Nothing is Certain

by Shawn C. McLain

  Thump.

  The sound drew her attention. “Hello?”

  Thump-thump. Silence…Thump…thump-thump-thump.

  Mary eased to the corner of the blood-spattered end cubicle. Taking deep, calming breaths, she could taste the blood in the air. Blowing out the breath, she peeked around the corner. “Eek!” escaped her lips as she flung herself back around the corner, eye closed tight. Hands balled in fists, head back, she steeled her resolve. Slowly she peered back around the corner. It took a moment to realize what she was seeing.

  A cable ran from the handle of an office door to a desk that was built into the wall and floor. The cable held the door shut tight. A narrow floor-to-ceiling window revealed the source of the thumping.

  Standing at the window was what remained of a man dressed in a business suit that was now ragged and bloody. One gore-encrusted hand held the metal frame, and the other hung uselessly at the end of a mangled arm. His head wobbled back and forth on an exposed spine. The head barely held on by torn muscle and tendons. His head constantly nodded back and forth, bumping against the glass.

  “ Can I fire the staff?” Mary whispered. The zombie nodded, its head bouncing off the window. “Oh God, she’s completely bat-shit crazy,” Mary hissed. “Did the people downstairs know about this? Is that why they ran off?” Mary asked the dead man. She doubted it. The upstairs looked as if it had happened early in the day. She doubted the people who ran were even here when it happened. “And that bitch just let you come in…”

  The crash of shattering glass spun her around. Mary collided with the door to the office. It moved. “Whoa!” she exclaimed, jumping away from the door. The bobblehead thudded harder against the window. Stepping forward, she grabbed the side of the cubicle. Her heart sank as she spied another hall that disappeared around a corner. “Oh God, oh God, oh God,” Mary whispered under her breath, creeping to the next corner.

  She was sliding along the wall, keeping her back to it, muttering as she went. “Why are you doing this? Run away, Mare, run away,” she instructed herself even as she stood at the corner, preparing to look around it.

  Wrapping both hands around the edge, she eased closer, inch by inch. She kept telling herself to run even as the hallway came into view. A long stretch of gray wall broken by a single picture of the mountains in fall met her gaze. She was looking straight down it now. Two bathroom doors stood off to the right; at the end was a brightly lit conference room. The door to the room was also held fast by a cable tied to the doorknob. She couldn’t see where the other end was tied. The end of the hall seemed to split into a T. Two large floor-to-ceiling windows looked into the conference room. One side was completely obscured by vertical blinds. On the other window, the blinds lay in a crumple on the floor. Several of the high-back leather chairs were scattered around the room or overturned. A large, flatpanel TV lay smashed on the floor.

  The overhead lights flickered. Instinctively Mary looked up at the fluorescent fixture. It hummed steadily back at her. A rustling in the blinds and a crash of something heavy somewhere down the hall returned her attention to the conference room.

  “You know they are in there. Why are you hanging around, girl?” she chided herself again but couldn’t make her legs move.

  The lights flickered again, and the rustling blinds ripped from the wall and fell to the floor. Mary flung herself around the corner and flat against the wall. She knew by the pounding on the glass and the desperate moaning that they had seen her. She had only had a glance. There must be six or seven in there. They were bloody and torn—people in shirts and ties, business skirts, and suit coats.

  The lights flickered again and then went out. Mary could hear the glass protesting in its frame from the relentless fists. Her heart slammed against her ribs in time with the pounding of bloody fists. She stood alone in the dark, listening to the moaning and pounding from the conference room and the dull thud from the boss.

  Panic was building in her. She let loose a scream when the emergency lights flicked on. Across the room she spied the door to the stairs. She sprang forward off the wall. In the dim light, she misjudged the position of the couch and fell hard; pain exploded through her. Her knees and palms burned from the friction with the commercial-grade carpet, and her shin stung from the thinly covered wood of the furniture.

