by S G D Singh
Hanna nodded, her features paralyzed in place. “Yeah, sure,” she managed. “Okay.”
“Good.” Chastity gave her one quick hug, kissing the air by her cheek, then frowned as she ran a thumb under one of Hanna's eyes, grimacing at the smeared mess on her skin as she left the room.
The moment the door closed, Hanna rushed to the closet, removing her destroyed dress and tossing it to the floor as she reached for jeans, a T-shirt, and sweatshirt. Hurrying to the bathroom, she put on socks, then scrubbed at her face for thirty seconds without looking in the mirror. Dropping her towel, she jogged across the suite to dig her tennis shoes out of the gym bag just inside the suite's door.
Back at the closet, Hanna reached for her Remington 700 bolt-action rifle, putting the memories of hunting with her father out of her mind. Katelyn's laughter only three days before as her cousin intentionally missed the targets in The Resort's shooting range, encouraging Todd to help her again and again.
Securing the weapon across her back, Hanna stuffed two boxes of 7mm Magnum rounds into her sweatshirt pockets, refusing to think about the implications of this. Of course she wouldn't need to actually use the rifle. But as Father loved to repeat, ‘Only a feeble mind would accept defenselessness.’ Or something. Someone had murdered eighty people, and Hanna wasn't interested in meeting them unarmed. And it was always a good policy to have more ammo than needed, rather than not enough.
Hanna slipped her wallet, phone, pocket knife, and keycard into her jeans and left the room.
The underground hotel felt like a coffin as Hanna moved soundlessly down the red and gold carpeted hallway. She felt as if she'd been buried alive, thousands of tons of earth weighing down on her, The Resort's polished stone walls pressing bleeding-eyed bodies against her as oxygen slowly ran out.
Dead. So many dead. And what is death, after all? What is life—our actions dictated to us from the beginning, our bodies fading away with each day? Nothing but waiting for inevitable death. Why do any of us even exist in the first place?
Silence. That was the problem. This new and complete silence was driving her insane.
Well, more insane than before.
Hanna pictured Aunt Chastity and Katelyn—waiting for her by now—and, avoiding the service elevator that would take her past Aunt Chastity's suite, she quickened her pace to the guest elevators, hitting the button down over and over as the maze of hallways seemed to tilt, swimming in her vision.
Finally, with a soft chime, one of the elevators opened, and Hanna rushed forward into it. She selected The Resort's main lobby on the seventh level, where she hoped to find at least one service elevator unattended.
Please, let Adam be in the same room he was in yesterday.
In the eerily-deserted lobby, Hanna passed through one of the sitting areas, antique furniture divided by giant flower arrangements and sculpted lighting. The elevators behind her chimed once again and, glancing over her shoulder as the brass doors slid open to make sure it wasn't Chastity and Katelyn, Hanna froze.
Instead of her aunt and cousin, a tangle of jerking limbs struggled to free a crowd of bleeding-eyed, formally dressed guests.
What the fuck?
Hanna stared, hardly comprehending what she saw, even as people she recognized from the banquet began to stagger forward slowly, as if on broken feet. It took her a second to realize they were all coming straight for her, moving as if in slow motion. One elderly woman Hanna remembered fussing over her tiny dogs when she'd first arrived, fell without a sound and was trampled within seconds beneath the crowd that didn't seem to notice. Hanna watched in horrified disbelief as the woman's hand, crushed beneath a man's shoe, was pulled free from her wrist with a sickening crunch. She still didn't make a sound, though—she didn't react at all. She simply continued to struggle to stand.
Time fell back into place with jarring clarity, and Hanna found the use of her legs. She backed away from the crowd and reached for her rifle, loading it with practiced speed, certain that if these people reached her, it would be bad.
Very, very bad.
The first shot rang out like thunder within the stone room, hitting the closest man in the forehead. He went down, disappearing beneath the others, who seemed unfazed by the threat of Hanna's bullets.
Oh. Shit.
She spun and ran for the service elevators behind the reception desk, shoving another round into the rifle's chamber as she went, wishing she held her 9mm with its 19 round magazine she'd left at home.
