by Bobby Adair
I spied a street to the left and cut the wheels hard, skidding loudly. I sideswiped a parked car and drew the attention of a few infected up the street, who immediately came at me.
I checked the rearview mirror. At least a hundred frenzied infected were rounding the corner behind me.
The car wasn’t going to last much longer. I needed to stop and get away from it as fast as possible, or the infected would shred me in their frenzy before they realized that I wasn’t tasty.
I aimed the car at a sharp right-hand corner ahead. Past caring about damage to the sedan, I ran down two more infected and watched parts of the bumper and parts of bodies fly past.
I slammed the brakes as I rounded the curve, and angled toward another parked car.
The collision crunched painfully loud. The airbag deployed and slapped my face hard enough to bloody my nose. The horn bleated and didn’t stop.
I tried the door but it was jammed shut. I elbowed out the fractured driver’s side window and crawled out as quickly as I could with no thought to cuts and scrapes.
I fell free and hit the asphalt with a slap.
I got my feet beneath me, pulled the pistol, and shot two infected who were only steps away.
Thanks to Wilkins’ demonstrably shitty plan, I only had seconds to live unless I put some distance between myself, the wailing car horn, and the infected mob coming up the street.
A quick glance around told me I might have time to grab the M-4 off of the passenger floorboard and get away. To face the frenzied infected without it was certain death.
I jumped back through the window, scrabbling forward. I got a hand on the M-4, smashed my forehead into the cracked passenger side window, and broke it out as I fell through.
I hit the asphalt and rolled into a somersault that put me back on my feet. I was so surprised that it worked that I almost forgot to move.
I made a beeline for the corner of the nearest building and faced eight infected as soon as I made the turn. They were running toward the sound of the car, but caught a magazine full of M-4 rounds for their trouble. I didn’t slow down at all.
Two infected came up out of a stairwell to the building’s basement just as I passed. I shouldered the first one and tumbled them both down the stairs.
I spied a door just ahead and prayed that it wasn’t locked.
Fast feet and adrenaline got me there. I cradled the M-4 in my right arm and pulled the door handle with my left.
It opened.
I stepped inside and pulled the door closed behind me, cutting off the howls of the infected running up the side of the building. I needed a place to hide, and I needed it now.
I ran into a stairwell as the vanguard of the infected horde hit the door. Thankfully, it was another door that opened out, rather than in. Their collective weight held it closed as they struggled to get in, but that would only last for a moment.
I bounded up the stairs and passed two, then three infected. I gasped for air. The first floor door burst open as hundreds of screams filled the stairwell.
I exited the stairwell on three. The hall was empty. Thank God.
Elevator.
If I could get inside, I might be safe.
I ran up the hall and hit the button. The light came on and I waited.
And I waited.
The infected were on the stairs.
“C’mon.”
The infected were close.
The stairwell door slammed open loudly and the infected tripped over each other, spilling into the third floor hall. They saw me.
The elevator chimed and I stepped inside, pushing the button to close the door.
Safe.
I flipped the emergency switch to lock the elevator to keep it from moving up or down— fell back against the wall, slid down to the floor, and finally breathed.
Two breaths later, the elevator doors reverberated with the impact of bodies smashing into it.
Damn. Persistent fuckers.
Fingers started to squeeze their way between the doors.
I jumped to my feet, unlocked the elevator, and pressed the button for the lowest level in the building. The elevator complied, and took me down to the basement. I reloaded the M-4, leveled it at the door, drew several deep breaths to steady myself, and prepared to run and shoot. The elevator chimed and the door opened. Nobody was there.
I stepped out just as I heard the sound of several pairs of feet running up the hall.
Infected.
I pointed the rifle, but knew that if I pulled the trigger, I would never get out of the building alive.
The ogre and the harpy.
It was time to gamble that these guys weren’t in the frenzied mob that was following me, but were lingering in the basement and simply attracted by the elevator noise. I stepped back against the wall, lowered my M-4, and drew the pistol.
The infected slowed as they neared me, stopped, looked me over, saw my white skin, and realized that I was one of them. They turned their attention to the closing elevator doors.
I drew a deep breath and stepped up next to them. Blending in couldn’t hurt.
They spent a full minute searching the elevator for something worth eating. They somehow decided amongst themselves that it was empty, and they followed one another through the open rooms on the basement floor, methodically searching for a live human. I searched with them. With the frenzied mob running through the floors above and howling in frustration, I figured the camouflage of being in a small group of infected might keep me safe.
None of the horde ventured into the basement, but it took a half hour before the noise above diminished.
One by one, the infected in my group gave up the search and settled themselves into a shadowy corner of one of the classrooms where they squatted and stared. I watched them for a bit and wondered how long they’d stay there in the absence of a stimulus.
I found an empty classroom as far from the infected in the basement as I could get. I went in and gently closed the door behind me. Calculus formulae and equations waited on the chalkboards for students who would never arrive. Desks sat in neat rows, waiting for years of rust and rot to erase them from the world.
