by G. Benson
The light flickered on and off in the hallway. At the end, near the other door, four of them were gathered, all their heads turned to face Joy and Taren. They were all right outside the door they needed. Last one on the left.
Taren certainly hadn’t been paying attention to what had been inside the rooms she’d crept past, holding Xin like her life depended on it.
The group of the dead started moving towards them, slowed down by their urge to all reach Taren and Joy first. Getting jammed, tripping up.
But not slow.
Joy and Taren stepped forward as one.
“Stay a step behind me,” Joy said, and she started walking forward, pole in her hand, twirling it once.
It should not have been hot. Except it was. But the hotness did not distract Taren enough to stop her reacting to that comment. “What? No!”
Joy glanced behind her. “Stay a step behind, and I’ll send some your way. Trust me.”
Her gaze was sure, confident. Taren’s, she was certain, was anything but.
In a blur, Joy was moving forward to meet them in shuffling steps, body turned side on, knees bent. Taren went to mimic her, then thought there was no point; she’d just fall over, she had no training. Instead, she squared up, IV pole back up ready to swing.
The dead moved towards them, grotesque in the blood that covered them, two in white lab coats, one with a gown, one naked—this one had clearly been in the middle of having an autopsy done. She was covered in blood, like she’d eaten her fill, her blonde hair caked in it. She had a Y-incision, gaping skin revealing insides, intestine hanging out, swinging. The flickering light lit them up, then shadowed them, bringing out the strange hue in their skin. The hallway rebounded with the sounds of their sucking breath, the growling deep in their chests, the groaning.
They met in the middle in what should have been a clash, but Joy used everything to her advantage: from the walls, the little space, and the way they were still half clumped together, to their own clumsiness, her IV pole, and, to be honest, her own pure skill.
She jabbed the IV pole forward to the one closest, the one in a gown, and it went straight through his eye, yanking back out in one swift motion. He fell, slowing the two behind. With her left hand, as the right hand yanked the pole free, Joy twisted her body and grabbed behind the neck of the one who’d been mid-autopsy, twisting again so her leverage pulled the woman forward, her target’s own momentum helping with the move. Joy yanked, and the dead woman tripped over the one falling and sprawled behind Joy onto the ground at Taren’s feet.
A blink at the speed of it, and Taren brought the IV pole down once on the back of her head. The woman kept trying to stand. So she hit her again. Another time. A fourth.
She finally stopped trying to stand. Taren straightened, swiping her forearm across her cheek to wipe away some of the blood.
Joy was kicking out, hard, leg cracking, and one of the medical staff fell backwards, arms flailing in such a lively way it was hard to believe these were what they were, buying them some time. That left the other staff member, now over the body on the floor, stepping towards Joy. Too close. In arm’s reach. Fingers curled over Joy’s arm.
Taren brought the pole down on the arm, breaking the grip, then swung the pole back and under, hitting the man under the chin so his head cracked back against the wall and he slid down.
Then Joy was grabbing her arm, they were slipping past the other man who’d flailed his arms, balance regained—oh, shit, was that Jim? Sweet, funny, your-dad-at-work Jim? She barely had time to look before Joy pivoted outside the room they were trying to get to, dropped down in a crouch, her leg sweeping around, bringing poor Jim down flat on his back, then standing and holding the pole straight up, bringing it down onto his head. His whole body convulsed, and he was still.
He’d been a really nice guy.
Joy grabbed Taren’s hand and pulled her through the door, shutting it behind them.
They stood, dragging in air.
“Holy shit,” Taren said.
All Joy could do was gasp for breath.
“Key,” Taren gasped.
They swept the room, both of their gazes landing at the same time on the key box on the wall near a coffee machine. They rushed over, Joy hovering over her shoulder as Taren’s trembling fingers ran over the keys, over twenty of them, desperately reading labels aloud.
“Maintenance room—boiler. It’s super shiny and new looking.” Taren grabbed it, turning and holding it up between them. “This has to be it, right?”
