by mike Evans
“Nice to meet you, Jared. Can you tell us anything about this building that could possibly be of any help?” Linda’s voice had changed. No longer did she sound like the authoritarian. Now her tone was matronly, and very kind.
“Nothing that he hasn’t already told you,” Ken said.
“Ken is it?” Linda asked.
“It is. Nice to meet you. I wish it was under better circumstances,” Ken answered like the friendly professional that he was.
“Likewise,” Linda replied. “But I wanted to hear what Jared has to say. He said he’s looked over this building. Maybe if we all brainstorm over what he’s seen, we can come up with a plan.”
Jared nodded, despite the fact that no one could see him. There was something about the woman’s voice that calmed his nerves. He tried to picture her in his mind. He imagined that she was tall and stout, older with gray hair. He pictured her in a blue dress with white flower print, a red shawl hanging around her broad shoulders. He wasn’t sure why, but her voice made him think of a grandmother, even if he never knew his own.
“There’s not much to tell,” Jared said finally. “Reinforced concrete walls, blast proof windows, sealed ventilation systems. This place was designed to withstand anything. Hell, there’s even tank barriers outside the front door. It was meant to keep everyone out.”
“What about a failsafe?” Kelly asked. “In case people were locked in, like now.”
“Several actually,” Jared sighed. “There’s only one reason I can think of as to why we can’t leave. Someone locked us in on purpose.”
“How would they do that?” Barb asked. “And why? I mean post 9/11, don’t we want to be sure people can escape?”
“Not always,” Ken replied. “This building was designed to protect everyone inside from terrorist attacks, but it was also meant to contain any internal threats.”
“Internal threats?” Kelly asked.
“Active shooters mainly,” Ken answered. “The security office downstairs has the controls to lock the whole building down. Locking down the elevators and stairwells would prevent a shooter from hopping between floors.”
“What about the stairwell doors or elevators?” Gary asked. “Can we pry them open?”
“Maybe,” Ken said. “If there were enough of us.”
“There’s no guarantee,” Jared sighed. “The stairwell doors wouldn’t work, the locks were changed over to heavy steel bars last year. Maybe with enough time the elevator locks can be broken.”
“It sounds like the start of a plan,” Linda said. “What would we need to start?”
“A miracle,” Jared answered. “And a crowbar. But with those sick people out there, we wouldn’t have time before they were on us.”
“Dead people,” Kelly whimpered.
“No. I refuse to believe that,” Ken said.
“We all saw it,” Kelly cried. “They were dead, and they got back up!”
“Folks,” Linda spoke up. “Does it really matter right now? Dead or alive, they want to kill us. Jared’s right, there’s too many of them out there. The elevator doors are an idea, but it’s dangerous. Tell us more, Jared.”
For what seemed like hours, Jared went over every detail of the building, from the electrical wiring to the fire suppression system. Faceless voices floated from every direction, discussing ideas and formulating plans. Heated arguments would break out whenever a new idea was hatched only to be shot down by yet another security feature of their so-called “safe” building. The more they talked, the more they realized they were trapped inside a building with more safety features than a maximum security prison.
The discussion always came back to the elevators. Of all the possible escape routes, it was the option with the highest possibility of success. But there was one undeniable fact that could not be ignored. Whether they were sick or dead, the monsters were roaming the halls, and the band of survivors had no idea how to stop them.
“We’re getting nowhere fast,” Linda said, her building frustration impossible to miss.
“It’s like Jared said,” Gary exhaled. “This place is a fortress. There’s no way out.”
“Jared,” Linda said after a few silent minutes. “Out of all our ideas, what seems to be the least hopeless?”
“The elevators, I guess,” Jared replied. He leaned his head against the wall, the cool brick soothing his growing headache and helped him overcome the stifling heat in the dank utility room. “But there are dozens of people out there trying to kill us. It would take a couple hours at least to break through the locks, if we can even manage it in the first place. It’s simply too dangerous.”
