The Last Legacy (Season 1): Episodes 1-10

by Lavati, Taylor

  A door loomed before us. I stopped behind Jim, touching his back with one hand and holding my gun with the other. As Jim shook the handle, I realized how quiet this place was. Nothing moved at all, no groans or eaters shuffling around. The noises from outside were blocked by the covered windows, so pure silence overtook the room. It was a jarring difference from the bombings and screams I’d grown accustomed to.

  Jim checked the door with the side of his shoulder, but nothing happened. He tinkered with it, something clicking and jamming and then he stepped back, the door opening with him. The noise from the click echoed in the emergency room. I still hung onto the back of his jacket.

  “You can pick locks?” I asked in amazement. He shut the flashlight off. My heart jumped, beating hard against my chest as a lump formed in my throat. He still didn’t answer me.

  I couldn’t see a thing, my breath starting to pick up. His hand found mine, and he pulled me forward, into what I suspected was the room. He shut the door behind us and let me go. The flashlight illuminated the room. Jim waved it over the lines of shelves. We hadn’t hit a jackpot, but there were some supplies left.

  “The lock was pretty good. Must have held up against looters,” Jim mumbled as he perused the room, lifting bottles and reading their labels. I followed behind him because without a light, I was useless.

  Jim passed me a small plastic grocery bag, and I held it open for him. He threw in random bottles and boxes until the bag was nearly full. The sides of the plastic expanded with the shape of a box of gauze, nearly ripping. I lifted it to my chest and supported the bottom with my forearms.

  “Is there Advil?” I asked Jim as the beam hit my eyes, nearly blinding me in the otherwise dark room.

  “I got you three bottles of the generic stuff,” Jim answered. His hand rested on the small of my back as we moved along the wall.

  “Thank you.”

  “Let’s hurry and get this stuff back to Kev. Just follow me out.” Jim quietly wiggled the handle and pushed open the door, but it didn’t budge. It bashed against something and shut.

  He pushed again, but the door banged, not letting us leave. Jim shoved the door with his shoulder, and then I heard it. Eaters cried on the other side of the door, the moaning picking up.

  They must have seen or smelled us and followed. They began clawing and banging on the small door. Fingernails scraped away at the wood. My stomach rolled.

  We were cornered in a small supply closet.

  We were fucked.

  My breathing shortened into small gasps as I tried to inhale. My head began to spin. I stumbled back against the far wall, almost passing out. Jim caught me by the elbow before I collapsed. I looked up at him.

  “Get your shit together. I need you strong if we’re getting out of here,” he grumbled. His fingers brushed against my cheek. The coldness shocked me back to reality. We were stuck in a room with a blocked door. The walls appeared to be narrowing, closing in on me. The shelf pressed against my back, and I held onto Jim’s arm.

  “I just—I don’t—I’m not ready to die.” I shook my head, squeezing my eyes shut. I wasn’t ready for this. I used to accept the fact that when death came it was meant to be—the whole ‘everything happens for a reason’ philosophy. But I couldn’t believe that now. I wasn’t ready to die yet. My chest tightened.

  “You’re not dying here, Lana. Trust me.” He grabbed my shoulders and held me straight, looking me dead on.

  “I just—“

  “Stop,” he said with a stern voice. His hands trailed up to my neck. He grabbed either side of my face, right below my ears and held me in place so I couldn’t move. “Breathe,” he coached me as my chest pulsed. “Breathe through it, then fix the problem.”

  I nodded, inhaling a shaky breath. I held the air and exhaled, letting my shoulders fall as my heart slowed. I swallowed through my dry mouth and then breathed again, slowly and focusing on the beats. One, two, three: in. One, two, three: out.

  “I’m fine,” I told him, partially lying. He let go of me, my body immediately noticing the loss of his hands on me, and flicked on the flashlight.

  “I need you,” he told me, shining the light onto the ground between us. The tiles were so shiny they reflected the beam of light, making the room just a little clearer.

  A loud bang hit against the door, and I jumped. I slapped my hand over my mouth so I wouldn’t scream, but all the work I had done to lower my heart rate dissolved. Tears sprang up, and my pulse pounded in my ears.

