Both guards gripped my arms and dragged me out until I was face to face with the padded room door again. I could hear Mac’s corpse pounding away on the inside. A woman in full SWAT gear and a plastic shield was nodding at Josh. Josh opened the door, and before Mac could charge through, the woman with the shield bashed it into his face and shoved him backwards with surprising strength. Mac flew back into the room and I felt the plastic ties fall from my wrists. Once freed, I was pushed in next. The door slammed behind me as Mac’s corpse got up. The small room smelled of rot and infected wounds and lemon Pledge.
Mac was too fast, and I barely missed being tackled by him as I fled to the other side of the room. I wouldn’t be able to knock him down and bash his head in like the last one. He was too freshly turned. It was like facing a regular person—an insane person intent on ripping you to shreds. He let out a snarl and launched himself at me again. I would have to use his height and weight against him.
I stood still until he got close enough and then reared to the side, sticking my leg up. Mac tripped, but righted himself when he landed on the wall. Shit. This would only work when there was no wall to help him stay upright. I swallowed. There was only one way to do this. Mac ran back at me and I met him halfway, then dove at his legs. He fell over me and I tried to roll away, but his weight landed on my left side. I kicked out, trying to wedge him off of me.
He grabbed at my feet, pulling off the slippers in the process. I felt his teeth sink into my foot and then pain shot up my leg. I screamed and used my other foot to smash his head. His teeth let go and I scrambled out from under him as he was busy eating the chunk he had taken from my foot. My foot was pulsating with pain, but I had to force myself to ignore it.
I pulled the switchblade from my pajama bottoms and flicked the blade out.
“I’m so sorry, Mac.”
He was lying on his stomach so I got to my knees and brought the blade down on the base of the back of Mac’s head. When he didn’t stop moving, I pulled out the blade and jammed it in at a different angle, toward the brain rather than just straight down. His hand that had grabbed me again while I was trying to stab him, fell off my leg and landed on the cement floor. The rest of Mac’s body went lax.
I kneeled over his body for what felt like hours. My foot was throbbing; the nerve endings felt like they were on fire. The door creaked open and Carlos stepped through. He had a syringe in his hand. Fuck that. As soon as he was within range, I gripped the hilt of the switchblade tightly and lashed out in a sudden movement to take him off-guard. The blade landed in the inside of his upper thigh. Before he could react, I yanked it out and stabbed him again in the same area. I was hoping to hit the main artery there. Blood poured down my arm, leaving red tracks like a morbid tribal tattoo.
Carlos let out a very high-pitched scream and dropped the syringe as he fought me off. I felt nothing now except my need to exact revenge. The pain in my foot—and heart—was gone, replaced with a need to punish. He moved out of my range as I went in for a third stab, so I missed, the blade hitting the messy, blood-coated floor. It was hard to tell how much blood he was losing since his pants were black, but judging from the amount on the floor, I had hit my target.
Carlos retreated back into the corner of the room as his hands pressed to his wounds. His eyes met mine, and they were shocked and scared. Now he knew how it felt to be powerless. Josh and the other guard stormed the room. Josh ran to Carlos and the guard came at me. I stood fully, and took a swipe at the guard’s face. He reared back, the blade waving in front of him uselessly. I charged forward, but he kneed me in the gut and I crumpled to the ground. He stepped on my hand until I released the knife. It was either let it go or have him break my hand.
Once I let go, he kicked the knife away. I was too busy fighting the pain in my stomach to stop the needle that was jammed into my arm. The pain started to ebb as the drug kicked in. I felt delirious and couldn’t stop the laughter from bubbling through my lips. I didn’t need to see their faces to know that they were horrified. Then all I could see was the stained cement floor come closer and closer to my face, before I saw nothing.
