Dorm Life

by Camille Picott

  “There is way more to my recipes than buds and coconut oil!”

  “You two need to get high and fuck already,” Johnny says.

  That shuts up everyone. Lila, red-faced, storms off and slams her bedroom door. Eric stalks into the kitchen and bangs around in the cupboards, rifling for something. He makes enough racket to wake the dead, but Carter’s mom doesn’t stir.

  “Way to go, bro.” Reed exchanges a fist bump with Johnny. “I thought they’d never shut up.”

  “It’s called shock value,” Johnny replies. “A valuable writing technique when employed effectively.”

  Reed heads toward the door. “We going on a raid, or what?” he says to Carter. I’m surprised he even heard Carter’s plan above all the arguing.

  “I’m going,” I say. No way do I want Carter venturing into other rooms without someone to watch his back. I don’t trust our stoner roommates.

  “Room raid?” Eric stops his banging in the kitchen. “I’m going, too. I’m all out of brownie mix.”

  Reed snorts with amusement. “Planning to make some of your famous brownies just to needle Lila?”

  Eric grins. “Maybe.” He jams his feet into worn sneakers.

  “Woah.” Carter holds up his hands. “This is a raid to help my mom. That’s it.”

  “Dude, we can help your mom and get brownie mix,” Eric says. “Besides, if we need to take down any of those things, you know I’m good with my spear.” He hefts a sturdy chair leg from the pile in the entryway. The handmade weapons, created on the fly when we were trapped in a dorm room, have become our go-to zombie-killing weapons.

  “I’ll stay here,” Johnny says, scratching at his enormous sideburns. “Someone has to look after our new roomie.” He indicates Carter’s slumbering mother, who has yet to stir in all this commotion.

  “Why are you coming?” I ask Reed.

  “I’m bored,” he replies, once again fluffing his afro with his hands.

  “Look, this isn’t a joke,” Carter says. “You all know what we could encounter in the other rooms.”

  “All the more reason for you to have backup.” I smile sweetly at him, shoving a chair leg spear through my belt. “We’re going to help you, babe. Get over it.”

  2

  Clearance

  JENNA

  “You’re risking your life to help your mom.” As soon as I say the words, I realize how lame they sound. Families are supposed to help one another. That’s what normal people do.

  Carter glances up as we file into the hallway. There is exactly one other confirmed empty dorm room on this floor. The only reason we know it’s empty is because we’d been hiding in it until it caught fire and we’d been forced to clear it. Unfortunately, a search of that room yielded a handful of Band-Aids. We have to raid more rooms to find the things Kate needs.

  “She almost died to keep our family together,” Carter replies. “The least I can do is get her some calamine lotion and other stuff to help her heal.”

  “My mom once ran two red lights to get me acne cream before prom,” I reply.

  Carter chuckles, leaning down to plant a kiss on my lips. I wrap my arms around his waist and return the kiss. I don’t think this boy has any idea how crazy I am about him.

  “Don’t worry, babe,” Carter says. “I’ll kill zombies to get you acne cream if you need it.”

  I whack him on the shoulder, grinning despite myself. Carter always knows how to make me laugh. “If our cell phones still worked, my mom would tell you to get me makeup and skin toner while you’re there.”

  “I’ll add it to my list.”

  “We should check out Kevin Cassidy’s room,” Eric says. “That guy wanted to be a medic. I bet he has first aid stuff.”

  “Good idea,” Carter says, heading three doors down.

  I follow him with the others, tightening my grip on my spear. We should have done this days ago instead of huddling inside the safety of our room. There are valuable supplies in the other dorm rooms, supplies we are eventually going to need.

  We cluster in front of the plain brown door, staring at it in silence. After a moment, Carter raises his spear and raps it against the wood.

  At first, nothing happens. Carter raps several more times.

  Something thumps against the door. We jump back, all of us instinctively raising our spears.

  A few seconds later, another loud thump vibrates the door. Through the wood comes the sound of moaning.

  “There’s at least two of them,” Carter murmurs. “Eric, you brace the door. Try only to let one of them come out at a time.”