Joy nodded, stepped right into her space, brought her hands up to cup her cheeks, leaned in—then paused, lips so close to Taren’s.
She was waiting for something.
“Joy,” Taren breathed.
“I’ve missed you saying my name,” Joy murmured. “And that’s twice today.”
And still she waited.
So Taren closed the gap, hand with the key trapped between their chests. Soft lips, warm tongue. She tilted her head, let her hand slip from between them to wrap around Joy’s waist, behind her back to clutch at the opposite shoulder.
It was a kiss for a desperate time. With fear chasing the lick of Joy’s tongue against her own as she parted her lips, with horror at everything they’d seen moved aside for this one, aching moment of connection that, Taren realised now, she’d been craving all day. The puff of hot, alive air over her cheek as Joy breathed out through her nose in relief at Taren’s response. The warm feeling of her mouth, her lips, her tongue. The gentle brush of Joy’s thumb over her cheekbone, the other hand sliding across her cheek, under her ear, and grasping behind her neck. The tug of fingers in her hair. The way the kiss turned from soft to hungry, to their bodies pressing together from their chests, their thighs, Taren’s back hitting the wall behind them as Joy pressed closer.
And then Joy was pulling back, cold air swirling between the two of them, Taren leaning forward to chase her lips. She opened her eyes, and Joy was so close, eyes soft and aching.
“Soon,” she murmured.
Taren pressed their foreheads together, taking a second to regain her breath. “Soon,” Taren agreed.
Xin would be rolling her eyes so hard at them.
Key in hand, they pulled apart, checked through the windows that nothing was moving, and put their hands to the handle. Unable to help herself, Taren darted forward and kissed her again, fleeting.
“For good luck,” she grinned.
Joy’s lips quirked up. “We need it.”
The door opened easily, and they were dashing back down. None of the bodies on the floor were moving, and Taren refused to look at Jim. Something crunched under her foot, and she peeked back to see the shattered screen of an old, pink iPod. People still used iPods?
Then they were through the door.
They stumbled into the room, Taren holding the key up in victory, everyone gathered at the far end of the room. Scott had tears of frustration in his eyes as he continued to try to jam the crowbar into a gap. Raj now had Xin propped against him, who was verging on more awake after the short rest. Taren’s eyes swept over her—she had a little more colour. She was breathing. Looking around.
Not a zombie. Yet?
Every single one of them turned to stare at Joy and Taren coming in.
Every single one of their faces lit up at the sight of them.
“We hope it’s the right one,” Taren said. “There were a lot.”
Every single one of their faces fell at the idea that it might not be.
“And you didn’t bring them all?” Natalie asked, eyes wild.
Taren’s cheeks went hot as she ran over, Joy right behind her. “I didn’t even think of that.”
Because she’d been getting kissed so thoroughly she could still feel the imprint of Joy’s lips.
She sucked in a breath, put the key to the lock, and it slid in easily.
Collectively, they all breathed a sigh of relief. It turned.
The door opened. A long, long cement tunnel ran ahead of them, dull red lights every few metres softly illuminating it. They stood huddled at the entrance.
“I don’t hear anything,” Scott said.
“Me neither,” Ro added.
“Fifteen minutes,” Scott said.
They ran.
Joy
2046
They ran so fast Joy’s chest hurt. Raj and Joy held Xin between them, Xin’s feet dragging at times on the ground, Xin biting her lip as they manhandled her too much. If they dared slow, Xin told them off.
Their footsteps bounced around them in the narrow space, the sound having nowhere to go. It made it sound like one hundred of them were racing down this never-ending, claustrophobic tunnel. Metre after metre of cement, the light an off-red colour from the lights Scott told them were lit by a generator. Emergency power offsite in case the hospital lost electricity.
Taren was right ahead of them, every now and again peering over her shoulder, gaze sweeping over Xin.
