by Main, Lynn
“Of course not, these are the locker and dressing rooms for all the female nurses and doctors, but even in the men’s there’s only one entrance.” She says. We walk out and I look around the lounge area again. At the other end of the room there’s a door open wide enough to expose a small toilet closet. I turn back around and stare at the swinging entrance door. This place could be perfect. The entrance door might be a problem but I think I can rig it so it will only open out. Those turned over lockers give me the idea.
“If I can drag those lockers out to block off this door, there’s no reason we can’t stay for a while.” I say finally. “ That sounds great but we need to get the medicine and it’s in the basement.” Faith replies. I look at the dried caked-on smeared blood on my hands for a second and then stride briskly toward the center door of the three…the one with the label ‘Showers’ above it.
Pushing through it, I’m hit by the smell of soap. What a beautiful smell. I run my hand along the wall beside the door and feel a light switch. I flick it and stare, dumbstruck. I smell a bit of mildew but after all that we’ve been through it’s almost a welcome aroma. I turn back and Faith’s right behind me in the doorway. I have another grin for her, more mischievous than the last. “You think these will work?”
“No reason they shouldn’t.” She walks over to a shower head and turns the water on. It sprays right out with a healthy flow, and is so hot steam begins rising in the shower room instantly. My muscles and bones ache to be under that shower head. She turns back towards me grinning.
I have made up my mind. As bad as Mr. Petrova and his crew think this place is overrun, and as bad as it looks from the outside, it’s an ideal place to hide out. “We need that medicine but not this second, Faith. We need rest, some food, and to give these kids a little time to relax. We could take showers and find clothes in here and then we could go down to the basement.”
She nods and then turns off the shower. “I’d like that.” She walks back to me and lightly pushes me back out the door and flicks the lights off as she follows me through, “Let’s find some food.”
I survey our intended haunt. There are two couches and a recliner. They all look plush and lumpy. There’s also a refrigerator, a coffee pot and a microwave next to a sink. It’s almost utopic. It makes sense I guess; I doubt anyone was running for a coffee break when the place was coming unhinged so there was no one in here to attack, which equals no blood in here or zombies lying in wait.
I walk over to the fridge where a plain piece of paper is taped with handwritten black lettering reading: ‘If it does not have your name on it then it is not yours. Do not eat it.’ I rip it off and toss it aside, then open the fridge. My heart melts, and my mouth and eyes water simultaneously. The air rolling out of the fridge is stale, but crisp and gloriously cold.
The food within, all in rectangular odd shaped and sized clear Tupperware containers with red and blue lids, may still be edible, and there are quite a few of them. I grab the closest one and tear its lid off.
“Food !” I exclaim turning back to the others with the cold dish of macaroni and cheese in my hand tilted down so they can see its contents. Faith had been crouched down looking through the cabinet under the sink. She jumps up with a wanton expression of glee and I can hear a faint bubbling in her belly. Kim and the two little boys were sitting on the couch but when I turn the container to them they all nod and grin. Kim rises and starts toward me and the boys run past her.
I reach in with my cupped bare hand and take some macaroni and cheese out of the dish and stuff it into my mouth and pass the container to Faith. She scoops and heaves its contents into her mouth and hands the container over to Kim, who passes it to the boys. They hold the dish between them with one hand each and pull out a handful with the other and then pass the container back to me. I look at Kim but her expression keeps me from offering it to her again.
I’ m still chewing when I get the nearly empty container back. The bit of congealed cheese and pressed together macaroni noodles in the corner would not amount to the portion I took in my first bite. I shake my head and pass it straight back to the little boys, “You finish it.”
I reach into the fridge for the next container. It is also pasta – little shells- but with a white sauce and strips of carrots and green peas mixed in it. I take a smaller bite of this one. It seems a bit less fresh, but still only tastes delicious in my starving mouth. I pass this container directly to Kim as Faith has already ducked under me. She is leaning a quarter of the way into the fridge, pushing containers around.
