Tales of the Decay

by James Barton

  Beth lay back down on the bathroom floor, the sound of her boyfriend slamming his body against the main door echoing in her ears. For a few minutes she couldn’t move. She lay there going over things in her head that were past correction. What she should have done to prevent this.

  “Screw it, what do I do now?” she whispered.

  I must stop this from getting worse. I can’t allow him to escape and infect more people. Think, Beth, think. Okay, step one, call the CDC or, hell, anyone, she thought to herself.

  Beth reached into her pocket and jumped at the sound of another loud thud. Her pocket was empty. “Shit, the nightstand,” she said to herself.

  Beth stood up and faced the door. She had to do something and every minute wasted increased the possibility that an outbreak could spread. She surveyed the bathroom for a weapon. Pills, toilet paper, towels, little bars of soap, and a hair dryer were the only things she could spot. “Beth come on, get creative,” she mumbled to herself.

  There was another crash at the door and she could hear a commotion in the hallway. She reached up and ripped the curtain rod from the shower. It wasn’t much, but … and then she noticed it had bent when she pulled it down. It wasn’t metal, it was flimsy plastic. Beth threw it to the floor in frustration. She had seen in the movies people would break mirrors and make a shiv out of the broken glass, but the idea seemed both impractical and unwieldy. Beth’s eyes surveyed the bathroom one last time until she finally spotted her improvised weapon.

  Beth turned the handle of the bathroom door as slowly and quietly as possible. As it slid open just an inch, she put her foot against it. She bent over and picked up her weapon, the porcelain lid to the toilet tank. It was heavy and incredibly hard to move around, but it was the only option she had. As the door opened a few inches wider, she could see Dylan at the front door; he was facing forward and she was to his side. She hoped that if she was quiet enough, he might not notice her.

  The door was smeared with tiny red lines of blood as his fingers had become raw from the clawing. Tiny fragments of fingernails clung to his red meaty fingers. She winced, as her stomach churned from the sight. The distance between him and her was barely enough for one person to squeeze through. Dylan continued to moan and scratch at the front door and seemed to have no idea she was so close. Despite his monstrous appearance there was a part of her that still wanted to reach out and try to calm him down. Suddenly, there was the sound of thumping coming from the other side of the door, almost as if children were romping down the carpeted passageway. Almost. But Beth’s quickly evolving instincts told her that this time, it was doubtful there was anything fun going on out there.

  Even before that thought passed into the stale air of the room, Dylan froze and raised his head into the air, almost like he was smelling something, but there was no sound of breathing. Beth looked at him and the gap once again. She took one quiet, but shaky breath and faced what had to be done. I can’t slip past him, she thought to herself. She wrapped her fingers into the lip of the porcelain cover and closed her eyes. In her head was a flash of Dylan, picking her up and spinning her around the day of his military graduation. The man she loved had left and now she was alone with a monster.

  Beth shoved the door the rest of the way open with her foot and lunged forward. As she put all her might into a downward swing, she couldn’t help but let out a crazed war cry. Dylan turned his head toward the sound as the lid came careening down on the side of his head with a sickening thud. He crumpled onto the floor. Still pulsing from a mad rush of adrenaline, Beth vomited on the wall beside her.

  Dylan rolled onto his chest and weakly reached up and ran his bloody fingers across the bottom of the door. Beth’s eyes widened in shock. “I loved you!” she screamed as she brought the bloody lid down a second time, the veins and muscles in her arms bulged. This time, it connected firmly with the back of his neck and a disturbing crunch echoed through the room. “I loved you!” she screamed once more as she slammed the lid on top of his head, sending fragments of skull and clumps of hair into the carpet. The dull color of his brain peeked through and somehow, at that moment, she redoubled her assault. “I,” she screamed between the barrage of strikes, “loved … you!” After her repeated strikes, the porcelain lid broke into halves, an action that was glaringly symbolic of the break between the former lovers, and perhaps, between Beth’s former sane state and the one that left her standing here, covered in blood and gore. Her labored breath was pulled through gritted teeth, beneath eyes of pure wildness. On the floor at her feet was the body of her lover; only at this point, it would be difficult for anyone to identify him.

