by Mariah Lynde
“Oh.” Sighing a little, I shook my head in disappointment, “Here I thought you might have done something cool.” Snorting a little as I moved to drop the chicken into the pot settled in front of me on the stove. To say I was perturbed by the lack of well-carried-out-revenge on Cal’s part was an understatement. I’d been hoping for something far flashier or ironic.
“So, blood thirsty, Miss Warren. Would it help you to know that in so doing I had the manager let me transfer my lease to the penthouse apartment three floors up? I pretty much ended up leaving her in a high rise apartment, with a rent that is more than she makes in a month, while I moved up to the top floor and a far better view. But she did get her new boyfriend.”
I didn’t even have to see Cal to know that he was grinning from ear to ear. As far as irony went, I had to say, that was a subtle move. Here he was, thrown over by the woman he loved for his boss, and he ended up in the more expensive digs while trapping her in a smaller, highly expensive apartment. While I couldn’t say that would be my chosen form of retribution, but it had been something he could do that didn’t threaten his job security. It showed a certain flare of devious intelligence that I could fully endorse. I couldn’t help but chuckle as I shook my head to peer back over my shoulder at him.
“It helps. Much as I don’t like the way you can act sometimes, I have zero tolerance for people like Jim and the things they do to people.” Offering him the back handed comment, I moved to add a dash of garlic powder into the pot on the stove before turning on the burner. “So, Micheal McGinley…Considering what you just told me, I suppose that what happened last night in the lobby didn’t upset you too badly.”
“Not really, but for more than just that reason. Anyone who has dealt with Micheal on any level pretty much knows he’s an incompetent, spoiled little rich boy.” There it was, that condescending tone of voice that said he considered himself superior to the person he was discussing. Not that he wasn’t right in this case, pretty much everyone from the janitorial staff to the CEO of McGinley knew that the man in question was a waste of space. He had absolutely zero brain power and thought if you threw enough money at something that the problem would go away.
“In comparison to you?” I couldn’t help but arch a brow as I peered back over at him.
“That’s kind of harsh.” He frowned, “I’d like to think I’m better than Micheal McGinley. At least I have tried very hard to be.”
“That’s all well and good, but be honest…do you really treat people any differently than he does. At this moment, it’s not even a question of intelligence as most people are more mentally capable than he is. He’s been raised to be lazy and uncaring of anyone but himself. You, are a different breed. While you may think there’s a huge difference, you’d be mistaken. You still act like a spoiled little rich boy and judge people to be underneath you or your notice.” Damn it, I hadn’t meant to start harping on him or be rude, but that filter I lacked seemed to be spewing lots of normally withheld information tonight.
For a moment, I really thought I had screwed the pooch. The whole of the apartment had gone deadly silent except for the occasional pop from the electric burner on the stove as it heated, leaving me to think that Mr. Mitty had decided to take his chances outside. Honestly, it creeped me out a little. That silence making my nerves slowly roll closer to the edge of almost sheer terror when I couldn’t even hear the sound of his breathing.
“Shit…I’m sorry. It just came out okay?” Nervously offering the apology, I moved to turn and that was when we both heard it. A rapid tap, tap, tap sounding against my back door that had not been there a few moments prior. The sound had my skin crawling and my stomach lodging in my throat even as I turned to face Cal.
Shocked gray eyes met my own - in that moment the discussion at hand was forgotten as we both realized just what we were hearing. This was no steady, intent rhythm, but a kind of erratic sound that came from unintended movement. The uneven cadence that I heard sent a shiver up my spine even as I lifted my finger to my lips to indicate silence.
Leaning over, I carefully turned off the burner, thankful at least in part that I’d barely gotten started. The low light in the room gave us the cover of shadow, which I suppose could be seen as a godsend at this very moment.
In some ways, this particular encounter made me glad that I had gone off the deep end in preparation for the worst. Clad in tennis shoes that were comfortable enough for me to move easily and mute the sound of my footsteps, I crept across the expanse of the kitchen to try and make it to the window near my back door.
To this day I can’t decide whether that moment was one of relieved glee that I had not completely lost my mind or one of absolute dread. There, settled just outside my back door, was a shadowed figure flailing it’s arms while it’s face pressed to the glass. While I couldn’t see the facial features of my door’s erstwhile attacker, I could make out the movement of their jaw; opening and closing in almost a mindless gnawing motion you expected to see in some feral animal out in the wild.
While I fixated on watching the creature just outside of my back door, I had completely forgotten that there was another person in the room. It only happened to be when I felt Cal Mitty pressed up against my side that I remembered, but not before I swung around and slammed my elbow into his side to knock him back away from me.
That movement, while ensuring my personal space, had been costly. The force of the blow sent Cal swinging back, stumbling into the stove so that he had to put his hand back to catch himself. The minute flesh touched the warm range, panic set in as he jerked his hand away to avoid the burner and yelled, “Damn it, Miss Warren.”
Both our eyes widened as the response to his declaration did not come from me, but from the creature currently on my stoop. That soft, subtle tap changed almost immediately. Now, we were hearing the heavy thud of its full body weight slamming into my door in an attempt to try and get inside.