  Eric nods. He grips the door handle, positioning his feet on the floor.

  Reed, Carter, and I form a half semicircle near the opening. This method of clearance has been dubbed Attack and Stack. We learned it from Kate. It means stacking our opponents in a narrow opening so they can’t all rush us at once.

  As I raise my chair leg, holding it like a spear, I feel like a different person. I’m not the daughter of a plastic surgeon who grew up in high-speed Southern California amid people who spent their days worrying about fashion and hairstyles. I’m not the girl who dreams about graduating from college and starting a business with her boyfriend.

  That girl doesn’t kill people. That girl is a person who likes to draw, paint, and antagonize her materialistic mother.

  This girl who wields a wooden spear is someone from a different world. This other person is necessary. She has to come out from time to time to survive.

  At Carter’s nod, Eric turns the door handle.

  A zombie throws itself into the opening. Eric shoves his weight against the door to keep the thing from barreling into us. The creature’s shoulder gets lodged in the doorway, its arm swiping out at us.

  I dart forward and jam my spear through the narrow opening. I get a brief glimpse of a face, one white eye exposed as the zombie snarls and tries to reach us. I recognize Kevin, the medic-in-training.

  My stomach clenches, but I force myself to act. I sink my spear into his blind eye, grimacing at the squishy feeling as the wood punctures his brain.

  I yank my spear free. Kevin slumps down. A second zombie clambers over him, pushing against the opening. The door swings open another few inches.

  “Hold it!” Carter leaps forward. He attacks the girl in the opening. I recognize her as Kevin’s girlfriend. I think her name was Jennifer. Carter’s spear smashes her nose and pierces her face. She thumps to the floor, dead.

  “Now that is a perfect Attack and Stack,” Eric says, wiping sweat off his nose. “Your mom would be proud, Carter—”

  “Look out!” Carter shouts.

  A third zombie smashes into the door. It flies open, throwing Eric off his feet. A boy named Stewy, half of his arm chewed off, launches himself straight at Reed.

  Carter and I surge forward as Reed is thrown to the ground. He has just enough time to raise his spear, but it bursts through Stewy’s midsection. The zombie lands on top of Reed, snarling and snapping.

  With a shout, I shove my spear downward. It glances off the side of Stewy’s head, only managing to scrape off a portion of his scalp.

  Damn it! I haul my arm back, preparing for a second strike. Reed is screaming, pushing desperately against Stewy’s sternum in an effort to keep from getting bitten.

  Carter’s spear punches through Stewy’s skull. Blackish-red blood spatters everywhere. Stewy gives one last snap of his teeth before collapsing.

  “Fucking shit!” Reed shoves Stewy away and leaps to his feet. “Motherfucker.” He swipes at his face and clothing, presumably to clear away the blood. All he manages to do is smear it. “That guy and I used to get high together.”

  “You all right?” I ask.

  “No, man,” Reed replies. “I need to get high. You guys are on your own for this shit.” He turns away and heads for the stairwell, the heavy metal door banging shut behind him as he heads downstairs to the lounge. Reed has a favorite couch down there where he likes to nap aft
er getting stoned.

  “You guys okay?” Carter looks me and Eric up and down.

  “I’m okay,” I reply, peering into the dark interior of the dorm. “Do you think it’s empty?”

  “Nothing else is charging out at us,” Eric observes.

  “If there is something else inside, it’s probably behind a closed door or it would be here with Stewy and the others,” Carter says. “I think it’s safe for us to go in.”

  I draw in a breath to steady my nerves, reminding myself we’re eventually going to have to clear every room in this building if we hope to pull together enough supplies to survive for a while. It’s been a growing point of frustration with me that no one has been interested in taking a serious look at the dwindling supplies in our dorm kitchen. We’d all be going hungry by now if not for Lila’s weird obsession for buying in bulk at Costco.

  The three of us creep into the dorm. Blood is smeared all over the floor and across one wall. In the kitchen lies a body, most of it eaten down to the bone. I cover my mouth and nose with one hand, trying not to be sick.