  Behind her, glass shattered. Scrambling to her feet, she flew to the door. It banged open; jumping several steps, she landed hard on the landing, her ankles and knees protesting at the abuse. Limping slightly, she thundered down the remaining stairs. Skidding to a halt, she rested her head against the door, desperately trying to catch her breath.

  “ Now I only have to deal with crazy,” she panted. Breath froze in her throat as her heart stopped. The door above her creaked open. Mary pushed on the door in front of her. Panic swelled. Now her breathing was in short gasps, and her heart was pounding painfully again. Her door stood resolutely closed. She felt over the door; there was no bar to push. Looking down, she saw the handle.

  “ Why does this door have a handle?” she demanded. As she slammed down the handle, the door sprang open. Mary stumbled and slipped through. Spinning on her heels, she grasped at the metal bar. Something heavy crashed down the first set of stairs.

  “ Why the hell does this side have the bar? Who designed this place?” She pulled the door closed as best she could. In the stairwell she could hear the creature pulling itself off the floor, dragging itself toward the stairs. Moving away as quickly and quietly as she could didn’t keep her from hearing something, or someone, else tumbling down the stairs.

  “ Break your bones. Crack open your skulls and die!” she growled at the closed portal. Closing her eyes, attempting to get her heart to slow down, she considered what she had learned. “They had trouble with stairs and doorknobs at the Y,” she muttered. “Should be safe…ish for a while. As long as there are none down here…”

  Mary knew she needed to get back to the lobby to wait for Chris. She now faced the long hall and a crazy woman who stood between her and her goal. Mary could see down the hall but couldn’t tell where Diane was. A weak thud against the door urged her on. The dimly lit hall seemed to grow longer as she took each tentative step. The room with the large screen still had power; blue light spilled across the hall.

  Mary realized she was holding her breath as she slowly and quietly crept through the large window into the room. She could see the technical equipment running, with some numbers ticking down while others ticked up. The screen now showed an interview show. The interviewer and the guest were discussing some obscure historical figure of the state’s history. There was no one in the room.

  “Does anyone actually watch this crap?” she muttered. Her luck held as no one was in the next room, either. A crack of plastic on plastic froze Mary at the doorway.

  “ Fine! Don’t answer! You’ll never freelance here again!” erupted from the office at the corner. Mary ducked into the room as Diane stormed out of her office and around the corner, away from the lobby, muttering, “Where is that damn intern?”

  “ She can’t be talking about me,” Mary gasped. “That bitch is seriously nuts.” She waited a few seconds. Diane did not return. Seeing her opportunity Mary hurried toward the lobby. Checking around the corner, she couldn’t see Diane. Mary eased the lobby door open, slipped through, and eased it shut. When she looked through the windows, the lot seemed empty. Bill was still on the patio, wandering aimlessly between the bench and the low wall.

  Keeping low, Mary quickly slid under the long counter that made up the receptionist ’s desk. Scurrying into a corner where she couldn’t be seen by the windows or from the hallway, she curled up into a ball. Clutching her bruised knees to her chest, Mary let several frightened tears fall. She had never wanted to see her brother more in all her life. She fumbled with the torn knee of her stocking and looked at her chipped black nail polish. She could hear the dead stumbling around above her. It felt like she had been here for hours. She wanted her mo
ther. Mary still couldn’t believe she would never see her again. The click of the hall door opening made her grab her knees and drew them closer to her.

  “Where is the girl? I’m going to call her school and tell them that she is not to come back!”

  Lights flashed through the lobby windows. Mary held her breath, willing Diane to go away. She was sure Chris had finally arrived. She prayed he had arrived.

  “ Who is that?” Diane demanded to the empty room, or maybe she was asking the dead or the voices in her head. Mary just wanted her to go away. Diane was crossing the lobby; the problem was she was not returning to the interior but heading to the outside door.

  “ Go away, go away, go away,” Mary chanted quietly. Jerking, she banged her head on the underside of the desk when Type O Negative’s “Black Number One” burst from her phone in her skirt pocket. “Oh shit!” Mary rolled out from under the counter. She crouched at the ready.