Once, checking on Joy, eyes snatching a look at her and connecting with Joy for the shortest of seconds that seemed to stretch on forever.
The pole in Joy’s left hand swung with each racing step forward. The weight of it was strange in her hand. She hadn’t trained a lot with weapons, compared to others in her class. She preferred unarmed. After putting it to use, she could confirm she definitely didn’t like it.
Taren’s arms swung as she raced along, and Joy once more let herself eye off the toned balance of her arms. Wrong of her, maybe, but she was secretly glad Taren’s shirt had been bled all over so she’d ended up in this top.
If they all got blown up because Joy couldn’t control herself for a minute back in that room, she’d be going straight to hell.
At least she’d always have the memory of Taren’s lips on hers in that moment, breathing life back into her when Joy had felt close to drowning. Nothing could have stopped her from kissing Taren right then, death clawing along behind them in the hallway, Taren so alive and eyes lit up with the key held aloft in front of her. What else could she have done?
Violence sat very ill with her, and the last few hours were never going to leave her.
If they lived past them.
“I keep,” Raj panted as they all followed the curve of the tunnel, “expecting to wake up.”
“Me too,” Joy agreed.
“Me three,” Xin rasped.
Joy gasped a pained laugh, the stitch starting in her side screaming at her. They’d slowed from the first racing pace they’d fled the hospital with, none of them fit enough to keep it up, refusing to leave one of them behind while they matched the slowest. Which was currently Joy, Raj, and Xin.
Taren and Scott both had an arm wrapped around their side, bent at the middle, though neither slowed. It was amazing how fast one could move when fear was creeping up one’s spine. Taren had made a joke to Joy months ago that she got puffed out walking up a flight of stairs. And now they ran.
Not stopping.
There was an unseen pressure on their tails, pressing into their backs. The feeling reminded her of when she was a child walking down a dark hallway, a prickling along her spine sending goose bumps as she was sure something was behind her, about to get her.
She didn’t know if it was the dread that there could be more of the dead chasing them, or waiting for the explosion to come any minute, fire racing up the tunnel behind to envelope them.
The thought forced a gasping sob out of her chest, which was thankfully swallowed by the sounds of their running.
“The door!”
Ro’s shout of delight echoed to them, and Joy lifted her head, catching sight of another metal door at the end. They reached it one after the other, standing in a huddle, breathing hard. That feeling at her back didn’t give pause, the pressure building until she was bouncing on her toes as Scott pulled his keys out. God, this lock better not have been changed. The keys jangled, the red light casting them in a weird haze. Joy bounced.
“Come on, come on,” Raj muttered.
The tension in their little group was crawling over every single one of them, as if the feeling Joy was experiencing was shared. It probably was.
Scott’s key slid in. It turned. The door creaked open. And they were racing up some stone steps, into a room filled with machinery Joy could barely recognise as generators with wires everywhere, the smell of petrol. They didn’t pause to take in the room, moving fast through the building to the door with light slicing through the sides. Scott got it open, and they were spilling into the outside, air hitting their lungs and all of them squinting from the dramatic change in dim light to bright, artificial light.
“Oh, thank God,” Natalie gasped, leaning over with her hand on her knee, axe dropped at her feet as she sucked in air.
Joy blinked, eyes tearing up in the unexpected brightness, tightening her arm around Xin’s waist. They weren’t in sunlight; it was too late for that. The strong lights were floodlights, set up to deter people from entering the generator lot. A tall wire fence surrounded the building they were in, barbed wire along the top. They were on a normal street, houses and smaller cottages along the road, gum trees and eucalyptus trees along the footpath. The street was empty.
Evacuated?
Just the sound of helicopters, coming from somewhere. They all peered up and around, but couldn’t see them.
The hospital couldn’t be seen from here. If Joy looked behind her, there was only the building they’d left, and behind that a tall brick wall of some kind of shop from the other side.
Not a shop. A supermarket. She knew where they were. She often stopped here on the way home to grab a few things for dinner.