  Beth collapsed to the floor, her arms burning from the attack. She wanted to cry, she wanted to throw up again, but the only thing she could think of was her next move. Beth slowly climbed to her feet and staggered over to the nightstand. She picked up her phone and turned it on. Staring back at her was a picture of the two of them. “Not now,” she said and, surprised, wiped a tear from her eye. She pressed the phone icon and attempted to make a call. “No Service” flashed at the top of her phone. Beth threw her phone against the wall and picked up Dylan’s. It opened directly to his most recent text messages. If you aren’t back here by tomorrow, I will personally have you arrested for desertion. Don’t say I didn’t warn you, read a message from Sergeant Carter. Beth read through the messages and found that Dylan had been ordered to return, but he had refused, saying only, I won’t leave her. They were mobilizing for something big.

  Not now, I, I can’t, Beth thought as she tried to push away an approaching flood of emotions. But the thought of her love risking everything to watch over her sent her over the edge. She covered her face and began to cry uncontrollably, realizing too late that her hands were covered in blood … his blood. She had beaten the man she loved to a pulp with a toilet lid. She rolled onto her side and cried even harder into the stale hotel carpet. After a few minutes, she was left with a runny nose and only soft whimpering as she had no more tears to shed – she had nothing left to give.

  But that wasn’t really true, was it? There is always that one last thing. She sat up abruptly, sniffed and released a sigh of acceptance with a sad smile on her face. She crawled over to Dylan’s bag and began rummaging through it. Here is another thing they’d arrest you for if they knew, but I guess that doesn’t matter anymore, she thought to herself. She pulled out a black pistol and eyed it like a child spying on her Christmas presents early. Beth ejected the magazine and looked down; one silver casing shined back at her. She assumed it was probably full, but she only needed the one.

  She reloaded the magazine and took a deep breath.

  “How Romeo and Juliet of you,” he said sarcastically.

  Beth looked up startled. There was the man from her nightmares, the man from the hospital. He stood in the corner of the room with his arms folded.

  “You’re not real,” Beth said defiantly and chambered the round.

  “Oh, I’m real. Now come on, you don’t really want to do that, do you?”

  “Why not? There is nothing left for me here.”

  “Wanting to die, that’s a desire I’m still trying to comprehend. You know, you still have a lot of bullets there.”

  Beth pointed the gun at the man and fired a single shot. The startling sound of the gunshot in the small confines of the room, combined with the pistol’s powerful recoil nearly caused her to drop the weapon. Her ears ringing, she peered through an acrid cloud of smoke to see that nothing had happened to him.

  “Don’t waste them! Find a use for them.”

  “You’re not real,” she repeated, shaking her head.

  “You can’t hurt me, but trust me, I’m real enough … and I want to help you,” he said in a voice that was hard to disbelieve.

  “Help me? How?”

  “You might be ready to die, but those bullets could save you … and other people. It just seems so … wasteful. Try to save others, it’s worth a shot, no pun intended. Here’s yo
ur chance,” he said and pointed to the door. “Try.”

  “What the hell are you …” Beth began, but was interrupted by someone pounding on the door. She looked at the entrance and then back at the man, only he had vanished.

  Outside the door, a French girl was screaming something. Her panicked words overran Beth’s limited French, but she understood the word for “please” well enough. It wasn’t hard to understand what the girl wanted.

  Beth jumped up and ran to the door. She unlatched it and a young woman wearing a blue housekeeper dress, fell into the room. They locked eyes for a moment. The freckled woman had black eye makeup that had smeared from tears. The woman pointed to the door and screamed something about “Porte.”

  Beth heard footsteps and, without a second thought, shoved the door, but before the door could close, it bounced back into her hard enough to knock her on her ass. Beth wobbled to her feet and before she could make it back to the door the woman had slammed it shut and was leaning with her back against it. Beth slid the additional locks into place and a familiar sound wafted into the room. It was the sound she had heard from Dylan … the sound of a monster trying to get through the door.

  “Do you speak English?” Beth asked the woman.