  “You stand behind me,” Jim said as he placed his hand and shoulder against the door. “I’ll crouch with my knife, so you just shoot and don’t stop until I tell you.”

  “No,” I said shaking my head with widened eyes. “I’m not good with the gun. I’ll hit you.”

  “I promise you won’t.” His eyes connected with mine, and I shivered. “I’ll move right. No matter what, you won’t hit me. But if they start to get too close, you shut the door and you wait in here.”

  “Wait in here for what?” I whisper shouted.

  “I will come back for you.” His voice trailed, but for some stupid reason I believed him. I knew the chances of him returning if things got heated were slim to none. What he was basically saying to me was if they overran him, I’d be dead. Another eater slammed against the door, this time making the wood warp and shake, but I didn’t jump this time.

  I inched backwards as Jim’s eyes narrowed in on me. With trembling hands, I lifted the gun. I widened my stance and waited. I bit the inside of my cheek while I told myself I was strong. I could do this. I could help Jim, not hinder him. The corner of his lip lifted while he twirled the knife around his knuckles.

  “Here,” Jim said as he handed me the flashlight. “Shine it forward so I can see what’s goin’ on.” I took the light and held it in my left hand, the gun in my right. I flashed it across the door, lighting the white paint up.

  Without giving me a warning, he bashed his shoulder against the door. It opened just a crack, pushing back against him. I lit up the small opening, my hands shaking as the growls grew louder, bodies shadowing each other.

  An eater wearing teal scrubs lunged into the doorway, grabbing Jim’s upper arm. The greenish fabric over her chest was coated in blood like she’d eaten someone recently. Jim knifed her in the head and she fell. Her body acted as a doorstop.

  But instantly another eater replaced the nurse. This one had regular clothes on, but a cord hung from his neck. His arms reached for Jim, and I saw the IV still dangling down from the crook of his elbow.

  “Watch out!” I yelled as another eater piled over the first. Jim ducked and shoved him backwards, knocking away two more eaters who tried to attack. Jim jabbed him through the mouth, and the one below through the eye.

  My body shook as my breathing sped. I needed to help more. I stood with the flashlight trained in front of me, showing Jim the most immediate threats. I couldn’t see how many were around us, the flashlight only extending so far.

  My stomach spun as the light shook uncontrollably. A loud groan rang out, seeming louder than all the rest. Jim grunted as the door cracked apart, the pieces almost hitting him over the back. An eater tried to get over the barrier, his body now half stuck in the jagged wood of the broken door.

  The folded door split right down the middle. Jim shoved the half of the door nearest him upward and used it as a shield, pushing more nurses backwards. I stepped forward as he did so I wouldn’t lose sight of him.

  Jim fell backwards as a man with a blue polka-dot smock ran into him. His hands were covered in matching blue gloves, a sterile cap over his near-black stringy hair. Jim caught himself in the doorway, but the eater was too close. I shot the gun and hit the doctor-eater in the shoulder, knocking him backwards. I didn’t kill him, but I bought Jim extra time.

  The eaters continued forward towards us. My hope completely faded to pure nothingness. We were cornered, and now we didn’t even have a door as protection. I couldn’t swallow the spit in my
mouth. Jim grabbed onto my hand with my gun and stood beside me. His eyes softened, and I knew we were giving up.

  “Over here!” someone yelled from behind the eaters. I didn’t want to move the flashlight, but the voice completely caught me off guard. Jim stepped forward with added confidence, slicing eaters and throwing others to the side.

  “Come on,” Jim said, waving his arm back at me. He hugged the wall as I shined the light for him. Something bright waved just past us. I watched as a dim white light shook near where the door was. Was this a dream?

  I shut my eyes and shook my head, trying to clear my thoughts. Was I hallucinating? I looked towards where the light was and now saw a dark figure, just barely visible. I froze just outside of the closet.

  “Lana, what the fuck?” Jim grabbed my elbow hard and dragged me against the outer wall. The flashlight pointed downwards, and we were left in the dark. Jim stood in front of me, his back pressing against my stomach. He fended off the eaters who seemed to come out of nowhere.

