by Radke, K. E.
Noah’s boots were losing their grip against the tile. He turned to Heath and shouted, “Time to go!” His side of the table was already pushed out and ghouls started to invade the room. There was enough to fill every nook and cranny.
The second he released the table, it smashed against his back and almost knocked him over. Unbearable noise rang in his ears as he scrambled for the storage room. A hand pushed him violently to go faster and caused him to crash on the ground.
Heath managed to pull the door to the storage room shut behind them and leaned against it. The entire wall shook when their pursers battered against the barrier. No one said a word until Wyatt spoke up, “Do you think that’s getting anyone else’s attention?” He nodded to the vibrating wall.
“The staircase is around the corner on the left. Second door on the right,” Jule informed everyone.
Lincoln glared at Heath, “Don’t bullshit me. Are you with us or not?”
Eyes flitted between the two men, Heath’s gaze on the floor. He finally lifted his head and locked eyes with Lincoln. Nodding, Heath said with determination, “At least until we get to the fourth floor.”
“That’s good to know. Are we ready to move?” Noah asked not really waiting for a reply. He took the first pack off the pile and had his hand on the machete ready to pull it from the sheath. Everyone stood up when Noah’s other hand wrapped around the doorknob. Wyatt settled in his rolling chair with an arm around the pack on his lap and a gun in his other hand. Heath took a pack and maneuvered himself closer to Gloria. Jule leaned against the cabinets doing her best to be dependent on her own two legs.
Lincoln pulled his mother into his arms and muttered, “Someone cover me.” Heath had proven himself untrustworthy, buckling under his instinct to survive. Gloria’s life depended on getting to the stairwell and Lincoln had no delusions about their safety if he carried her instead of Heath. He would not take the chance and guard Heath for him to leave Gloria behind at a critical moment.
“We have to go the other way,” Jule protested vehemently to Lincoln’s obvious plan to take his mother safely up to the fourth floor. She had to lean on Heath to help her out the door.
“I don’t have to do anything until my mother is safe,” Lincoln’s voice rumbled angrily like a petulant child.
Noah pulled the door open and peeked through the crack using the mirror to his advantage. Only two bodies lingered in opposite directions. He put two fingers up and slid out the door dispatching the one in their path before he went after the second behind him. One by one they slipped out, the sound of rolling wheels disrupted the silence through the halls.
In a single file line, they crept near the wall and stopped at the first bend. Noah glanced in both directions. Four cannibals were in their path and three more in the opposite direction. He signaled the others with four fingers pointing to the left and three to the right.
On tiptoes, Noah swiftly treaded to his first obstacle and swung the machete. It sliced diagonally through the head and the body collapsed. Jumping over it, the blade lacerated its next victim through the head and torso. Blood sprayed against the walls as the top half slid down before the body flopped to the ground in two pieces. Infected organs spilled out of the opening along with the spreading crimson liquid across the floor.
Wyatt was behind Noah and rolled into the middle of the hallway. He gestured for everyone to continue to the stairwell entrance without him and aimed at the three ghouls bounding forward.
Silent shots ripped down the hall. Wyatt shot the jaw twice before finally hitting his target and moved onto the next one. It was gaining ground and terror infiltrated his calm demeanor as he rolled backward missing each shot.
Anticipating a meal, the chomper closest to Wyatt swiped at him and gave him an involuntary push backward. The next bullet exploded out of the back of its head spraying the ghoul behind it.
Wyatt’s loud whoop changed into a cry for help when his chair was suddenly pulled from under him. Falling on his tailbone, he yelped in pain and then cursed at the sight of the third ghoul falling on top of him.
Death had finally caught him, and he turned his head away from the gray eyes and snapping jaws. He closed his eyes and automatically pulled the trigger. Something warm sprinkled over his face and the dead weight crashed on top him. Too late to escape his fate, he waited for teeth to tear him apart.