“I get that,” Linda said. “One thing at a time. If we can get to them, do you think you could break the locks?”
“Maybe.”
“Maybe?” Linda asked.
“Maybe,” Jared repeated. “With the right tools, maybe. But we shouldn’t go out there. If we’re on internal lockdown, it means someone triggered it from the security office. That means someone might be downstairs just waiting until it’s safe to let us leave. We should stay here. We go out there, and those people will kill us for sure.”
“We’re going to die if we stay here,” Linda said. “We have no food or water, and we don’t know what’s happening in the security office. For all we know, they’re in worse shape than we are. We need to do this ourselves. All we really need is a solid plan to distract those things, and we might be able to get out of this mess. Any suggestions?”
“I have one,” Robert spoke up. He hadn’t been heard since his vomiting fit waned. Except for the occasional grunt, he’d largely remained silent.
“Glad you decided to play nice for a while,” Linda said. “What’s your plan?”
Jared heard a metallic click near where Robert’s voice had originated from. A struggle erupted in the darkness, Linda grunting in the middle of it all. Suddenly she let out a painful yelp. She tried to scream, but her voice was muffled as if her mouth was covered. He suddenly felt something wet spray across his face as another warm pool flowed underneath where he sat.
Something hit the floor with a heavy thud, Linda’s scream becoming a wet gurgle until she finally went silent. The smell of fresh blood filled the room once more, intertwining with the stench of death and puke.
No one spoke. The oppressive silence closed in around them as everyone realized what they had just heard. Linda was a voice of reason and hope in the darkness, leading them away from the terror of their situation and toward the hope of salvation, no matter how slim. Their hope vanished as her life ebbed out across the floor in slowly pumping streams. Seeds of fear that were already sewn began to grow in the faceless group of huddled survivors.
“What did you…” was all Kelly could muster.
“Holy shit! What happened?” Robert gasped. “Linda, are you okay?”
“Murderer!” Jared gasped. “You killed her!”
“I did no such thing, Mr. Architect!” Robert said defensively. “You murdered everyone outside that door when you locked them out there! I bet you killed Linda, too. I mean, you’ve been against her plan from the start!”
“I didn’t!” Jared pleaded. “Everyone told me to lock the door!”
“Are you saying everyone in here murdered those people?” Robert sounded shocked. Jared couldn’t see Robert’s face, but he imagined Robert was wearing a sick toothy grin. “Is that true, everyone? Did all of you murder those people? If we get out of here, is everyone willing to stand with Jared when the authorities start asking questions?”
Murmurs and whispers bubbled up through the inky blackness. Blame started to flow across the room as those who once begged for the door to close now denied any involvement in the decision.
“Jared was the one that closed the door,” Kelly whispered.
“Without hesitation!” Robert added.
“You really didn’t put up too much of a fuss there, son,” Gary said.
“You all begged me!” Jared snapped.
“Now
hold on there, son,” Gary said. “It was a tense situation, you may have heard us wrong. But don’t you go blaming all that on us. I’m no killer.”
“Me neither,” Kelly spoke up. “I wanted to let everyone else in.”
“Yeah,” Barb said. “I wasn’t anywhere near that door!”
“Come on people!” Ken spoke up. “We all know the only person here with a grudge is Robert. Jared hasn’t moved since we got in here!”
“How do we know?” Robert questioned. “I mean, I can’t see my hand in front of my face. Someone could move around in here and no one would ever know it. He has been awfully quiet. Unless, maybe you are just covering for your friend. Maybe you helped him!”
“I did not!” Ken said defensively.
“You didn’t help him?” Robert questioned. “So you’re saying he did it!”
“I didn’t say that!” Ken snapped.
“Did you see who killed her?”
“Well, no. But…”
“So you’re saying it could have been Jared?”
“No!”
“You just admitted you didn’t see who did it! You can’t possibly be sure unless you killed her.”
“I didn’t kill anyone! I don’t know who did!”