  “There’s a man,” I said, staring straight at the figure, pointing to show Jim. I couldn’t tear my eyes away despite the fact that I wasn’t sure he was even real. I watched the silhouette kill eaters with what looked like a long sword while a little white light swung around with his movements.

  “I think we’re hearing things. I need you to focus,” Jim begged as he refused to look where I pointed. Jim lunged forward, catching an eater in the eye with the sharp end of his knife. No more eaters replaced the one that just fell. But I heard more getting closer, their moans growing louder.

  “Jim!” I yelled. I grabbed his head, using the lull to my advantage, and turned it so he could see the man in the doorway, close enough that we could make a run for it. I was either completely losing my mind, or there actually was a man. Jim fell silent.

  “Move along the wall towards him. But stay close to me.” Jim shoved my back forward as I hugged the wall. I pointed the light on the ground, stepping over fallen bodies and thick puddles of blood. The normally white tile had been destroyed by scratches and stains. My fingers rubbed against the cold white walls as Jim’s hand rested on my lower back, guiding me towards the man. Each step felt monumental.

  “I have supplies,” the man said when we were close enough to touch. The darkness of the room shielded his face. But his words came out strong. “Come on.”

  “We have others,” Jim said from behind me.

  I heard the moan first and then felt Jim’s arm jerk away from me. Completely caught off guard, I swung around and raised the light to aid Jim in seeing the eater. He was on his knees. I pulled out my gun as Jim flipped to his back, but before I could pull the trigger, the man swung his thick-bladed weapon down on the eater’s head.

  The skull split right down the middle, goo and brain matter spilling onto Jim’s stomach and the floor. I helped Jim stand, shutting my eyes so I wouldn’t see the gruesome body.

  “Hurry, get out of here!” The man swung his sword around, cutting through two eater’s foreheads at the same time. He chipped their heads right off their bodies.

  Jim grabbed my hand before I could fully process what I had just seen, and pulled me out the door in front of the man. We crouched through the smashed glass and emerged into the fresh air. I pulled the bag of medicine off my shoulder and placed it on the ground.

  The man followed right behind us, stepping through and then surveying around us. His dark eyes darted around the narrow sidewalk. He pointed along the side outer wall.

  “Help me get this,” he commanded. He put his weapon down on the ground without making a noise and ran to a metal bench that was pressed against the brick wall. Jim handed me his knife, handle forward, and ran after the man.

  They lifted the bench up together, both grunting with the heavy weight. When they were in front of the broken door, Jim dropped it, covering the small opening we used to get in. When it was situated how the men liked it, they both sat down on the curb, eaters clawing and banging just behind the new bench barrier.

  “Who are you?” Jim said through heavy breaths as he waved me down.

  “I am Gabriel, a doctor here. Who are you?” the man countered back, looking me up and down. He was dark-skinned but had light eyes, brown but almost green when the sun hit them just right. His frame was leaner than Jim’s. I sat down next to Jim, my arm snaking around his back.

  “I’m Jim.” He held out his hand to Gabriel, who took it and half-smiled. “This is Lana.” Jim gestured over to me with a jerk of his head. I nodded, not offering my hand.

  “You said you have others?”

  “They’re out by the front sign. We needed supplies. One of us has been bitten.”

  At Jim’s words, Gabriel sprang up from the sidewalk, backing away from us with his eyes widened and eyebrows pinched. He held up both hands, palms out.

  “Which one of you?” he asked.

  “Not us,” I said, shaking my head.

  “You mustn’t keep him around. He needs to be killed immediately.”

  “He’s fine,” I told Gabriel as Jim pulled me up. He stood behind me, both of his hands on my shoulders, gently squeezing.

  “He’s infected. Does he have a fever yet?”

  “We don’t know. He was just bitten a few hours ago,” Jim said. He had an amazing poker face. I glanced up at him, features hardened and emotionless.

  “Let me inspect him?” Gabriel asked, lifting his dark brows.