She hit the button five times, her entire body trembling, aware that she was dangerously close to hyperventilation as panic settled in time with the sound of shuffling feet growing steadily closer.
C'mon c'mon c'mon!
There was nowhere to go from where she stood except back around the reception desk to the lobby. Hanna wondered if she could make it past the crowd, down the stairs, and into one of the restaurants or the kitchens beyond. She emptied the boxes of ammunition into her pockets so she could load faster. Behind her, the lobby elevator doors chimed again, but Hanna didn't turn to look. She couldn't bear to see yet another crowd of…
Zombies, Hanna. Face it. You're about to be eaten by fucking zombies in an underground neo-Nazi fucking Klan hotel.
The service elevators finally opened, and Hanna started forward only to freeze and stumble back as two more bloody-eyed creatures staggered from its depths, reaching for her with jerking limbs. She raised her rifle and fired, but in her panic the first bullet went wide. Taking another two steps back—bad idea, closer to the things behind her—she fired again, and caught the taller of the two men in the forehead, plastering brains against the wall as he dropped to the floor like a marionette with its strings cut. His colleague ignored him, making a kind of gasping-clicking noise as he continued toward her.
She pulled her rifle's bolt back and fired another round as she ducked around the outstretched arms and tried the elevator. Maybe the doors would close before the others reached her, she thought, reloading three more rounds with trembling hands. But Hanna knew she'd run out of time.
You've failed, and now your time is up. Game over. You better hope and pray these things don't find Adam even more defenseless than you are.
Hanna screamed then, releasing the rage of the past eleven years as the last sound she would ever make. She screamed and screamed until her throat was raw, and she loaded and emptied her rifle into bloody, sightless faces of zombies that closed in on her. She felt their clammy, decomposing hands reach her, pulling at her clothes, gnashing their teeth as they crawled over the fallen.
The elevator doors slid open and Nadifa took in the five-star hotel lobby—all chandeliers, intricate marble design, plush rugs, giant flower arrangements, and fake windows with fake views—and screams of rage coming from behind the reception desk area.
Luk was already sprinting across the room toward the noise, and Nadifa saw him disappear behind the partition backing the reception desk. The sound of gunshots rang out a moment later.
“Lukango!” Kevin bellowed, running after him, and the others followed. Malik circled the desk from the other side, and Nadifa and Jamal followed him. They found what looked like a hidden service hallway, currently filled with four bloody-eyed banqueters staggering right toward Malik's butcher knife.
Two heads hit the floor before Nadifa could blink, but a skinny woman in a printed evening gown and a kid who looked no more than twelve skirted past Jamal and came straight for him, reaching for Nadifa with arms that jerked erratically.
Nadifa froze as time slowed, his attention narrowed to the woman's bloody fingertips and ripped-off nails. He noticed her enormous diamond bracelet, such a beautiful thing surrounded by such ugliness.
The screaming had stopped—all sounds had stopped—he didn't know when. Then he blinked, and Nadifa became vaguely aware that Jamal and Malik were shouting at him, but his ears wouldn't work right. He could only blink in confusion at the now headless woman and child on the ground as someone grabbed his arm
and pulled him back into the lobby.
He looked around at the faces looking at him. Luk. Mike. Jamal. Kevin. “Are we dead?”
“Not yet,” Luk said, slapping him on the back, jarring him into reality. The girl with the hacked-off hair—Hanna, he remembered—stood off to the side, holding a rifle and wearing a hoodie in place of the shredded gown. Her face was mostly clean, but her pale eyes were wide with terror, bouncing around the lobby, spooked by every sound.
“Thank you,” she said to Luk, stepping toward him with her hand outstretched.
He didn't even look at her. “Save your white approval,” he snapped. “I do nothing for your fucking thanks.” Nadifa noticed Hanna flinch, paling further. After an awkward moment, she dropped her hand and stepped back, nodding at the floor.
“We might not have to kill them, right?” Mike said. He looked sick as he studied the blood-covered knife he held. “I mean… they're still people.”