One eye peeked into a cavern of blood, tissue and teeth. The top half of the gray, sunken face blown to smithereens. Thick, ruby liquid dripped, and a handful of teeth fell across his chest when the body was thrown to the side. Lincoln’s face appeared above him and the man offered a hand to help him up.
They quickly hobbled the small distance to the stairwell entrance listening to an echo of hisses and growls. Noah made sure the door shut silently behind them and rolled the missing chair into view.
“What happened to my chair?” Wyatt asked collapsing in it. They were on a small landing with only two options—up the stairs, or out the way they came. Gloria was tucked into a corner leaning against Jule, and Heath’s massive form rested on the staircase.
Noah burst out laughing,” Lincoln pulled it out from under you too fast while trying to roll you away from danger.”
Ignoring the rest of them Lincoln pulled out the two walkie-talkies he confiscated from the tech shop earlier and turned them on lowering the volume. He made sure they were on the same channel before handing one to Noah.
“It’s one direction,” Noah’s gaze flickered upward and then landed on the gadget in his hand. He automatically clipped it to his belt and added, “But if you insist.”
“You’re going with Heath, Wyatt and my mom up to the fourth floor. And Jule is going to show me where the food is,” Lincoln divulged his plan zipping up his pack. He glared at Heath, “She better make it to the fourth floor.”
“Is there something we should know?” Wyatt asked with his eyes bouncing between the two men. “You know, before you leave us alone with him and we’re outnumbered.”
“Not to mention he can probably tear us apart with his bare hands,” Noah added not in terror, but with an envious tone.
“Judge me all you want, but I did what any man would do when coming face to face with those things. I wanted to run the other way, but I’m still here,” Heath replied.
“Because I would have killed you the second you turned your back,” Lincoln snarled.
Interrupting before the tension thickened, Wyatt’s diplomatic voice filled the tiny space, “Obviously there’s no danger here and Heath won’t have to make any self-preserving decisions until we go up four flights of stairs.” The longer Heath stuck around, the easier it would be for the group, considering they had two invalids—three if they included Jule.
“Let’s worry about food after we all check out the fourth floor—,” Noah advised before Lincoln interrupted.
“We’re sure of one thing. They’re hungry. And food will motivate Jule’s friend to help us,” he guaranteed.
Wyatt hesitated in the moment of silence and waited for someone else to point out the obvious problem with his plan. When no one else did he blurted out, “Taking her is suicide! She can barely stand. Both of you are going to die!”
“It’s not far,” Jule said trying to sound stronger than she really was.
“The cannibals are already moving into the territory we just cleared. This is our best chance but if you want to sit here and argue—.” Instead of finishing the thought Lincoln’s smug expression spoke for him.
“I’m going up,” Heath said and climbed down from his spot to lift Gloria into his arms. His footsteps echoed in the tiny space.
“This is a stupid plan,” Noah said with a tired voice and rubbed his face. “Come on Wyatt. Leave him to tangle with death if he wants to be stubborn.”
Noah started moving Wyatt’s pack up the stairs and then came down for him.
Before he started climbing, Wyatt said lowly, “Be careful. Food doesn’t matter if you’re already dea
d.” He used Noah as a crutch until he reached the handrail and started hopping up the stairs.
Lipstick fell from above and hit Lincoln on the shoulder. He picked up the small trinket examining it in his hand.
“Mark the way with lipstick. Just in case you have to find your way back alone,” Noah’s last bit of advice echoed in the stairwell before he disappeared around the corner.
Lincoln pinned Jule with his heavy gaze and asked, “Are you ready?”
She used the wall to lift herself and reached out for his help. Her legs were cooperating better than before, but she still had to lean on Lincoln.
“If you leave me to die out there. What name am I cursing?” she asked calmly.
“I’d prefer you curse Noah’s name,” he replied amused.
“His name is Lincoln and curse him now for all I care,” Noah’s voice carried down the stairwell.
Lincoln chuckled before his attention fell on Jule again. “Do you remember what I said before? In the loading dock?”