  Diane spun on the spot to see where the music came from. Pointing an accusing finger, she screamed, “You were hiding! We have a duty to the viewers!” Mary stared at Diane, who stared back. Bill turned to face the glass, mouth open and teeth bared.

  Time slowed. Mary’s boot slipped her into a stumble on her first step. Her second was firm. She was around the counter and running for the door.

  “ Oh, no, you don’t!” Diane screamed, moving to block Mary’s exit. In an instant Mary collided with both Diane and the door. The side of her head rang, and something warm and wet blossomed over her eye. White light exploded behind her eyelids, and her vision swam. She took a stumbling step toward the door. Diane was there, arms out. Mary lunged, and the two women spun, struggling for the door. Mary pushed Diane away, swiping at her eye; her hand came back red. Stunned, she gave Diane the opportunity she needed. Diane flung herself at Mary, catching her at the knees. Mary slammed against the door. The glass cracked, and pain shot through Mary’s arms and chest. She bounced off the glass, but Diane was there with a second attack. Mary hit the door again, catching the release. They fell out into the cool night air and crashed onto the shattered glass.

  Diane was stunned. Mary kicked free of her grasp and scrambled under the remains of the outer door. She slammed straight into zombie Bill, knocking him out of her way. Mary’s head snapped back, her feet nearly leaving the ground. Diane had a handful of Mary’s hair.

  “You’re not going anywhere, little girl!” she growled. Tears streamed down Mary’s face as several hairs parted from her scalp. Chris was out of the car, screaming and running at them.

  “ I’ll teach you the importance of hard woryyyeaaarrrrrccchhhhh!” Blood sprayed across the patio. Diane let go of Mary’s hair and grabbed at her own calf. Bill was chewing on a large chunk of Diane’s leg. Grabbing Diane’s arm, Bill began to pull himself up. They were face-to-face. Diane was furious. “Damn you, Bill! You’ve always been out—” What he had always been out to do was lost in a gurgled scream. Bill had stretched out, biting off Diane’s lips and pulling half her cheek with them.

  Mary fell back; arms grabbed her. She fought, screaming, against them. She was being pulled backward, away from the scene. Her feet kicked the air. Bill was on Diane’s back. She was trying to claw her way back into the building. Bill’s teeth sank into the back of her neck. Mary was screaming and kicking and punching, but she couldn’t look away from the horror. She also had to get away from whatever had her.

  “ Mary! Mary! It’s Chris. It’s your brother!” he yelled. “Ow, damn it, that hurt. Come on, we gotta go!” Finally recognizing her sibling, Mary collapsed into his arms. Dragging her to the car, he threw open the door and pushed her in. Curling up and clutching her knees to her chest, Mary watched as Bill slowly rose to his feet, covered in blood. He stumbled toward the car.

  The driver ’s door slammed. This was her dad’s car, not Chris’s. “Are you OK?” Chris asked as they squealed out of the lot. “Did you get bit? You’re bleeding!” He reached in front of her, trying to steer and search the glove box. Pulling several napkins out, he held them against the cut over Mary’s swollen eye. She slowly took over holding them.

  After several minutes Mary was able to look over at him. He was dressed just as nicely as ever. He looked as if he was ready for a day at school except for the bloodstains on his shirt and jacket. “Thank you,” she whispered.

  He glanced at her. “The highway is blocked; we’ll have to go through town and try to pick it up on the other side.”

  “I want to go home,” Mary whimpered. Chris swerved around several crashed cars. Silence was deafening in the car. “I want to…” Mary started a little louder, thinking her brother hadn’t heard her.

  “We can’t,” he stated. It seemed to take all his strength to finish “They’re still there.” Mary buried her face in her knees. Chris took the road back into town.

  On the Road

  Kyle sat in the car. The engine was running as he stared at the welcome sign. He was free. No overbearing Mom. No disappointed Father—but no sister, either. She’s a pain in the ass,he thought with a smile that didn’t stay in place. Thoughts of the old dirt bike he and his father had worked on when he was younger kept coming into his mind, along with images of his mom helping him with his homework.