  Carter squeezes my shoulder before leading us the rest of the way inside. A quick search of the rooms and closets shows the place to be deserted. I even check under the sink for good measure. We found Johnny hiding under the sink of our room after we cleared it.

  “You go help your boyfriend,” Eric says, opening the cupboards. “I’m on brownie mix patrol.”

  “Pull out everything you find that’s edible,” I reply. “We’re going to need the food.”

  Eric replies with a noncommittal “Uh-huh” as he rifles through cupboards. I purse my lips in frustration and head off in search of Carter.

  I find him digging through a closet in one of the bedrooms. I opt to search underneath the bunk bed. I don’t even know if this was Kevin’s room, but it seems like a good place to store supplies.

  I don’t find any medical supplies, but I do find a case of unopened Clif bars. Score. I pull it out and deposit it on the desk near the window.

  The blinds are open, giving me a full view of the parking lot below. Flies gather on the pile of bodies off to one side, a black amoebic mass that shifts and roils. At least two dozen vultures hop around on the bodies, pecking at eyes and tearing off strips of flesh with their beaks.

  “Vultures have an amazing biological design.” I make my voice light, trying to ignore the sick feeling I experience every time to see all the bodies.

  “How so?” Carter joins me at the window.

  “Look at their heads. No feathers, just that rubbery skin. Perfect for sticking inside dead things to eat.” I sigh. “Maybe humanity will evolve like that in another hundred years.”

  “I just had a disturbing mental image of hairless humans with rubbery red heads.” Carter wrinkles his nose. “Thank God this will all be a bad memory in the history books before that happens.”

  I give him what I hope is an agreeable smile, even if I don’t agree. Everyone except me seems to think this is a storm we have to ride out until the government gets its shit together and cleans up things—I’m not convinced—but it’s not worth arguing about. There’s enough arguing in the house about pot and video games. Throwing the future of humanity into the mix will only give me a headache.

  My gaze twitches back to the flies, the vultures, and the dead. Carter and I could have easily been among the pile if not for sheer dumb luck. Dumb luck, and Carter’s clear thinking in a moment of crisis.

  AUTOMATIC RIFLE FIRE. Screams.

  Carter and I, holed up in a tiny dorm room, peered through the window. Hummers and a military tank rolled down Granite Avenue. We barely escaped my infected roommate when she attacked and tried to bite us. Now we hunkered down in the suite next door. Eric and Reed, two of the guys who lived in Creekside, were with us. Also with us was Lila, whom we’d found running hysterically through the hallway.

  “What are they doing?” I whispered. “Why would they bring a tank onto campus?”

  “Some of the worst outbreaks were at College Creek apartments on the other side of the school.” Eric puffed on a joint, taking long, desperate drags. The glowing tip was the only light in the stuffy room.

  “My point exactly,” I said. “Shouldn’t soldiers be helping anyone who’s not infected? Like, helping us evacuate? They don’t need tanks for that.”

  “Maybe it’s standard protocol.” Reed snagged the joint from Eric, taking his own desperate drag. “You know, when going into an area hit with a biological disaster.”

  A bad feeling settled in my gut. I pulled out my phone and called my mom.

  As the call connected, I heard muffled music in the background. “Mom? Are you guys okay? Are Rachel and Lisa with you?”

  “Hey, weirdo.” Rachel’s voice came over the line. My little sister, though only fifteen, managed to speak with an air of authority that comes from a lifetime of getting what she wants.

  When she was little, it was because she had a mop of blond curls and big, innocent blue eyes. By the time she was thirteen, she had the figure of an adolescent supermodel and wasn’t above flashing a smile or her cleavage to get what she wanted. Mom always said I could learn a lot from my little sister.

  “Rachel, put Mom on,” I said. “There is some crazy stuff going on up here. I don’t know how widespread it is, but you guys should load up on supplies and get out to the cabin, just in case. Stay there for a week or so until all this blows over.”