“Yes Rambo,” Jule mouthed off.
“Same rules apply,” he said stepping up to the door. He held out the lipstick to her, “Hang on to this for me.”
He peeked out and quickly pulled Jule over the threshold out in the open. Jule marked the door with a ‘x’, before they scampered back toward the morgue storage room.
Along the way they picked up two devoted followers and only stopped to mark every turn they made. Peering around the next corner Lincoln halted and took a step back. It was a four-way crossing. He glanced over his shoulder and saw four snapping jaws hunting them.
“There’s at least ten if we turn right,” Lincoln let the panic slip into his voice. “Four behind us. We’re going to be surrounded.”
Jule tried to violently push him away but he strapped her to his side when she whispered harshly, “Let me go dumb ass and start shooting!”
His grip loosened at her demand and she clung to the wall for support as they both turned right. “Watch my back,” he commanded.
One by one the skeletal bodies hit the ground and they trekked forward, the herd behind them growing from four to six. Jule scrambled against the wall and ignored the pain that flashed up her legs every time she fell. The distance between her and Lincoln was growing as he focused on killing the hoard in front of them. Her knee slammed against the tile again and a whimper escaped from her mouth. This time she stayed down and crawled as fast as she could.
Static and voices poured into the mix of growls and snarls causing Lincoln to glance over his shoulder. A doubletake made him realize Jule had disappeared. He trekked backward and smashed his pack against the solid wall to keep anything from sneaking up on him. Against it, he assessed all foes on both sides while searching for the lost girl.
The predators to his left ignored him and he followed their line of sight to Jule crawling on the ground. He shot the three closest to her before his gun clicked. Empty. Releasing the magazine he switched it out with the one in his pocket and popped in the new one. Static and voices vibrated against his waist and made him more attractive to the waiting diners.
He shot the remaining chompers on his right and dashed toward Jule lifting her with one arm swoop. Breathing heavily, he dragged her along until she said turn left and pointed to a door. She scraped the lipstick along the wall when Lincoln dropped her to fire at new ghouls approaching in the new corridor.
At the new door, she marked it before pushing her way into the office and pulled on Lincoln’s pant leg. He stumbled over her and fell against a desk. Jule used all her strength to slam the office door shut. They were plunged into darkness until Lincoln lit up the room with a flashlight.
With his gun drawn, he shined in in every nook and cranny before he finally set it down.
As Lincoln caught his breath, voices and static erupted over the steady thumps against the door they flew through. Snippets of arguing voices crackled over the walkie-talkie.
“What’s your nurse’s name?” Lincoln broke the silence.
“Heather.” Jule curled her knees into her chest on the floor with her back against the wall.
Lincoln pulled the device from his hip and hit the talk button, “Where’s Heather? I have someone here who wants to say hi.”
Jule glowered at Lincoln. The tone made it sound like he took her hostage. She didn’t say a word when he placed the walkie-talkie near her mouth. Losing his patience, Lincoln warned, “Cooperate or they all starve.”
He pressed the talk button again and her voice came out raspy, “Heather, it’s Jule. If you help them, the guy I’m with will bring you food.”
Heather’s voice blasted through the device, “What guy?! Are you hurt? Where are you?” Every word was coated with raging concern that only mother’s carry for their children.
“I’m fine. Don’t worry about me,” Jule replied hastily. Lincoln watched her cheeks turn scarlet.
After a few silent seconds, Heath uncomfortably said, “Uh—she said she won’t help anyone until she’s sees Jule.”
Growls, croaks, and thuds pounded against the door. Lincoln was trapped, and his survival depended on what he had left in the pack strapped to him. The attempt for food was suicide, but he took the chance and now the only person left in the world to help his mother wasn’t cooperating.
The irritation and fury lashed out in an angry growl as Lincoln spit, “If my mother dies. Jule dies. And when strangers aren’t useful, there’s no reason to keep them around.” The hint was easily decipherable.