She comes out with a Diet Sprite and pops the tab. She gulps greedily and then hands the can to Kim. I look in the fridge again and grab a container with a green lid. I open it and almost drop it on Faith’s head as the rancid smell of rotten meat rolls out. It had been some type of meatloaf and the lid was not green…it was mold.
“I think we should try to steer clear of meat.” Faith says with a funny voice because she’s pinching her nose and has her hand cupped over her mouth. I laugh as I carefully reseal the container and sit it up on the counter. We find a few more containers of pasta and finish them off in a round a piece. Finally I grab one out and look in at week-fresh spaghetti and decide I am too full for another bite.
I offer the container to Faith but she holds a hand up to me and shakes it away. She is still chewing a large bite and takes another swig out of one of the water bottles she found in the drawer at the bottom of the fridge.
I open up the ice box on top too but quickly reclose it. Apparently the power has been intermittent enough to well-thaw out all of the frozen foods. The mixed smell is just another on the long list of horrendous stenches that have accompanied the zombie apocalypse.
Kim After we finish eating, we are all standing dumbly in a loose huddle around the fridge. I decide to go try out the soft chair and the boys follow me. They both sit down on the same couch right by the arm and stare over at me, giggling. Kim sits by them on the couch against the wall. The other couch faces it with a small coffee table in between. The chair I’m in sits between them at the end of the coffee table and faces the three doors to the locker rooms and showers.
Faith comes and sits on the closest cushion of the other couch and holds her hand out to me. I take it and squeeze her fingers a moment. I stare dumbly at it as she looks over her shoulder. I look up and our eyes meet and then hers divert quickly and I flaccidly drop her hand but leave mine lingering close. We all sit silent for several moments and it starts to become awkward. I clear my throat several times but can’t think of anything to say.
Kim breaks the silence. In a soft and serious tone she speaks and all the rest of us regard her mutely. “My parents were born in Korea. In Seoul, my father met my mother while attending college. My mother wanted to design beautiful dresses. She begged my father to come to America, to New York City so she could follow her dream. It caused a lot of problems in their families back in Korea because my mother was 6 months pregnant with me.”
“My father says he is a proud man, a fair man, and a sensible man but there was never anything he could deny her. Despite the fact that neither of them could speak English, they moved to America before I was born. This outraged my Grandfather.”
“He got over it though…eventually. He came to visit us here in America. My grandfather does not speak English, but he did learn on a trip to Disney World to say, ‘I Love Mickey!’” She stops for a moment, chuckles, then sniffs, and I watch her eyes envision her grandfather happily getting his photo taken with Mickey and Minnie.
Twin streams of tears roll down her cheeks , “I only lived in New York when I was little. My mother found work in dress shops. There was not much money in it though. My father started working at a construction company though and did well. He started as a helper –a common laborer- and rose to ownership.
“He was eventually moved to New Jersey and then V irginia to oversee some large construction jobs for the company. Then in Virginia he opened his own company. W
e moved to Sarasota a few years later. I lived in South Hills not far from downtown off of Fruitville for most of my life. Not more than a few miles from here.” She points over my shoulder to the east. “But it isn’t really there anymore.” She stops crying and looks up at me soberly, “It was not like we were at that place with Mr. Petrova by choice. We just didn’t have anywhere else to go…”
“I know…” I reply softly, looking down at my knees. Kim continues, “I wasn’t home when the…zombies attacked. I was at school. School was not let out that day either. There was no bell; there were no special instructions from the school or government; no plan…it just sort of…ended.”
“We were in fourth period when I heard the screaming start. We just walked out of class. Hundreds of students wandering into the hallway to see what all the commotion was about. There were people running up the halls from the cafeteria, screaming that we were under attack.”