“Beautiful.” I muttered to myself, and moved quickly towards the front door.
“Where are you going? It’s dangerous out there! We should call the cops or something to come handle it.” Cal’s voice snapped at me in annoyance.
While it had been an interesting thing to try and play civil host, there was a certain type of relief in knowing that a denizen of the undead now stood at my back door. It gave me ample reason to get the hell out of the small, enclosed space with the random guy who had ruined my plans for the day. At that moment, I couldn’t have been happier to force a bigger wedge between us. Still, if he didn’t shut the hell up he’d lose me what little advantage I had. The curfew had only had the gates of our little community closing about an hour ago, I could eliminate one problem before it got too horribly out of control. God knows, I needed the spare time to offload the explorer and take inventory before loading things up.
“Who?” I snapped at him in a peevish whisper. “Who are you going to call? The cops are out enforcing the curfew and I’ll lay money that the emergency system is overrun with calls. At this moment, anyone with allergies is panicking because of the list of symptoms that were given out. It will be HOURS before anyone gets here. You saw what happened last night, these things go into a frenzy to eat and attack any and every person that they manage to get near. So please…tell me… Who are we gonna call?”
“…” Gray eyes glittered in the darkness, focusing on me as the impact of my words settled in and shock took over. “Oh, shit.”
“Yeah, oh shit.” I snarled out softly, knowing full well my best bet was getting to the improvised weaponry in my car.
“Well, at least take the bow. That’ll help…right?”
“I’m sure it would…if I had been able to practice this afternoon. That didn’t happen since I got interrupted.” Seeing his shoulders slump as I snapped back, I felt a moment’s guilt. Trying to soften the blow I continued, “Besides, it’s dark out there, no point in trying to shoot when I can’t see two feet in front of my face. Do me a favor, keep moving around in
here while I sneak around the back of the apartment. Just… don’t fuck up my kitchen.” Sighing in exasperation, I grabbed my keys and reached for the door.
“What are you going to do, Miss Warren.” His voice held a note of wavering insecurity. That particular insecurity couldn’t be addressed at the moment, not when there were very real threats just outside my door. Sometime later it could be handled, but not right now.
With my adrenaline already spiking and my body tensed and coiled to be ready for anything, I turned to look back at Cal Mitty where he stood in my kitchen. Giving a smirk, I shrugged and answered his question softly.
“The same thing I always do, only what I have to.” Stepping outside, I pulled the door shut behind me and made my way out into the cool, night air.
Chapter Nineteen – Kicking Ass and Taking Names…
What the hell was I thinking?
I hadn’t gotten two steps outside of my apartment before realizing this was not just a bad idea - it happened to be a horrible one. This went against every instinct I had relevant to my survival. I had let my feelings of annoyance with the man currently holed up in my home guide my decision to come out here. As if facing off with a zombie were better than being in a small space with someone who annoyed me.
“Good job, Angel.” Muttering to myself, I took a moment to look from one side to the other. Seeing no other creepers intent on brains I tiptoed my way towards my car.
This had to be one of the highest ranking, all-time, idiotic things I had done. Seriously, if Darwinism was a thing and natural selection was at play, I deserved to die. I could have turned around and walked right back into the apartment to figure out a smart way to do this…but I didn’t.
Nope, my dumb ass went on to start rummaging through my over packed, disorganized car to try and find one of the weapons I could use. I wanted a plan. I needed one. However, there wasn’t really time to sit down and draw up a detailed map of the area and figure out how to do this quickly and quietly.
Ironically, my frantic car scramble did not produce a bat, hockey stick, or any other purchase I had made earlier in the day. Instead, I had my trusty tire iron. While some may have considered that good fortune, I just considered it a funny circumstance that held a certain irony at just how my luck went. Go to car looking for nifty new weapon made of a common sporting goods item, find something old that you’ve had all along but could never find when you needed it. Go figure.
Still, it happened to be a weapon and at the moment I needed to do damage control. While I didn’t know the creature at my back door from Adam, I did know that it had one objective – food. As far as basic necessities, one thing all creatures shared happened to be a need for sustenance, so it came as no surprise that when you stripped away civility, thought process, and a general framework of thousands of years of evolution that is what you became. They became a creature with one driven objective – survival.
While I couldn’t say I truly understood just how this whole zombie thing worked on a scientific level, I knew the basics. Some things I could infer with my knowledge as a Paramedic, but for the most part I was flying blind. Still, at this level I could only work on the things that I knew to be true.
Fact: People were turning into zombies. No matter what else we wanted to call them, that is what they were.
Fact: When a person turned they became oblivious to pain, seemingly more intent on finding something to eat or attack.
Fact: As of yet, the only thing that seemed to work against them were blows to the head. More specifically to the base of the skull where it met the spine happened to be the most effective place based on what I’d seen the ‘coroners’ in the lobby do last night.
Fact: The woman I’d first seen that had been infected had been bitten. Something that meant whatever was causing this, could be spread through a bite.
Fact: One of these mindless, biting atrocities was now present in a gated community full of people who were unaware of what kind of danger they were in.