Chapter 8
When I woke up, my first thought was about how surprised I was that they hadn’t killed me. My next one was that my foot really hurt. I opened my eyes to find that I was back in my solitary cell. I wiggled my injured foot, and then panic took over. Rearing upright, I pulled my left foot to me to examine the wound. They had cleaned it and dressed it in mounds of gauze. Slowly, I undid the white wrappings to find that when Mac had taken a bite of my foot, he had taken my pinky toe as well. Oh my God, I’m missing a toe. I stared at the red and angry patch where my toe should have been. Somehow this wound was more of a shock than all my others, and I didn’t know why.
I hastily rewrapped and tied off the gauze and tried to ignore the fact that I was now missing a body piece. It was shallow to care so much about a toe, but I couldn’t shake the shock. I gave my cheek a slap.
“Get ahold of yourself,” I said out loud.
My hand went to the waistband of my pants to find the switchblade gone. Right, I had to use it. On Mac. I chewed on my lip to help distract myself from crying. Mac was dead and it hadn’t been a quick death either. He had suffered.
“Stop this!” I hissed at myself. This train of thought wouldn’t help me get out of here.
I had no idea how long I’d been out for. They had managed to bring my limp form to solitary, clean and dress my foot, and even Carlos’s blood had been wiped off of my skin, so it had to have been at least a few hours. The lights were on in the hallway, so it must still be day time as well.
I swung my legs off the bed and tested out putting weight on my injured left foot. It hurt, but I needed to be able to run. So I got up and tried walking around. As long as I kept the brunt of the weight on the inside of my foot and mostly on the heel, the pain wasn’t as bad. Although I looked super gibbled when I did that. I rubbed at my eyes. This was not ideal for an escape because my running speed was now hindered. Shit. I went up to the small window and looked out as much as I could. There was a guard posted to the left of my room. I guess I was now considered a high-risk prisoner.
The fluorescent lights flickered above me and out in the hallway. The guard posted at my room shoved himself off the wall and looked around as if he was worried. I didn’t think we had ghosts to worry about, but running out of fuel for the generators was a very real threat. He relaxed and leaned back along the wall. I was about to bang on the door when the lights went out fully. The room was close to being pitch black thanks to the fact that there was no window to the outside in here. Emergency lights flickered to life in the hallways.
The guard was now gone. I craned my eyes to try to see further down the hallway. He wasn’t there either. He must’ve taken off and with him, the keys to my cell. What if they abandon the place and leave me in here to rot? I needed to escape, but how? I frantically looked around the room. There was a toilet and sink and cot. That was it. I yanked off the single mattress to get to the sparse metal bedframe. It was simply four metal slats on legs, interconnected to form a rectangle.
I leaned down and examined the corners. It took some arm strength, but I was able to disconnect the one. I stood up with the one end of the slat in hand and pulled until it was free of the other connected corner. This would hopefully work as a lever to wedge open the door. I peeked out the small window to the hallway to see two guards go running by, their forms more like shadows moving in the low emergency lights.
They paid my room no heed. I stuffed the flattest portion of the bedframe piece into the apex where the doorframe and door met and then heaved. The slat slipped out of the apex and fell to the ground, slipping out of my sweaty hands. I let out a huff of air and wiped off my hands on my pants, then tried again. I strained against the slat, trying to leverage the door away from the frame. This was an old hospital. The frame wasn’t made of metal or whatever you usually saw in newer hospitals—it was still wood.
If all the breaking and entering I had done over the last few months were any indication, this would eventually work; it just needed some elbow grease.
I set the metal bedframe piece down to catch my breath from all the exertion. My usual amount of strength was zapped from the stress and lack of calories. This might end up taking a while. Once I got a second wind, I jammed the metal piece as close to where the door lock was as possible. The door creaked as I shoved the rod. The door gave an inch on the frame, but didn’t open.
The sound of gunfire stilled my efforts. Holy shit. What was happening? Were the others using this as their chance for escape? Were there infected? I needed to get out—now! Using my entire body to put pressure on the lever, I heaved. The door flew open and I fell to the floor as the lever had nothing more to brace itself on. I jumped up with the metal piece in hand—it would have to do for a weapon. When no one came rushing to my room, I looked out to see the immediate hallway empty.