The smell of salt finally hit her, reaching her through the smell of their sweat and who knows what else that covered their clothes. The beach was hardly five minutes from here, and everything in her wanted to walk into the ocean, let it wash over her. Scrub her fingers in her hair under the water. Cleanse the day off her.
“I know where we are,” Taren said.
“I’m parked close by, I don’t pay for parking at the hospital.” Scott started walking fast towards the fence, opening the gate there with his incredible chain of keys.
They all followed him, because what else could they do? They moved fast, eyes roving the roads and streets, feet crunching on gravel and rocks, a sound normally unheard when walking these areas. There should be traffic, the sounds of kids yelling. People coming back from the beach holding a surfboard under their arm.
The street was eerily still as they walked along it. In the car park, alone, was a giant silver dual cab ute with an open tray.
They wasted no time piling in, Natalie jumping in the back door awkwardly, axe on the floor at her feet and helping pull Xin in, who leaned against her in the middle with a sigh of relief. You’d think Natalie didn’t have a dislocated arm with how much she did.
“Is everyone gone?” Natalie asked.
“Looks like a mass evacuation,” Taren called from where she was climbing into the tray.
The ute started with a loud rumble, and Raj hovered at the door.
“You go in, Raj, I’ll get in the back with Taren. Ro, jump in the front.” Ro was half in the tray with Taren already, and hesitated, but then jumped off and jogged to get in the front with Scott.
“This is illegal, riding in the tray,” Joy muttered as Taren gave her a hand and pulled her up into the back to join her.
They both slumped with their backs pressed against the back window of the cab. Joy felt a burning gaze on her, and turned her head to see Taren looking at her incredulously.
“You’re worried about this being illegal?” she asked.
Joy shrugged sheepishly.
“Whose house is closest?” Scott called as he started to reverse out, his voice coming from his open window.
They all called out various suburbs and Scott finally called, “Taren’s it is!”
“I can direct you.” Xin’s voice, much weaker, reached them in the back and the engine revved as Scott took off down the road.
They quickly hit a main road that held a few parked cars, but still no people in sight, and as they turned onto it, the top floors of the hospital loomed behind the car, in perfect view of Taren and Joy. They pressed together in the tray, Joy with her legs stretched out and Taren with hers pulled up against her chest. Helicopters hovered over the hospital like looming black wasps that were gliding up, creating distance from the building. The sight of them was getting smaller as they drove faster and farther away. Helicopter searchlights swept over the building, big floodlights that seemed to eat up the darkness.
Then a hissing sound. Taren grabbed her hand and Joy pulled it into her lap, their fingers linked and squeezing too tightly.
Taren gasped. A jet flew low overhead, two more joining it, then another and another, the sound roaring, drowning out the engine, the sound of the helicopters, their breaths—though Joy may have been holding hers, for all she knew. Because before her eyes, each jet flew over the hospital, dark shadows dropping from each one as around the building, fading from view, lights lit up, the flame roared—those shadows hit the roof of each block, and the world seemed to rend to pieces. The sound was deafening as the explosion rocketed outwards and upwards, orange and red and yellow. Then the heat hit them, the force of the explosion rocking the car as Scott swerved to keep them under control and they sped down the road, leaving the smithereens of the hospital behind them.
It was over.
Taren
Must have been after nine p.m., since the government BLEW UP THE HOSPITAL
It wasn’t over.
There was no way that could be it, right?
Pressed against Joy, warm in the back with the cool spring air swirling around them as Scott manoeuvred them through eerily still streets, it would be nice to think it was all over. The hospital got further and further away, lit up in flame, smoke billowing into the darkened night sky. All they could hear was a distant roaring of fire, the thumping of helicopters. They’d turn a corner and the image of it would be gone, lost to houses or buildings, lost to a suburb, lost to inclines and perspective—just the smoke billowing in the clouds above. Then they’d turn again and they’d catch sight of flames burning, even from so far away, bright and endless.