It didn’t take a genius or a rocket scientist to know that if that thing was given free reign, this whole complex would be in a world of hurt. God only knew how many people would fall or be turned in the process. This happened to be one of those times when a lack of information would be a hindrance and not a blessing.
I could just forget this venture. Go back into the apartment and let this thing roam around and do its worst. Cal would be safe. I would be safe…at least temporarily.
Yet, knowing what I did, I also knew what that decision could mean. In the long run, it could make things far more difficult for myself and anyone else who happened to survive the night.
Letting this creature run unchecked could create ten or twenty more. Any calls made to emergency services wouldn't be answered for hours. If nothing else, I just had to make sure that we made it to the morning. When the gates of the complex opened, I’d pretty much be home free and the rest of these people could figure out what they would do to fend for themselves.
I held no illusions about just how rapidly things could unravel from here. With the police caravan announcing a curfew and the added information about the medical complaints to look for, chaos was already taking hold. They had given people just enough information to make things dangerous. Panic would take hold and people would be struggling to find their own personal safety net.
Come morning light, people would be flocking to leave this place and head to wherever it was they felt safest. Those that stayed would eventually fall into one of several categories and then the true tests of survival would begin. That, however, was not something I could focus on right now. I needed to worry about my more immediate future and that happened to include dealing with the creature just outside my backdoor.
Even as I crawled down out of the driver’s seat of my car, my thoughts wandered in a multitude of directions. While I debated how best to go about my little mission to eliminate the zombie, my mind was working double-time in considering just what in the hell Cal had started doing to occupy himself in my home. As disconcerting as that thought was it had nothing on the sheer amount of bullshit that happened to be crowding in on the other parts of my brain.
Did I have enough food? Was there enough of the small propane cylinders? How long could I run a generator without it being heard? If this guy bit one person, how many more would actually be infected? On and on my mind went, spinning in different possibilities. Each time the outcome changed as the variables shifted – yet, despite all that I knew I was completely focused at least physically on the task before me.
Admittedly, I wasn’t the most physically adept specimen, but what I didn’t have in speed or grace I made up for with sheer raw power. Small as I appeared to most people, I had learned long ago that just because you were short, didn’t mean you couldn’t pack a wallop. While most girls would have stayed on whatever fad diet would make them the next size zero ‘hot mama’ I had been swimming or playing one of the few sports I liked. I could swing a bat just as easily as I could sit at a keyboard to type, so a tire iron couldn’t be that much different.
Technically speaking, I shouldn’t have even been out here. I should have been in my house keeping to the curfew that had been imposed on all of us. However, that curfew was in place to try and contain the outbreak so perhaps this little excursion could be seen as a gray area. Creeping around the side of the apartment, I turned just enough so that I could press my back up against the outside wall.
In that moment, I became hyperaware of the world around me. Each brick that formed the structure behind me was registered, their edges pressing into my back so I could feel where each one ended and began as I slid further down the wall. The longer I remained outside, the more daunting my situation became. Even Mother Nature seemed to have gone silent as the air around me stilled so that it was devoid of any sound other than my own strained breathing.
My body had already begun to gear up for what came next. Fight or flight – in my case there was no such thing as flight when I w
as trying to prevent this whole situation for getting worse for me. The sheer magnitude of the decision I had made in that moment floored me. In trying to save myself, to stop from facing the insurmountable odds of having a makeshift horde of zombies trying to make me their next meal, I had already made the decision that I would do whatever it took to survive.
While it happened to be true that I didn’t necessarily like a majority of people in the world, in my own way I could be considered a humanitarian. No matter how much I disliked or despised the way a person was or the choices they made, I did my best to give them their space. To give them their freedom and not really pipe up or weigh in unless pushed like Cal Mitty had done earlier. Knowing that I could be a not-so-likeable person, I’d adopted the live and let live philosophy.
However, this was a zombie and his continued existence meant my possible death. You learn quick, fast, and in a hurry just how much civility goes out the window when your possible death is on the line.
Creeping to the end of the wall, my heart pounded in my chest. I could hear the thing clearly now, the wet slurping sound of its mouth sucking in air and biting at the panel. A soft snap of bone, likely a tooth or its nose as that steady thumping sound from its head slamming into the obstacle before it continued. The whole of the world came into focus at that moment, unlike the night before the air smelled of a sickly sweet odor that was entwined with the stench of body odor and rot. Bile rose in the back of my throat even as my fingers tightened on the tire iron as if it were some sort of talisman that would do all the work for me.
For all my good intentions and plans, fate decided to intervene once more. My palms began to sweat, making my grip on the tire iron less than secure and my mouth opened to drag in air. This time it was no soft whisper of sound, but a humungous gulp that sounded more like a gargling Hutt than a quiet mouse.
Almost immediately that steady thumping sound of head meeting door stopped, only to be replaced by a low, rasped moan. Well, it was kind of like a moan. I truly do not think there is a word to describe the sound of a ravenous undead zombie that had finally locked in on new prey. That noise was a pointless sound, made from the body shifting and pushing air up through the windpipe as the creature moved.