Sunlight shone in from the west through three window wells that also provided me an ankle-level view outside.
I needed to be patient. The car’s incessant horn was keeping the infected feet outside hurrying urgently around in search of prey. I’d have to stay hidden until they lost interest or the battery died.
I took a seat on the floor where I could lean on the instructor’s desk and be hidden from any eyes peeking through the door.
I was drenched with sweat. I was thirsty and had an adrenaline hangover. At least the room was cool, the floor was wonderfully cold, and I felt somewhat safe.
It was time to think through the next steps. The original plan of loading up the girls and driving them back was off the table. That bad plan had been based on too many old world assumptions. The tunnels were likely still full of infected from my adventure with Felicity earlier in the day. Sneaking back on my own was an option, but the girls’ dormitory lay just across the street.
I needed to think.
The cell phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out. It was Wilkins with a text message.
Wilkins: Zed, are you okay?
Me: I’m ok.
Wilkins: The girls said they heard a car crash.
Me: About that…
Wilkins: ?
Me: The car was an idea that sounded good but wasn’t. Your car is toast.
Wilkins: It’s wrecked?
Me: The car was a magnet for the infected. They swarmed it as soon as I opened the door.
Wilkins: But you’re okay?
Me: I got lucky, but yes.
Wilkins: Are you still going to try to get the girls, or will you come back?
Me: I don’t know.
Wilkins: Where are you?
Me: I’m in a basement classroom in the building across the street from Blanto
n.
Wilkins: I’ll let the girls know you’re there.
Me: Tell them to keep quiet. I need some time to figure this out. I’m open to any ideas you guys might have.
I got nothing back for several long minutes.
Wilkins: Nothing on this end. Will keep you posted.
Me: Ok.
I passed an hour in silence, with no ideas from Wilkins.
The shadows were growing long. The infected finally dispersed to wherever they preferred to lurk. I still had no idea how to get the girls back to the rest of the group, but sitting by myself in a basement wasn’t going to solve the problem. I texted Felicity’s friend Amber to let her know I was on the way, and that I’d knock very softly on their door when I arrived.
Chapter 26
Crossing the street was uneventful. Entering Blanton was no problem, as the first door I tried was unlocked. This made sense, since the dorm was in use for the summer session. In the recreation area, I passed at least a dozen infected women—former residents, I guessed—who squatted in a corner and eyed me as I passed by.
I passed the elevator, with its attractive chime, and slipped into a stairwell. I paused and listened. A few floors up, I heard the sound of the infected squabbling over scraps.
I quietly made my way up toward the sound. On the third floor landing, five infected girls were gnawing at someone’s remains—torn clothing, smears of blood, and ragged bones.
The infected snarled, and greedily pushed at me as I waded through. They had no intention of sharing with me.
A fat one squatted in front of the door at the top of the stairs and glared. She got irritated as I pushed past, but did nothing to harm me. I tried to close the door behind me, but she had shifted when I opened the door—her girth prevented it from closing.
The hall was empty in both directions. I took a guess and turned right, reading the door numbers as I walked. I arrived at the correct door and softly knocked.
No response.
Give me a break.
I knocked again.
A voice quietly asked from the other side, “Who is it?”
“It’s me, Zed,” I whispered. I heard noises from the stairwell and turned to my right. Nothing was coming, yet. “Open the door, please.”
I heard the working of the lock and then the door opened.
I stepped inside. A girl was behind the door ready to push it shut, but she pressed herself to the wall in fear when her eyes fell on me. A girl over by the window threw her hands over her mouth and screamed in wide-eyed terror.
“Damn it. Quiet.” I pushed the door shut, but heard a wail and the sounds of running footsteps coming up the hall.
The infected.
I turned to the girl and snapped, “What was that for?”
“I thought…I thought you were one of them,” she said.
“Damn it.” My frustration after a seemingly long sequence of fuck-ups was getting the best of me. “Does every fucking thing have to go wrong? Felicity should have told you about me. You two, get back.”
The girls moved over by the window. I stood in the center of the room and leveled my M-4 at the door, but I already knew that was a bad idea. Gunfire would draw every one of the crazy bastards from blocks around.
My mind raced for an escape plan but before the slightest inkling of a thought could gel, the door shook under the assault of a heavy body running at it. Fists pounded. The doorknob jiggled. The infected wailed and the door flexed.
“Shit.” Maybe I shouldn’t have said that aloud. “Have either of you used a gun before?”
The screamer nodded. The other shook her head.
“It’s easy. Point and pull the trigger. But be careful and don’t shoot me.” I handed them each a pistol. “The safety is off.”
“Let’s block the door,” the screamer said.
D’oh. Good idea. “Is that desk bolted down?” I asked.
“It moves,” the screamer told me.
“Great,” I said, “Help me get it to the door.”
As fast as we could, we stacked the bulky desks in front of the door as it rattled in its frame.