“Then you admit it! Jared could have done it. Everyone saw him murder those people out there to protect his own ass. Why wouldn’t he kill to do it again?”
“But … I …” Ken stammered.
“I didn’t kill anyone!” Jared cried.
Jared heard shuffling around him as people moved around in the darkness. He drew his knees closer to his chest as he felt the sudden presence of someone close to him. He smelled whiskey on the person’s breath, the stale odor of old cigarettes wafting around the presence.
A bright flame suddenly flared up in front of him, the smell of sulfur burning his nostrils as it moved closer to his face. The lit match passed over Jared until the flickering flame reflected in the thick pool of blood that he was sitting in. The blood stained fingers holding the match suddenly disappeared as the fire burned down to the skin. Jared heard a sizzle as the spent match was dropped onto the bloody floor.
“Jesus!” Robert said, his voice sounding only inches from Jared’s face. “He’s got her blood all over him!”
“You have blood on your fingers!” Jared protested.
“After what happened out there, we all have some blood on us,” Robert replied. “But holy shit man, you’re covered in fresh blood. Shit, you’re still sitting in it!”
“I haven’t moved!” Jared trembled, his voice cracking as he tried to control the fear filled tears from spilling over. Suddenly something heavy fell on his knees. He grabbed at it, a sharp pain blossoming from his thumb as he dropped whatever he held in his hand.
“What was that?” Robert asked in surprise. Another match was struck, the small fire blinding him as the light moved across the pooled blood on the floor. A silvery blade glinted in the darkness, the still wet blood on the blade catching the light from dancing flame. “He had it in his lap! He tried to get rid of it before we saw it! Murderer!”
“But … I didn’t!”
“She defended you!” Kelly gasped.
“How could you?” Barb chastised. “You worthless sack of shit!”
“I’m not worthless!” Jared covered his ears, rocking himself as years of mental torment flooded back into his mind. “I didn’t do anything!”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Architect. I’m afraid you’ve been found out. What should we do with him people? I say we should send him out there. Hell, maybe he’ll discover a backbone and find a way out of this hell hole.”
“He didn’t do anything you lying piece of shit!” Ken snapped in anger. “You killed her and anyone in here that’s honest with themselves knows it!”
“Hold on there,” Gary said. “We just don’t know. I didn’t see anything, but we all saw him lock that door. That’s just as bad as killing them himself. He had the knife, too. I think it would be better if he just left.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Ken raged. “You fucking cowards know what happened, and you’re going to just let this asshole play you like this?”
“I’m only stating things as I see them. Are we all in agreement? Jared needs to go?”
Again, whispers erupted in the darkness as the multitude of invisible jurors passed judgement over him. He felt their eyes on him again despite the darkness, accusing him of what he did not do. Amongst it all, Sally’s eyes glared at him in his mind, waiting and hoping for Jared to pay the price for her death.
“I’m sorry, Jared. I hate to do this, but I think you should leave,” Gary said to a chorus of agreements.
“You mother fuc…” Ken spouted. Footsteps sped across the floor until he heard two men impact. Ken grunted, crying out as he hit the floor.
“Ken?” Jared whispered as he heard what sounded like a beating in front of him. With every thud, Ken cried out in pain. Jared smelled fresh blood again, and this time he knew what happened.
“Ken?” he whispered.
“Asshole attacked me,” Robert gasped, as he caught his breath. “I had no choice, he tried to take the knife. He was going to kill me.”
“Ken? Ken?!” There was no answer. He listened for movement. There was nothing but silence in the stiflingly hot and cramped room. He couldn’t tell if people were standing still, or closing on him. Without the sound of their voices, he couldn’t tell where anyone was.
“You … killed … Ken?” Jared felt the wind leave his body, his heartbeat thundered in his ears as he fought to breathe again. Tendrils of icy fear dug their way into him as he imagined the rest of the group closing on him in the dark.