The emergency lights were few and far between, making it hard to see fully. I stayed low and crept down toward the direction of the cafeteria. Another couple of muffled gunshots had me stop and duck. They were coming from somewhere inside the hospital. I kept moving until I hit a crossroads. I peeked around the corner to see a bunch of commotion. It was hard to make out, but it looked like the group of prisoners in the cafeteria had stormed the doors and were fighting off the other guards. Should I try to use them as a distraction and try to escape myself? Or should I try to help them and gain some allies for the escape? My choice was made for me when the skirmish made it further down the corridor, almost reaching me. A couple of pajama-clad prisoners bolted past me. We locked eyes, but they kept running.
One of the guards chased them, then lifted their rifle and shot the escapees dead. Their bodies fell face-first to the ground. My mouth flopped open. How could they just mow down the immune people they had collected?
The guard was within my range, but he hadn’t seen me hiding around the corner yet. I paused with shallow breaths, waiting for him to reach me. When I saw the tip of his rifle to my right, I waited just a little bit longer for him to take two more steps until his head was in my view. Then I lifted the lever, brandishing it like a spear, and jammed it into his neck. It wasn’t very sharp, but the force still made the metal pierce his tender neck.
He dropped his assault rifle as we crashed into the opposite wall of the hallway. His hands flew to his neck as I yanked out my makeshift spear and he collapsed on the ground. I avoided the guard’s eyes as I grabbed the rifle and slunk back to my vantage point around the corner. The rifle wasn’t a model I was familiar with, but it was semi-automatic judging from the way the guard had shot the two immune people.
It was armed, but I didn’t want to fiddle with the magazine release to check to see how many bullets were left. I would have to take my chances. I propped the frame piece against the wall and slipped around the corner again to see the unmoving body of the fallen guard. His neck was still leaking blood like a dying pump. I supposed I should feel bad about that, but I couldn’t muster any remorse for killing a guy that had shot two unarmed people in the back. Keeping low, I approached the riot. The other guards weren’t shooting their guns; instead they were fighting in hand to hand combat against the prisoners. I spotted Leo just as he took a hefty fist to the face. Rose jumped on the offending guard’s back and began punching him. The guard spun around to dislodge her and she slid off of him and onto the floor.
He raised his own assault rifle like he was about to bash her brains in with it, but I pulled my trigger before he could. The rifle jerked in my arms, but I still managed to hit the back of his right shoulder. The guard crumbled to the ground and suddenly all eyes were on me. Shit. The remaining guards wrestled to free their own weapon, but the other prisoners weren’t going to let them.
The leader of the tough guy, white-power crew steamrolled one guard, and I winced as I swore I could hear the sound of something snapping. I used the distraction to run to Leo and help him to his feet. Rose had gotten on top of the guard I had shot and was pummeling him with her fists. The guard raised his one good arm to fend her off, but she was still managing to land hits.
I wasn’t paying attention as I hurried over to help Rose and almost tripped over something. I looked down to see another dead prisoner. Her neck was twisted at an odd angle with her face turned to stare at the carnage. I grabbed a handful of Rose’s shirt and yanked her backward. She fell off of the guard, her fists flying all over the place. It would have been comical in another life. Once she was clear of the guard’s body, I aimed the rifle.
“No, don’t!” he yelled, trying to sit up. I ignored his protest as I pulled the trigger.
He fell back to the ground, dead, with a bullet hole between his eyes. At this close of range, I wasn’t going to miss even if this wasn’t the AR-15 I was familiar with. Both Leo and Rose stared at me with their mouths open.
“Still got one more!” a strained voice boomed behind me.
I whirled around to see the big guy struggling with the last guard. I lifted the rifle to shoot, but it clicked empty. The prisoner let out a harsh breath as if saying, “Fine, I’ll do this myself I guess.” He punched the guard again and again until the guard went slack. I didn’t know if he was dead or not, but I didn’t care. All that mattered was that he was out for now.