  “Sure.” Jim and I agreed and then began to lead him where we left Scarlet and Kev. I reached back down for the bag of medicine.

  The large blue sign came into sight, and we broke into a jog, Jim leading the way. Scarlet jumped up from her sitting position just below the wood sign and waved to us. I hiked the plastic bag of supplies over my shoulder as it slipped down to my elbow.

  Scarlet sprinted to us but suddenly stopped when she saw the dark figure behind us. She took a step back and glanced over her shoulder at Kev, who used the side of the sign to help himself stand. He struggled and put no weight on his infected leg.

  “Who’s that?” Scarlet asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

  “This is Gabriel.” Jim reached towards me and took the plastic bag off my arm. He held it open and rummaged through it.

  “He’s a doctor,” I added, thinking it might help.

  “Can you fix Kevin?” Scarlet asked, looking past me. She leaned forward and unfurled her arms. Her eyes were no longer narrowed, but widened as hope flooded them.

  “I’ll need to look at the wound,” Gabriel said. He sounded diplomatic. He didn’t answer her question, yet he got what he asked for. Jim passed two orange bottles to Scarlet as he walked the last couple feet to Kev.

  “I just need an Advil, and I’ll be fine.” Kev’s face dripped with sweat, his complexion pale and kind of gaunt. He looked as if he had the flu and had just thrown up for hours on end.

  “Can I take a peek at your leg?” Gabriel asked, holding back. “I’m a doctor.”

  “Sure,” Kev answered. His eyes darted between Scarlet and the doctor. Gabriel knelt in front of Kev, his khaki pants coated in dirt and blood. Kev’s pant leg cinched at his knee from where Jim had tied it.

  “Do you know anything about the outbreak?” I asked Gabriel as he stared at Kev’s leg, not touching or moving it at all. I stood behind him as I watched with curiosity.

  “I was at Yale during the initial outbreak. I transferred here to help with those infected. I wasn’t a traditional doctor. I mean, I do plastic surgery. But I know what I’m doing.

  “After checking out a couple who had been infected, I think it’s pretty clear that this was no accident.” He glanced up at Jim and nodded towards the bag.

  Jim handed it over, and Gabriel started to rummage through it, the plastic swishing. “My understanding is that we were attacked by a CW. Some sort of psychotomimetic agent and toxin must have been at play to cause such a reaction.”

  “Wait,” Jim said, shaking his head. He leaned against th
e sign by Kev, his shoulder pressed into the wood while his hand rested on his hip. “I don’t know what you’re saying. You’ll have to explain.”

  “A CW is a chemical weapon made by the government. They’re illegal to create, but we all know that doesn’t mean shit. The psychotomimetic agent is what will create the zombie-like state. Back in the fifties there was a CW called BZ.”

  “It did this?” I asked. I didn’t fully understand what he was saying, but I knew it meant what was happening wasn’t an accident. I just assumed another country bombed us, but the effects were accidental. Clearly, that wasn’t the case. We were in worse shape than I thought. It explained where the military must have been—busy with the monsters and not the attackers. But if it was made on purpose, there had to have been a cure or understanding of the effects and how to fix it.

  “The main effect of BZ was that it raised body temperature to such a degree that victims would lose consciousness, hallucinate, or fall into a coma. The effects lasted weeks. But the drug wasn’t stable. Sometimes it would react in ways that did nothing, and other times the victim would instantly die.”

  “If it’s really a weapon then there has to be a cure, right?” I looked up at Jim with a hope laced between my words. If this truly was an attack with chemicals, there had to be a fix. We could get our old world back. I resisted the urge to smile.

  “That’s the thing,” Gabriel said with a shake of his head. He coughed into his elbow as he slipped a pair of latex gloves on. Pulling out a brown bottle, he flipped the top open and poured some clear liquid on Kev’s leg.

  “Shit!” Kev screamed the second the liquid splashed in his wound. Jim reached forward and held Kev against the sign, making sure he didn’t move too much. Gabriel continued to pour the liquid until the bottle was fully tipped over, the last drop dripping over the bloody gash.