“No, you did Mr. Architect,” Robert panted. “You killed him when he tried to silence me to cover up your crime. I think it’s time we put this whole thing to bed. You’re just too dangerous to have in here with us. Time to go Mr. Architect.”
“Why?” Jared gasped as a firm hand grasped the shoulder of his shirt. He smelled whiskey again as Robert drew close.
“No real reason,” Robert whispered into his ear, his voice quiet enough so that only Jared could hear. “I simply don’t like you. You big corporate assholes shit all over little guys like me all the time. Now, I get to pay you back.”
Jared’s head spun as powerful hands hoisted him to his feet. He slipped as his shoes lost purchase in the thick oozing blood. He went limp as he was dragged away from his small safe spot.
Light spilled into the room as the hallway suddenly opened up in front of him. The heavy door smacked Jared’s head as it opened inward. With a powerful shove he was sent hurtling through the door, landing on his back in the pile of skeletal remains scattered around the carpeted floor. Jagged rib bones dug into his flesh as they drove their way into his side.
Jared spun to see Robert’s round face, a greasy comb-over covering a mostly bald head. He was no taller than Jared, but he was built, his broad shoulders filling out his janitorial jumpsuit. He smiled back at Jared with a cruel smile.
“Have fun, Mr. Architect,” Robert said as he slowly closed and locked the door.
Before the door closed fully, Jared had the chance to look inside the room one last time, wondering who owned the voices he had spent hours listening to. At least a half dozen people huddled together in all corners of the small room, far more people present than the handful of voices that he had heard. Yet none of them took a stand to defend him when he needed them.
He saw Ken’s prone body face down in his own blood, his head turned away from Jared. The back of his white dress shirt soaked red from the multiple stab wounds he had received. Robert had literally stabbed him in the back.
In the last seconds before the door closed, he saw Linda. He realized how wrong he had been about her. She did have gray hair, but she was short and frail, very much like himself. She spoke with authority that he never thought anyone of his stature would dare to use.
Her neck lay open, sliced so deep
that he was amazed her head was still attached to her body. Blood still oozed slowly from her torn throat, pooling around where he’d cowered against the wall. He nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw her hand twitch, as if there was still life in it. He stared at her, unsure of what he had seen until he suddenly realized what was happening.
She was staring back.
The door clicked shut, leaving him alone in the corridor, sitting in the gore that at one point had been his coworkers. Those that never made it into the imagined safety of the maintenance closet. He shook his head, staring at the closed door and trying to puzzle through what he saw. There was no way Linda was alive, yet she was moving … not much … but she was moving.
Throughout everything, he believed there would be an end to it. There had to be an end to the madness that he’d suffered that day. Eventually someone would come for them, and the world would be set right again.
But that wasn’t true. The dead were coming back to life, and killing other people and turning them into more of the living dead. Now he had no doubt that the infection would grow exponentially, devastating the global population in a matter of days. There would be no help for him, or the people trapped in their highly advanced security tomb.
Jared was dumbfounded, trying to make sense of his situation. Robert only added fuel to the simmering terror inside the room, but Jared could not understand how everyone could have turned on him so quickly.
He was suddenly overcome by flashes of his youth. The beatings, the burns, the mocking; it all filled his head, and he felt something deep within him change. A burning rage burrowed its way into his chest, sending his heart thundering inside his ribs. He had been cast out, tossed aside again. They’d sentenced him to die, just like they had forced him to sentence so many others to die.
He shot to his feet, his head swiveling to find where the monsters had disappeared to. Their snarls filled the silence somewhere on the other side of the floor. He heard scratching, as if dozens of finger nails were dragging across the walls. Sorrow filled moans mingled with the animalistic growls, as if the sick … no, the dead … were mourning what they had become.
The halls themselves were a macabre shadow of what they had been just hours before. The normally brightly lit corridors were darkened. The glowing fires raging across the city outside cast an eerie orange glow against the drying blood smeared across the white walls.