I leaned into the wooden desks, adding my strength to the weight. I felt each blow to the door as the wood conveyed the vibration of each fist blow and headlong rush. The girls found every heavy object in the room and stacked them in and on the desks, adding to the dead weight supporting the door against the assault.
With everything moved, the screamer took a position beside me and leaned into the desk. She leaned close to and whispered, “Will they go away?”
I nodded. I hoped.
Chapter 27
Over the course of an hour, the beating on the door dissipated, then ceased. The girls and I silently maintained our positions, holding the desks against the wall for a good while past when we heard the last of the noises disappear.
Finally, we relaxed. I sat on the floor with my back to the desk. Each girl sat on a bed, exhausted, fearful, and hopeless.
No words were spoken between us. The hour-long assault taught us the value of silence when we didn’t know how close the nearest ears might be.
I reached into my pocket for the incessantly buzzing cell phone and handed it to one of the girls. Worried, the others had sent dozens of text messages. In the absence of a response, Felicity probably feared that her friends and I were dead. I’d leave it to the girls to sort it all out.
One of the girls put a hand to her mouth and pantomimed drinking something from a bottle. She pointed at me with a question on her face.
I looked around the room. Empty water bottles and soda cans were scattered on the floor, but nothing that looked like it held any liquid. They didn’t have anything and I didn’t bring anything to drink with me. My past life presumption on the ubiquity of clean water just got killed. I needed to stop learning things the hard way.
I shook my head.
One of the girls, the dark haired screamer, picked up a notepad and pen. She wrote on it and showed it to me.
Amber.
She pointed to herself.
I nodded.
She wrote another name and showed it to me and pointed to the blonde.
Marcy.
I nodded and smiled.
Amber handed the pad and pen to me.
I wrote my name and showed it to them. Didn’t they already know?
Amber took the pad, drew a large question mark and showed it to me.
I shrugged. She got a determined look on her face, but Marcy deflated and sagged against the wall. I thought she might cry.
I closed my eyes and let my head down into my hands, resting my elbows on my knees.
I needed to think.
I heard the very faint taps on the screen of the cellphone as Amber communicated with the other group. The other dorm was probably three quarters of a mile to a mile diagonally across campus. That distance was swarming with infected, all with apparently endless appetites and irritating persistence.
Options again?
Save my own ass and leave the girls? No.
A car? No fucking way.
The tunnels? A gamble with bad odds and no sure escape if things went sour.
I was stuck ruminating on those three options. There had to be others.
The last light of dusk faded slowly from the sky and another hour ticked past. Darkness and shadows from the streetlights were all I could see through the leaves of the oak trees outside the window. I thought about whether the darkness would offer us any advantage in an escape. I knew I couldn’t see any better in the dark, and I didn’t imagine the other infected could either. We all still had the same human physiology we’d had before the disease struck. They had diminished brain capacity. We all had less pigment and dilated pupils. Oh, and one other thing I was coming to suspect—sensations of pain seemed to be all but gone. I felt everything just as I had before, but things that should have hurt so much that I’d normally cry out in pain, didn’t. The painful part of sensation was gone. I’d need to
ask Jerome about that.
An idea came to me but I needed to risk a conversation with the girls.
I scooted up on the floor and we all leaned in close together.
I bent forward and whispered, “So you guys texted Felicity, right?”
Amber and Marcy nodded.
“So you know the deal, then.” I looked at each until they nodded. “I have an idea to get us out of here so that we can join the others. Is that what you want to do?”
Marcy nodded.
Amber said, “If we stay here alone, it’s only a matter of time before…”
She was right about that; the fate that she couldn’t bring herself to speak. They would both die.
“I’ll be honest,” I said. “I don’t know that we’ll make it all the way across campus.”
Mary asked, “You think we might get stuck somewhere?”
“No,” I told her. “We might get killed.”
“Killed?”
“Yes.” I didn’t want to paint a rosy picture for them. They needed to know the honest reality in order to make their own choices. I didn’t want to carry the burden of a lie along with the burden of their deaths, if it came to that. “I think there’s very little chance that you’ll make it there alive.”
“But we have guns,” Marcy countered.
“It doesn’t matter,” I said. “There are too many of them. If we have to shoot, we’ll kill a few, but every infected on campus will come running. There are thousands.”
Marcy deflated and stared down at the nearly useless pistol. Fifteen rounds in a Glock would do little more than delay your death with a hundred infected coming at you. Guns were no solution when dealing with the infected. But guns bought time and time bought distance. Those were the things that could save your life. The only way for a normal not to get killed by the infected was to not be near them.
Amber asked, “If we stay, how long do you think it’ll be before someone comes to rescue us?”
I shook my head, “I don’t know. You probably know better than me. All I know is what Wilkins told me. I haven’t seen any news since, like, Saturday.”
Marcy hissed, “Amber, nobody’s coming. You’ve seen the news.” She dismissively pointed at me. “This is it.”