  “ Dude, why are you even considering this?” he said out loud to the car. If he was truthful with himself, he already knew the answer. Because his life wasn’t as bad as he pretended. He had been playing the misunderstood bad boy for so long that he was actually starting to believe he was as bad as he pretended. He laid his head down on the steering wheel again. “Dude, you’re a middle-class kid from a decent family; get the fuck back to them.”

  His head snapped up as he was shaken from his thoughts by the sound of gunfire. He looked out the front window to the convenience store just ahead. There was an armored bank car in the lot, and a girl was shooting at an oncoming group of the dead. There were a couple of other people standing outside the truck now, firing at the crowd. He watched as they all ran back to the truck and drove away.

  “ At least I’m not stuffed in the back of that.” He laughed as he surveyed the spacious interior of the Camaro. “And I look damn good in this.” He sneered up at his reflection in the rearview mirror. “Ain’t that right, baby?” he said, throwing the car in gear and running down the female zombie that was coming toward him.

  He stopped to back up and run over her again, making sure she was completely dead. He grinned as he bounced over the corpse. He was still turned around when several hands slapped against the window. Kyle spun in his seat. Flipping his long hair out of his eyes, he sat in terror as the sports car became surrounded. It began to rock back and forth as they tried to get at him.

  “ Fuck! Fuck! Fuck this!” he screamed, flooring the accelerator. The engine whined, and the wheels spun as the car tore through the body beneath it. The high-powered engine pushed through the wall of zombies, finally gaining traction; bodies began to slide past. The wails of frustration rang in his ears from the damned souls that begged him to join them. Kyle screamed in jubilation at the car’s freedom.

  Tears streamed down his face, and his hands trembled on the wheel. He was heading back into his hometown. A sudden realization tore into his brain. He had no idea where his uncle’s house was. He had a vague idea where it was, so he headed in that direction. Damn stupid to throw out the phone, dummy, he thought.

  After driving around for a couple of hours, he was desperately trying to calm his growing panic. He had no food or water. All that he had were a couple of warm beers in the back seat. He drove up a long, winding road to the top of a hill that overlooked the town. It seemed deserted enough. He felt so tired. He rested his eyes for a moment.

  Kyle groaned. His back was stiff and he had to pee. He mentally slapped himself for not pulling down the curtains in his bedroom, because the sun was burning in his eyes. He realized he was sitting up, and he was stiff and cold in the driver’s seat of a sports car. “Shit, that actually happened,” he mumbled
, rubbing off the confusion from his eyes. Fog was slowly lifting around the car. The valley below was completely covered in a sea of white. A bird sang in a tree close by. It seemed so peaceful. How could the horrors of the last two days have actually happened?

  Straightening up in the seat, Kyle realized he had a choice to make: use one of the empty bottles or get out of the car. He scanned the area, and it looked to be deserted. Slowly opening the door, he paused, listening hard, but his ears were met only by the sounds of morning.

  Standing up next to the open door, he fumbled with his pants and began to take care of business. “Dude, how are you going to find this place?” he asked what was in his hands.

  As he looked around, the fog began to evaporate around him. He was at the observation deck that looked out over the city. He remembered coming up here as a boy with his parents. Finishing up, he got himself squared away and hurried the short distance to the platform. His shoes made a hollow thump on the wood as he strode to the binoculars. Excitedly, he looked through the eyepieces.

  “ Shit!” he grumbled and searched his pockets for change. “Needs fifty cents.” Finding only one quarter, he ran back to the car. Rummaging through the dash and seats, he found what he needed. Back on the observation platform, he looked out over the town. The fog was quickly burning off now, and the city began to be revealed. The ballpark was a blackened, smoldering shell. Several other buildings were still billowing smoke. “Holy shit,” he gasped as he plunked the quarters into the viewer. He panned across the scene.

  The park was full of the undead. Out to the east, the ramps to the highway were completely blocked. Shaking his head, he thought, No, wait, the houses I need are not that way. He panned back to the west. There! He focused on the historic district with its large brick houses.