There were only about eight of us left standing. Among the group was the white-power leader, Leo, Rose, George, myself, and three others—two girls and a guy. This was hardly enough people. The tough guy ripped the rifle from the guard he had just punched the shit out of and popped out the magazine.
“It’s empty,” he growled, and tossed the pieces back at the fallen dead or unconscious guard.
That explained why they weren’t simply shooting everyone. They had no ammo. Rose checked the rifle of the guard I shot and it was the same thing—out of bullets.
“These were practically for show the whole time!” Rose yelled.
“We need to get moving,” I said. “Who knows where the rest of them are at.”
Rose looked me up and down through narrowed eyes, as if she were seeing a different person. “Didn’t think you had it in you.” In some weird way, it sounded like I had just earned her respect. Leo, however, eyed me warily. “Where’s Mac?”
I bit my lip. “Amelia killed him.” Leo didn’t ask anything more.
I turned to George, and mouthed “map.” He reached into his housecoat pocket and produced the book he had scribbled in. We all huddle around him as he flipped it open to the back where his hand-drawn schematics were. The tough guy saw us and hurried over.
“What’re we lookin’ at?”
“George drew us a map from memory,” I said.
“And how the hell would he know somethin’ like that? He’s retarded!”
“He’s deaf, not stupid, you asshole,” I hissed.
The guy shot me a look, but quickly turned back to the map.
“How are we going to get through the locked doors?” Leo asked as he cradled his sore face.
“Pat down the guards,” I instructed. We checked the pockets of all the fallen guards, but only one had a set of keys on them—the one that I had skewered with the bedframe piece. Thankfully, no one felt the need to comment on what I had done. I set down my now empty rifle and picked the metal rod back up.
“Think these are the ones we need?” Rose asked, holding the keys in front of her face.
“We don’t really have a choice, now do we?” the tough guy replied, then turned to me. “Pass that here.” He held out his hand for the only weapon we had.
“No way in hell,” I said. “Find your own damn weapon.” He took a step toward me so I held the piece of frame like a bat.
He stopped and took a step back. “Fine, then you get to be in the lead.”
“That’s fine with me,” I said. At least if I was in the lead, they couldn’t leave me behind should my missing toe slow me down.
I turned to
face George, making sure he could see my mouth. “Where to next?”
He turned the book on its side, then pointed straight. Rose gave me a nod, like she was confirming George’s instructions. I swallowed; my nerves were shot. I had no idea how this was going to turn out. One literal wrong turn meant death. Stamping down my unease, I started in the direction George had pointed. We moved at a slow pace, looking around us.
One of the female prisoners gasped and clamped her hand down on her mouth when we passed by the fallen bodies of the two prisoners the guard had shot. The others had to prod her along, making them fall a few yards behind us. George tapped my shoulder and pointed to the left, indicating that we had to turn that way when we came to the end of the hallway. One of the emergency lights wasn’t working, so the crossroads that we were slowly approaching appeared darkened and uninviting.
“You hear that?” the tough guy asked.
I was about to ask if that was a crack at George when my ears picked up the sound of rasping and growling. We peered around the right corner to see a group of infected—some crouched, tearing into a fallen body.
“Run!” I yelled and we bolted left, away from them.
A bunch tore themselves away from the feeding frenzy to pursue us. The other three prisoners were too far behind us and the infected cut them off. The one girl screamed, and they bolted back toward the cafeteria.
“We have to go back for them!” Leo stopped to yell.
I grabbed his arm and yanked. “They’re on their own now, we need to move!”
Leo looked from me to the crowd of approaching infected, his brows drawn. With his head down, he finally starting moving again. The tough guy had already bolted to the end of the corridor and was currently body slamming the emergency doors on the left. We sprinted to him, putting some more space between the infected in the hallway and us.
I halted long enough to tell him, “They won’t open,” and then kept following the hallway as it turned to the right.
This Would Be Paradise (Book 3) Page 6