“Yes, we do,” said Jamal. Shoving Mike aside, he lifted his pant leg up to reveal his injured leg, meeting everyone but Hanna's astonished gazes one at a time. Nadifa inhaled, his chest feeling as if he'd been kicked in it. The bite already looked bad—infected, the skin around the wounds swollen.
“The zombies ignored me, man,” Jamal said. “You all saw it. Like I wasn't even fucking there. You all know what that means. I'm infected. It's just a matter of time before I turn and start trying to eat all y'all's brains and sh—”
“I can disinfect that,” Hanna stepped forward, speaking directly to Nadifa. “The suites all have First Aid kits and antibiotics. Plus, we should probably get out of the lobby.”
Luk rolled his eyes. “This might come as a surprise to you, Imperial Wizard Spawn, but you are not in charge,” he said. “All we need from you is directions out of this fucking place. We'll find our own doctor from there, thanks.”
“I…” Nadifa thought Hanna might cry, but she pulled herself together, keeping her eyes on his. “They won't let you on the helicopters. And that's the only way I know in and out of here. I'm sorr—.”
“Please.” Luk held up a hand. “Save your sympathy for the poor darkies for someone who believes it.”
“Fuck,” Mike said, tearing his gaze from Jamal's leg and glaring up at a chandelier. “Let's just go back to the tracks. Wait for the gate to open.”
“Man, that is the worst plan yet,” Darnell said, his voice cracking with hysteria. “You wanna be cornered in a dark tunnel with those things for another, what? Five hours?”
“Adam might be able to help,” Hanna said, stepping forward again. She ignored Luk. “Adam is my brother. He's been held here against his will, tortured by the doctor who probably caused this—this whatever it is. Adam knows things about this place. He's been trying to find a way out, and he's getting closer. I was looking for him when…” She waved back at the elevators awkwardly.
Luk was shaking his head, but Nadifa spoke before he could. “Okay, let's go find this Adam.”
“We need to get his leg fixed first,” Hanna said, pointing at Jamal. “And I'm out of ammunition.”
“Lead the way,” Nadifa said, looking around at the group, ending on Luk. He shrugged. “It's as good a plan as any.”
They followed Hanna into the elevator and waited in awkward silence until the doors opened on a wide hallway. Hanna led them to the left, where she opened a door to the fanciest suite Nadifa had ever seen, even in movies. It had a sunken hot tub the size of his bedroom back home in one corner, backed by a giant screen depicting some vast countryside. Kevin took the First Aid kit from Hanna and began helping Jamal with his wound while Darnell went back to trying to open the phones he'd collected. Luk paced the room looking disgusted and stopping at the door every few seconds to glance down the hallway.
“Hanna?” Nadifa asked, watching her fill every pocket with bullets and toss boxes to the floor. “Can we use your cellphone?”
“It stopped working when shit got weird. Look,” she said, showing him a screen that simply read: ERROR NO SERVICE.
Despair washed over him, and Nadifa realized he'd been hoping in spite of everything that they'd be able to call someone for help.
Hanna turned back to filling her pockets with bullets. “I'm guessing whoever planned this whole… thing must've destroyed whatever made our phones work down here. I noticed mine had stopped working right about the time I left my room—which was probably right about when people started, uh, coming back to life.” She glanced at Nadifa and must've seen the disappointment on his face because she added, “Maybe it'll work once we get outside.”
“Yeah, maybe,” he said.
Jamal leaned against one of the sofa's velvet cushions, his calf bandaged, his expression a little seasick. He swallowed the two pills Hanna handed him and gave Nadifa a thumbs up. “Here's hoping I won't turn into a zombie after all, eh?”
“You definitely won't,” Luk told him. “Because there's no such thing as fucking zombies.”
After consuming all the water and snacks in her fridge—a painfully short supply—they followed Hanna back out into the hallway, knives and rifle held ready as they waited for the elevator. They were prepared to face more of the infected, but when the doors opened, only a blonde girl about their age stood inside, hunched over and shaking.