For the first time when they made eye contact, Jule cowered and pulled her legs further into her chest. Terror raced across her face before she tried to hide it under a mask of indifference. Lincoln took off his pack and sat on the desk silently waiting for a reply.
“She refuses to talk to you now,” Heath answered. “But her hands are full because she has two patients to take care of.
“Heath.” Lincoln poured all his hatred into the name, the tone filled with warning. “I meant every word. I have no time for useless strangers. I expect my mother, Wyatt and Noah up there alive and well.” Each word was a crude promise of pain for whoever was listening. He made sure to enunciate each word carefully. A message within a message—a threat—that he had no problem keeping.
SIXTEEN
L incoln clipped the walkie-talkie to his belt muting it and swiped his arm across the desk growling in frustration at his predicament. Files and paperwork fluttered into the air while photos and trinkets crashed against the metal file cabinets surrounding them. Jule hid under her arms until he laid on top of the desk covering his face with his hands.
Clearing her throat, she softly said, “Whenever you’re ready.”
“Believe it or not I don’t have a death wish. Who knows how many are on the other side of that door. I have four magazines but eventually I’m going to run out of bullets. And whatever mess we leave behind is what we’ll be walking into on our way back.”
“Nice speech,” Jule began, “but we’re taking the door back there.”
Up in a flash, Lincoln turned in the direction of her pointed finger. A beam of light shined over the door in the back corner. He thought filing cabinets filled the entire space, but they were placed around the office to strategically make a path. Sliding off the desk, he maneuvered himself in front of the new exit.
Light flickered from one side of the next room to the other and tried to entice anything in there out of hiding. Silently listening for a few minutes, he finally swung the door open and flung the flashlight around an examining room. Machines, cabinets and an examining table stared back at him.
“Are you done?” Jule asked in a tone that knew all along it was safe to enter.
“No, I have to check what’s waiting for us behind the next door,” Lincoln said smugly. She rolled her eyes at his reply but knew he was right. He put his pack on and lifted Jule up only to set her back down a few steps later.
He placed his boot a few inches from the door so nothing behind it coul
d force it open and attack him.
“This is the maternity ward, one of the first areas they evacuated,” Jule whispered in the dark.
The door creaked ominously, and Lincoln held it slightly ajar staring into the dark hallway. Nothing charged at him and he crept over the threshold aiming the Glock 17. An orange glow spilled into the corridor from the other side and gave Lincoln enough light to see the pathway was empty—it also showed the remaining rooms they had to pass to get to the next intersection.
Strapping Jule to his side, they quietly took their time passing each entryway, holding their breaths until it was apparent the rooms were empty.
Near the end, Lincoln sped up the pace with only three more rooms to pass. Jule’s shoe squeaked across the tile and they both winced simultaneously. Footsteps rushed across the floor between a sprint and a shuffle causing them both to freeze and hold their breaths.
She appeared at the end of the hall, an inhuman croak rattling from her lips. Intestines dragged on the floor from the gaping hole in her stomach, and the thick, ruby liquid sloshed over the side spilling down her soaked pants. Cramped organs peeked out from the torn flesh and threatened to tumble out at the earliest inconvenience.
Ruby eyes peered at them as she cocked her head slowly to the left and released a low growling croak. Fingers twitched at her side and her neck ticked uncontrollably.
Lincoln tensed and pushed Jule away from him. She leaned against the wall and tried to see past Lincoln, who’d placed himself in front of her like a barrier.
The scarlet eyes followed his every move, like she was waiting patiently to attack him at the right time. He aimed the Glock at her head at the same time another growl erupted down the corridor. A different ghoul popped out from the intersection and Lincoln’s arm faltered.
“Fuck me,” Lincoln’s voice rumbled in shock. Jule gasped as the new parasite shuffled down the hall completely nude and clearly pregnant. Her arms and legs were rail thin, all the weight settled in her midsection. She waddled forward and struggled to walk straight for them.
