Groaning, I rolled to my feet. I was going to be sore after using so many new muscles today. And I could add a skinned knee to my list of complaints.
When did that happen?
At least I'd managed to keep my hands on my keys, unlike the scissors from earlier. They were the only possession I still had and I was reluctant to give them up.
Other than a couple of hotels dotting the landscape, and the hospital in the distance, my work building was one of the tallest buildings in the area. The roof was empty except for the lone door and a few huge vents. I had a really great view all around. The noise coming from street level continued to increase.
Looking out, I could easily see that more sick ones were making their way in my direction. Like a snowball rolling down hill, the noise attracted attention, which made more noise, and the crowd was quickly getting bigger. Individual screams were becoming harder to distinguish in the cacophony of sound.
I was hoping that, like Evie and my bathroom, they would eventually lose interest if they couldn't see me.
The rooftop door was a heavy, security conscious thing that automatically locked on this side when shut. As I got closer, the peek of a mangled pack of cigarettes that someone had used to stop the lock eased some of my anxiety. At least I wasn't trapped on the roof.
I eased open the door. The stairwell on the other side was pitch black. Bolstering my courage, I reached inside and felt along the wall where I thought a light switch should be.
Nothing.
My key chain had a tiny flashlight on it. Pressing the button turned on a weak beam of light. Flashing that light all around inside the door, all I could make out was the dingy stairwell disappearing down into darkness. I couldn't see nearly far enough for comfort, but the tiny flashlight would have to do.
Debating with myself for a second, I finally pulled the cigarette pack from the door jam. Just in case someone I didn't want getting into the building made it to the roof. Hopefully, no healthy people found themselves trapped up there, though I doubted that could happen any time soon with the numbers of sick people waiting outside. I stepped inside and let the door swing shut with a solid click.
The blackness in the stairwell was absolute without the sun's light. My flashlight was no match for it, and the already meager beam of light seemed to be losing the battle with the dark. A drop of sweat rolled down my neck as I began descending.
My footsteps echoed in the space no matter how I tried to keep silent. The sound only added to the tension for it's unevenness, one foot's sneaker causing an echo, the other silent in just a sock. Walking around in only one shoe was quickly becoming annoying.
By the time I reached the door that would take me to the top floor, my filthy clothes were drenched in sweat, and my nerves shot. It had been the longest flight of stairs in my life, sure as I was that at any moment someone would rush up from the darkness below. The door out of the stairwell had one of those long, narrow windows in it. A peek through showed me an open floor plan, the space divided by short cubicles.
There didn't seem to be any movement from inside, and the light coming in through the large, tinted windows was a welcome sight. I escaped the nightmare inducing stairwell and stepped into the light.
The well worn beige carpet muffled my steps as I prowled the aisles between the cubicles. Short enough that I could easily see above them clear across the large room, they were tall enough that anyone sitting at the work desks would be hidden. My mind played tricks on me, showing me glittering red eyes in the dark spaces under desks, and convincing me that I heard the roll of desk chairs moving somewhere just out of view.
By the time that I had finished searching the office, I had been sure a dozen times over that someone was in the room with me, only to not be able to find anyone. My circuit of the office had brought me back to the area near the door. The only space left to look was the bathrooms.
The men's room was nearest, so I hesitantly pushed the door open. To my surprise, when the lights came on I found myself in the most utilitarian bathroom I'd ever seen. On the right wall, a row of sinks. On the left, urinals followed by two stalls. It took me all of a half a second to discern that I was the only one in the room.
Backing back out the door, I reached for the women's bathroom. As expected, the women's room was going to take more than a cursory glance to search. The ante room wasn't large. A red day couch and a fake potted tree stood in the corner. A floor length mirror covered the back wall. Other than squeezing behind that couch, there wasn't any place to hide in the room. Not leaving anything to chance, I looked behind the couch before creeping to the next door.
In the bathroom, a row of sinks lined one wall, a row of stalls the other. Every stall door was at least partially closed, causing me anxiety as I moved down the line, bumping each open with the toe of my socked foot. I tried not to think to hard about the fact that I was walking in a public restroom minus a shoe.
The final stall proved to be empty, and I heaved a sigh of relief. The building seemed to be deserted, at least on this floor.
Back out in the office area, I wandered from desk to desk, searching for stashes of junk food that I knew would be in most of the desks. The brief twinge of guilt that I felt at taking the first Snickers bar was quickly buried by my hunger. Before long I had accumulated enough snack food to stuff myself with, and retreated back to the women's bathroom.
The doors to the bathrooms had locks on the
inside. Turning the lock, I settled into the couch and wolfed down enough candy to make myself slightly sick. Feeling a little better, completely exhausted, I curled up on the couch and was instantly asleep.
What had to be hours later, I woke up, confused as to why I was sleeping on a restroom couch for several long seconds. Sitting up, the past few days came back to take my breath away. I stumbled to my feet and into the first stall. Still groggy, I splashed some cold water onto my face. It was while I was hanging over the sink, water dripping off of my chin, that I heard the voices outside of the bathroom door.
EIGHT-DAY 5
"There's someone in there."
The low voice carried to where I stood dripping into the white sink. The sound had my head snapping up and my gaze glued to the door. As far as I had been able to discern, the rabid people never spoke actual words, just grunted, growled, and screamed. Intelligent conversation meant hopefully sane and safe company.
Unevenly walking to the bathroom door, I stopped to try to listen to the whispered conversation happening on the other side. All I could catch was a word here and there, not nearly enough to follow what was being said. I hesitated with my hand on the lock, the urge to be with other people somewhat tempered by the knowledge that they were strangers.
The whispering on the other side of the door continued. The desire to finally not be alone in whatever was going on, won out. I turned the lock and pushed the door open.
"Whoa! Look out!"
"It's coming out!"
Two distinctly male voices shouted over each other. Frozen in the partially opened door by the sight of someone fifty pounds heavier than me brandishing a baseball bat, I cringed and waited for the inevitable sound of my own skull caving in.