“I was frightened but not panicked…I hadn’t actually seen any of them yet. I just followed the crowd that was running out into the student parking lot. I got in my car and got in the line of honking vehicles and drove away. It wasn’t even noon but I didn’t know what else to do so I drove home. There were fires on the streets. Cars were on fire in the streets…and other things…maybe people.”
“My neighborhood looked deserted. I pulled in my driveway and right away I knew I should leave. Both my parents’ cars were there. My father’s Camaro had blood on the window. The front door of the house was standing open. When I cut my engine, I could hear something inside. It sounded like cheering. I remember thinking that everything must be okay if dad was still sitting in his chair watching baseball. He loved baseball.”
“Our house has a large entranceway with a high arched roof and a chandelier just inside the front door. The chandelier had fallen. The glass in the door was broken and there was a small pool of blood just inside. A coat rack stood next to the door but it had been knocked down and leaned on the chandelier. In my father’s sitting room, just to the left about twelve feet down the hall, I could hear the cheering. I crept over the wreckage and as I got closer I realized the sound was not cheering. It was just fuzz.”
“I looked into the room and the large flat screen on the wall above the fireplace was buzzing with no signal. It worked despite a crack right down the center of the screen. There was also a round red spot on the screen with lines running down from it. I just opened my mouth and whispered abeoji and someone jumped out at me from down in the dark room where it had been hunched over…something dead.”
“I don’t know w hich one of them it was because the face was so covered in blood that it was black…but I am certain it was one of my parents, and I knew right then that both of them were dead. I turned screaming and tried to vault through the entranceway, but tripped on the chandelier. I should have gotten up and continued running, but I didn’t.” She stops and wipes the backs of her palms against her cheeks as fresh tears stream down.
“Kim you don’t have to tell us this if you don’t want to.” Faith says. “No its okay…I…I want to.” Faith gets up and walks over to the counter and plucks two tissues from a grey box with light blue paisley. Kim says ‘I’ a few times but can’t get farther until Faith returns and holds the tissues out to her. She takes them and says thank you and wipes at her cheeks delicately.
After a moment she starts again, “I just laid there and cried. It was right on top of me. I suppose it would have killed me, but then Nick was there. He was running through the door and grabbed me and was screaming for me to run. I remember thinking that this was his first time in my house and then I was through the door and outside.”
“He was behind me, pushing me toward his car. We got in and started down the driveway just as some of them were coming around the side of the house. There were maybe 10 and I recognized one of them as the girl that lived next door. She was my age. I don’t remember for how long but after that we just drove around Sarasota for a while. Where we could…it was like…it was like…a dream.”
“Is that when you went to the mortuary?” I ask. “No, we decided to go back to the school. By the time we got there it was abandoned. We went upstairs to the math department and spent the night there. The next day, driving around was not so easy. We had heard a lot of gunfire in the night and several explosions, but we had no idea that the town would be so different…it was like a real war zone…well you know.” She finishes.
“You ended up at the mortuary the same way we did then.” Faith says, nodding with her chin resting on her fist. “No , the town had exploded overnight. We could barely get out of the parking lot. We ended up trapped on top of a bus on Tamiami. That is where Patrick found us. He and Mr. Petrova saved us. They said a group of survivors was in a safe place and we went with them.” She stops again and this time she’s finished.
“How did you meet?” Faith leans over and asks the boys. Kim looks over at them. “They were on vacation with their family here. They lost their parents. The two of them were running in the streets a few days before you two showed up, scavenging for food like wild animals.”
“They’re very lucky to have you to look after them.” Faith says solemnly. She looks like she’s choking back tears.
Ghostly We’ re all sitting silently, just drifting in our thoughts, “It’s time to see how well those showers work.” Faith announces. She stands and goes first into the shower room then comes out. She scavenges through both the locker rooms, all of the cabinets under the microwave and beside the fridge again. I stop paying attention and almost fall asleep when she steps in between the couches and says, “Okay, I have found towels and scrubs to wear. Kim will shower first, then Kevin and Jason, and me last.” She didn’t mention when I would shower, I notice. But I decide not to comment. I have something to do anyway.