  The woman stood up and wiped her brow. She responded with … well, not English. Beth knew that under the circumstances it was wrong, but she was glad to have someone with her. Beth pointed to herself, “I’m Beth.”

  “Mona,” she responded. “Onglish, peu … little,” she added slowly, giving the universal two-fingered hand signal for something small.

  “So, what do we do now?”

  Mona gave Beth a look that showed she didn’t understand. Mona put her hand on the door and looked at Beth. “Merci.”

  “I couldn’t leave you out there,” she responded. Mona stood up and walked over to the window and looked toward the port. Normally, this would have been an amazing view. It was a view that overlooked both the small market and the docks. Mona pointed.

  Beth walked over and followed her finger. There, in the water a couple dozen feet from the dock, sat the ferry. It bobbed lazily and lifelessly in the water. There was activity on the deck, but from this distance, it was impossible to make out details.

  “That ferry isn’t going anywhere,” Beth said and shook her head.

  Mona squinted and then shook her head and tapped the window. She pointed again, this time holding out a small key with a foam fishing bobber attached to it. On the foam bobber were the words “Mon Ange”. As Beth scanned the area, she noticed there were quite a few personal boats near the ferry. It had to be what she was pointing at.

  “You have a boat?”

  “Oui, boat.”

  “Screw it, let’s go,” Beth said.

  Mona grabbed her arm tight and pointed to the door with a look of fear in her eyes. Beth pulled the pistol out and showed it to her. Mona’s eyes lit up as if hope had been restored. Beth knew that she only had 14 rounds and her aim wasn’t very good, but what other choice did they have? It was what the ghostly image had told her to do, try.

  The noises from outside the door had stopped. As she left, she stepped over the corpse of her boyfriend. Beth remembered it was bad luck to do that, but then again, their luck had run dry already. Beth pointed at the door and Mona slowly reached for the handle. They both took one deep breath before she jerked the door open. Only an empty hallway loomed before them. Beth stepped into the hallway and looked around. In front of the emergency exit was a small woman in athletic attire. She swayed drunkenly and seemed to stare through Beth. The woman was six rooms down, too far for Beth to safely take a shot.

  “Mona, we have to get closer.”

  Mona peeked out around the corner gripping a small fragment of broken porcelain in her hand. The distant woman let out a gurgling scream and began to charge toward them. She ran at a full sprint, but her legs flailed about like they had both gone to sleep.

  Beth squinted and pulled the trigger and missed entirely. Beth fired again and struck the woman cleanly in the neck. The injury didn’t even register with the crazed woman and she continued to come barreling toward them. She was too close, one last chance. Beth panicked and jerked the gun before the trigger was completely pulled. It sent the last round through the woman’s stomach.

  The woman crashed into Beth with so much force that it knocked both her and Mona to the ground. The weight of the woman rested on Beth as she came face to face with a once beautiful girl, only now, her eyes seemed full of insanity. Beth’s arms were pinned between the two of them as the woman put her hands on her shoulders and lifted herself up slightly. It was iconic, the scene where the vampire reels back its head to bite the neck of its victim, only this was no vampire.

  The woman came down quickly and the sound of clicking teeth drifted into Beth’s head. Beth wriggled her arm free and Mona screamed directly into her ear. Beth put the gun to the woman’s temple and pulled the trigger. There was a spray of blood that temporarily blinded Beth. It left her with blurry red vision filled with the sound of Mona’s screams.

  “We are okay, Mona, we’re okay.”

  Beth threw the girl aside and wiped the blood from her face. Mona spun over and began to spit on the carpet.

  “Are you okay?” Beth asked.

  Mona drove her finger in her throat and forced herself to vomit. Through the chaos, Beth didn’t quite understand what she was doing. Not right away. Mona had received a mouthful of the woman’s blood. Beth didn’t know how exactly this contagion was transmitted, but dammit if that wasn’t an obvious one. How long it would take to manifest was still a mystery.

  Mona stumbled to her feet. She looked at Beth with a defeated look and began fishing through her pocket. She pulled out the boat key and held it out. Beth responded with a look of confusion. “Trade,” Mona said while pointing at the gun in her hand.