“Katelyn?” Hanna said, lowering her rifle. “What are you doing? Where's Aunt Chastity?”
Katelyn burst into tears, throwing her arms around Hanna's shoulders, then sniffing and arranging her hair a moment later. Nadifa thought it was a little odd that the girl didn't seem to notice the rest of them at all.
“I don't know where she is!” Katelyn wailed. “She said to meet her at her room, and I waited and waited for her, for like, ever. Finally I tried to get up to Transport, thinking maybe she was waiting for me there, you know? But there were sick people everywhere!”
“Ain't that the truth,” Kevin mumbled.
Katelyn didn't acknowledge him. “I didn't know what to do, so I just came back here!” Katelyn whined. “They try to bite, Hanna. Bite. You have to help me get out of here and call the CDC or whoever. They'll know what to do about this, right? Someone has to know what to do!”
“I'm not leaving without Adam,” Hanna said, her voice even. Nadifa noticed her eyes narrow. She was watching the other girl closely.
“Adam?” Katelyn asked.
“My brother,” Hanna said. “Adam. I'm not leaving without him.”
Katelyn burst into tears again, wailing as she wrapped her arms around Hanna with renewed enthusiasm. Hanna left her arms at her sides, not returning the embrace.
“I know where he is,” Katelyn whimpered, her eyes pleading.
Hanna extricated herself from the girl's embrace, her gaze intense. “You do?”
“Yeah. And look, I'm sorry. I should've told you he was here and, and stuff, but Mother said not to, and I… ” Katelyn began crying again, and Hanna looked as if she might use her rifle on the girl.
“Where is he, Katelyn? Take me to him. Now.”
“Okay.” Katelyn made a show of pulling herself together, sniffing and nodding dramatically. “Okay, he lives in the hospital wing, near Dr. Kaiser's lab. C'mon, I'll show you.”
Hanna paled. “So it's true. Dr. Kaiser makes him live in some kind of fucking torture lab?”
Katelyn wouldn't meet her eyes. “Look, I don't know, okay? I was only down there once to deliver some documents for your dad. I didn't see any torture going on, all right? Jesus!”
They all crowded into the elevator, but Katelyn continued to pretend only Hanna existed. Mike and Kevin openly stared at her, and Malik held his ridiculous butcher knife up to the light, turning the blade back and forth so the reflection shone in her face, but other than one stumbled step backward into the wall, she ignored their efforts.
The Resort's main lobby was hardly recognizable now. Every luxurious lamp, painting, and vase had been smashed to the floor, leaving a shower of broken glass and crushed flowers strewn across t
he bodies of fallen infected. Splatters of blood covered everything, and bullet holes decorated the granite walls. Nadifa tried not to look at the destroyed infected as he passed through the room.
Katelyn led them to the service elevator behind the reception desk and pushed the tenth-floor button, taking them deeper into the earth. Nadifa didn't know what to expect when the doors opened—maybe a five-star hospital—but what he saw looked more like some secret government facility, all stainless-steel doors and biohazard signs beneath creepy red lighting. There were no signs of infected people or a struggle. In fact, the place seemed deserted.
“He's right through here,” Katelyn said, sniffing and leading Hanna to the first door on the hallway's right. She hesitated as she entered a code on a keypad, like she struggled to remember the numbers, and never stopped crying and apologizing.
The door had a window in it, but Nadifa couldn't see beyond the dark glass. Eventually, the red light above the doorknob turned green, and the door clicked open.
Katelyn held it for them, and everyone filed in. Nadifa was last, and as he passed by her, he felt the hair on his neck stand up.
She was smiling.
And pushing the door closed.
“What the—” Nadifa spun, shoving his foot at the doorway, but it was too late. The heavy steel latched closed, locking them inside.
Katelyn's voice reached them through the glass. “You disgust me, Hanna,” she said, and there was no hint of sadness and fear in it now. “Look at you. I mean. Gross. Your hair? Seriously? And after everything your father taught us, this is the company you keep?” She finally looked at the seven boys then, and Nadifa thought he'd never seen a more hate-filled expression on a human face.