I stand and walk over to the door we came in through. There is another sign taped to it that reads: Leave the lounge lights off if unoccupied. Thanx, Mgmt. That gives me an internal chuckle. They had to put up signs to stop doctors and nurses from stealing each other’s food and wasting electricity. Signs are worthless now; it doesn’t matter what they say. Sometimes they say stop, but I can’t stop. Sometimes they say one way, but I have to go the other.
I push the door open, step into the empty hall and let it swing closed behind me. I stand as still and silent as possible until all I can hear is my breathing. I hear the shower kick on through the wall. It’s faint but unmistakable. I continue breathing and listening. My heart is pounding louder but I start to notice faint and far away noises. Somewhere there is a scratching sound and an occasional crash. There is also a low murmur. It’s like a thousand people talking but in a basement far away. This is a tall building and a large complex. This hallway is quiet…ghostly now…but how long will it stay that way?
Turning back and forth, I look both directions down the barren hall. I turn back to the lounge door, unsatisfied as to how safe this location is. I push the door in, but stop and don’t walk through. I just watch it swing open and then closed again. It catches as soon as it is even with the wall. I push it again harder and stand watching it. It swings faster and further in but does not swing back past the wall. It just stops. I push the door again and this time walk through.
“What are you doing?” Faith walks up and asks , carrying two towels. Kim is sitting on one of the couches brushing her hair and wearing some oversized hospital scrubs with a white cotton tee shirt underneath and some black denim jeans that are tight fitting but rolled up. The image gives the impression of a child playing dress up in her mother’s work clothes. I look at Faith who is still standing in mid-stride, staring at me.
“Checking out this door.” I say.
“It looks sturdy enough. But there’s no lock on it.”
“We could pull some of those lockers out and push them up against it.”
“How would we get out?” “Take two rows and lean one against the other so they will make a tunnel beneath and we can push th
e door open. The weight will at least slow down anyone trying to push the doors back the other way.”
“Okay. Then how do we get back in?” She asks, shaking her head as if she knows I won’t have a good answer. I look at the door closely and then my eye gets stuck on the window, “How about that? It’s too small to climb through but we could break out a corner of it and use it like a handle. I don’t think zombies will figure that out. That way we could pull it open from the outside…I just have to make sure the lockers are heavy enough that it can’t be pushed in.” I grin at her, triumphantly.
“It sounds like a good idea.” She says , shrugs and turns back toward the shower room with her towels. I go back to pushing the door and watching it but from the inside now. It swings open, swings shut and stops.
Confrontation Chris i sn’t moving very fast, making his way down the spiral stairs with knots in his stomach. It is all confused. Nick almost walks right into him. “Watch out” Nick says.
Chris nods dumbly and scurries to the side as Nick practically runs down past him. Nick had seemed harsh but the look on his face was blank. Chris follows Nick to the atrium where Nick is stopped by Patrick. Chris lingers on the stairs a death grip on the banister. Patrick looks pissed, his face is red and his hands are balled into fists with white knuckles.
Chris takes a tiny step back when he sees Mr. Petrova turn the corner and grab the banister of the stairs in front of him. Mr. Petrova’s eyes meet Chris’. He fights the urge to shiver, though there is no expression on the elder man’s face. Chris cringes as Mr. Petrova nods and turns towards Nick and Patrick. Nick only lazily turns his head toward him. Mr. Petrova asks, “What the hell is going on here?”
Patrick screams, “Why the fuck was your girlfriend riding with them?”
Nick shrugs. He then flies into Chris and slams his shotgun right into his face. Chris blinks for a few seconds as he realizes that the gun hit him when Nick knocked him over. Patrick is standing over him a second later. “Sorry mate, didn’t aim for you to catch him.” He holds a hand out and Chris takes it. When he pulls, Chris is amazed at how quickly he jolts upward.