  “Wait, no. You don’t know if you even have it yet. You can’t just give up.”

  “S’il vous plaît,” Mona said, her pleading eyes sending a clearer message than the well-recognized “please” that came from her mouth.

  “Now you see how frustrating that can be. Girl gets a little cerebral fluid in her mouth and now wants to call it quits,” a man said from behind Beth. This time she didn’t turn around or acknowledge him.

  “Come on, we’re leaving,” Beth said and yanked her up. Mona didn’t argue and instead walked behind her like a whipped dog. They made it to the small staircase that reached down to the lobby. At the bottom of the stairs there was one infected man eating the corpse of another. Despite all that had happened up to now, Beth still had to hold back the urge to heave.

  Beth motioned for Mona to stay put and be quiet. Beth peered around the corner and the man was quite distracted. She did the math in her head, ten rounds left. They had to clear the lobby, sneak six blocks to the docks, and get the boat working without being overrun. It sounded impossible, but she was pissed now. Seeing Mona ready to end it made her question how she could have felt the same. If she was going to go down, then yes, she was going to go down shooting.

  Beth crept down the stairs and lined up her sights. She used the railing to steady her aim and she slowly pulled the trigger, waiting for it to go off. When it fired, it created a glorious spray of brain matter onto the red carpet. An even more a chilling sound echoed from the hallways below. It wasn’t just a scream; it was multiple screams. Inhuman wails echoed through the hotel in response to that last gunshot. Beth ran to the top of the stairs and grabbed Mona by the arm, an arm that strangely felt cold and waxy. Beth felt like she was dragging a corpse.

  Giving the young girl a shake, she said, “Mona, stay with me.”

  “She is really turning fast. This might be a world record, you think?” the voice taunted from behind. Again, Beth ignored the apparition.

  A teenager in a hoodie flung himself around the corner of the stairs below. He rushed forward and tripped. He climbed awkwardly up the red-carpeted stairs, snarling and
clicking his teeth as he rose up each step. Beth shot at him and struck him in the shoulder. She fired again and this one blasted through his nose. It was a wound that even made her shudder as he flailed about. He stopped climbing and instead just twitched and tumbled down the stairs. As he hit the last step there were two other people trying to ascend.

  Beth fired down at them and before she could take a second shot a third person came barreling down the hallway. “Shit!” Beth took a defensive step backward and they seemed to be closing in from every direction.

  “Trade!” Mona cried in a hoarse wail.

  Beth looked over and Mona’s eyes were completely red and a stream of drool was running down her chin. Mona slammed the key into Beth’s free hand. Was this it? Was this what Beth had saved her bullets for? Instead of taking her own life in room 214, she gave a girl a brief glimpse of hope and would then shoot her dead. Mona would be spared the pain, only to leave Beth to a gruesome mauling.

  “Deal,” Beth whispered and let Mona drop to the ground. She put one round through her head. The next moment Beth felt the weight of a football player slam into her as the charging man slammed into her. She fell on her back holding the gun firmly. Beth waited, she couldn’t fend them all off, but dammit if she wasn’t going to try. A few seconds went by and there was a sad moan coming from the man. Beth climbed to her feet and pointed the gun at him. His head was slumped over and he began to wander back down the hallway. Beth took a few steps toward the staircase and the two people had completely frozen. She took a few steps down and they simply stared into nothing.

  “What the hell?” she said to herself.

  She winced as she stepped around the two people on the stairs. There was no reaction from them whatsoever. She didn’t want to push her luck, but she had to know. Beth kicked the back of one’s shoe. It turned around and looked toward its foot and yet she seemed invisible.

  Beth walked out the front door of the hotel into the scene of a disaster movie. Smoke billowed from buildings and there were wrecked cars everywhere. As she walked down the old stone road, she could feel eyes upon her. Only these were not the eyes of the infected, it was living people. She could feel them hiding in their rooms, it was the only safe place for them. They had to be asking how she walked through the streets untouched. Hell, Beth was wondering the same thing.