  Rachel makes a sound of disgust into the receiver. “Look, I know you have a lot of crazy non-conformists and sweat lodges up in hippie-ville, but don’t get your panties in a twist. Police and military are keeping the streets safe around here. There’s a curfew in place, which makes it hard to hang out with friends, but—”

  “Rachel!” It’s all I could do not to shout into the phone. “We have armed soldiers with guns on campus. I think things are more serious than we’ve been led to believe.”

  This earned another grunt of disgust from my little sister. “This is what you get for picking that stupid school. You had a scholarship to Loyola, Jen. None of us knows what you were thinking. And don’t get me started on that hairy boyfriend of yours.”

  The sound of gunfire makes us all jump. I drop the phone, crowding around the window with my companions.

  “Jen? Jen, what the hell?” Rachel’s voice carried from the dropped phone, but I barely registered her words. “Whatever. Call us back when you’re done being a freak.”

  The Hummers disgorged dozens of soldiers, all of them in full battle armor. Even more flowed out of the tank. Everyone was armed. They spread out down the street, machine guns poised to fire. They looked like they were headed into a Middle Eastern war zone, not a tiny college campus in sleepy northern California.

  “Oh, shit.” Carter pressed his index finger against the glass. “Look.”

  Coming up the road was a cluster of white-eyed, loping students. They were bloodied and wounded, some more grisly than others. Some had nothing more than a bloody arm or leg, while others had gaping necks and deep cavity gouges.

  “That’s why they’re here,” Lila announced, voice shrill with anxiety. “The soldiers are protecting us.”

  My hands grew clammy as I watched the white-eyed students surge up the road.

  Zombies.

  The word was impossible. Or so it had seemed only a few days ago. But I’d seen enough to know exactly what those white-eyed people were. Carter and I had seen them tear into fellow students too many times to count.

  Maybe they’re rounding up the kids for the CDC. The CDC tents on the outskirts of town had been here for over two weeks.

  Were they going to round up the sick, carnivorous kids? Put them in holding cells while the CDC worked on a cure? Worse, would they put them in a concentration camp? There were so many of them, and it wasn’t just students who were infected. All over the small town of Arcata, people were attacking and biting other people.

  Fire leaped from the tips of the machine guns, launchi
ng a barrage of lead into the oncoming students.

  I screamed. Carter grabbed me, holding me close, but I couldn’t peel my eyes away from the horror. As bullets flew from the machine guns, students collapsed to the ground, felled by headshots.

  “They can’t do that,” Reed whispered, glued to the window beside us. “They can’t just kill people.”

  “They’re sick.” Eric’s voice cracked with emotion. “They need help.”

  Then one of the soldiers turned his weapon on a nearby dorm. Perhaps he saw a sick kid in the doorway. Who knows? Whatever the reason, he opened fire.

  What happened next was nothing short of a stampede. Screaming students poured out of the dorm. Some scrambled out windows and tried to scale down balconies. Others tried to barrel out the front door.

  Some were sick. I saw blood-smeared bodies and white eyes that almost seemed to glow in slack faces. But there were more healthy students than sick ones.

  And then all the dorms seemed to open and spill forth students. We even saw people from Creekside flooding out the front doors. My muscles twitched, the sight of so many fleeing students making me want to flee, too.

  “Dudes, we gotta go.” Reed shifted, body angled toward the door.

  “No way.” Carter grabbed him, pulling him back. “We’re not running toward the men with guns. That’s just stupid.”

  “But what if we get stuck here?” Eric asked. “What if—?”

  The soldiers turned toward the mass of kids descending on them. They never once let up on the triggers. Bullets sprayed fire and death. Students—both dead and alive—fell.

  There was only one explanation for the carnage: The government was doing damage control. They didn’t have a cure. They were trying to contain the zombie outbreak, to keep it from spreading.

  THE MILITARY OPENED fire on everything and anything that moved on Granite Avenue. Following Carter’s instinct to hunker down and stay put in the dorm room had saved us.

  I try to block out the memory of the slaughter. There is no other word to describe what happened.