by Amy Miles
My blood runs cold as I glance toward the door. It looks to be made of solid wood but any normal battering ram could beat that down. “Are you talking about the Flesh Bags? The ones that Nox fights?”
Her rocking intensifies at the first sound of a machine gun firing in the distance. My muscles lock down as I strain to hear.
“I need you to untie me.”
“Can’t.” She rocks faster. “Nox said not to.”
“Nox isn’t here right now, and if those monsters come for us, you are going to need me to keep you safe, right?”
Zoey’s moans rise above the sirens as they continue to whine on. An explosion rattles the glass behind the blackout curtains and the terrified girl shrinks to the floor.
“Hiding under the bed won’t help either of us. If you can’t untie me then go get the guard at the door. Tell him to send for Nox. You want to see him, right?”
She nods and crawls on her hands and knees toward the door. I want to scream at her to hurry but know that one misstep and I could send her into a full tilt panic that would get us both killed.
“That’s it. You’re doing great. Almost there.”
When Zoey reaches the door, she pulls herself to her feet and raps twice on the door but nothing happens. She glances back over her shoulder at me. “Try again but a little louder this time. He might not have heard you.”
When a second and third knock brings the same result, I begin to grow very nervous. Moments later another explosion rocks the building and I can hear screams from the courtyard below.
“Zoey, they are breaking through and I need you to trust me.”
The terrified girl turns, pressing her back against the door as she trembles. “Nox will come. He always does.”
“Always? How many times has this happened?”
Zoey rapidly shakes her head. Her fingers twitch at her side and I know without a doubt this isn’t the first time the hotel has been infiltrated. Nox said they keep this place locked up tight and there haven’t been any breaches, so that means...
“You were here from the beginning, weren’t you?”
The twitching in her fingers increases as she taps her leg with rising intensity. “It’s okay. I’m not going to let anything hurt you but I need you to focus for me. Are there any weapons in the room? A knife? A gun? Anything we can use to protect ourselves?”
My wrists flare with pain as I tug against the bindings. The rough fibers dig deep into my skin and blood seeps through, but I can’t stop to worry about a minor flesh wound when our lives are seriously compromised. The zombie monsters, or Flesh Bags, as Nox calls them, won’t let a single door stand between them once they catch our scent. They are too smart for that. Eventually they will find a way in.
“No. There’s nothing. Nox said we can’t risk it with you being hostile.”
Swearing silently to myself, I watch as Zoey drains of color when a man screams from down the hall. She stumbles away from the door and hurries straight for the bed, crawling up onto it and into my side.
“It’s okay,” I soothe as she clutches at my arm like a frightened child.
I have never really been the mothering type, probably because I had a shitty example to live with as a child, but I try to wrap my arm around her as we wait.
“I made you a promise and I intend to keep it. I won’t let anyone hurt you. Do you believe that?”
Her entire body trembles as she nods.
“Good, then I need you to think right now, okay? Is there anything else that we can use in this room to make a weapon?”
Brushing her thin hair back from her face, Zoey looks around. When her gaze falls on the chest of drawers her eyebrows rise suddenly. “Fire!”
“Good girl.” I twist in the bed, drawing my legs up so that I can face her. “How many floors up are we?”
“We are on the third. There’s a small balcony outside and some trees directly below. I told Nox you might like the view when you woke up.”
For a brief moment, I’m touched, knowing that she included herself in that consideration.
“I need you to untie me, then once I’m free, I will barricade the door while you tear down all of the curtains. Tie them together to make a rope ladder and I will lower you to one of the trees. You will be safe there while I set the room on fire to cover our escape.”
“I can’t,” she whimpers, glancing toward the window. “I don’t like heights.”
Reigning in my frustration, I reach out and take the girl’s hand in mine. I try to block out the screams and the near constant reports of gunfire as I focus only on her. “You’re a survivor, Zoey, and a hell of a strong girl even though you may not feel like it. You’ve made it this far and that’s better than probably 75% of the world. You can do this. I’ve got faith in you.”
Zoey looks at me for a moment before a small smile crosses her face. “I can see why Nox likes you.”
Without giving me a chance to react to her statement, her petite fingers works the knots free on my right hand and she crawls over me to untie the left. The instant my arms are free, I rub them gingerly then tear a strip of cloth from the sheets and wrap them around my wrists to stop the bleeding. I dug in a lot deeper than I’d thought.
“The zombies aren’t here yet, so I want you to take deep breaths and focus on the curtains,” I call as I throw my legs over the side of the bed and dash toward the chest of drawers and set each candle on the floor.
Pressing my right shoulder against the substantial weight of the solid wood piece of furniture, I grunt as the mirror on top wobbles but does not fall over. Slowly the chest of drawers begins to slide and I shove it in front of the door.
I have no sooner turned my back on it when a terrible thud reverberates through the wood. When the doorframe splinters, I look over my shoulder to see the door shift its hinges.
“Tie faster!” I slam my shoulder into the dresser and press it fully against the door then race across the room to shove everything off of the nightstand and then begin a Tetris stacking game with anything resembling weight.
“I need help!”
Wiping the sweat from my brow, I turn to find Zoey standing on her toes attempting to tear down the final curtain but it has torn at a jagged angle instead of releasing for its clips like all of the others.
Grabbing a fistful of the fabric I yank it to the floor. Zoey stands in the pile of drapes looking forlorn at the trembling door. “It’s trying to get in.”
Taking hold of her arms, I stand in front of her, forcing the young girl to focus on me instead. “The door is holding for now but it won’t for very long. I need you to start working while I reinforce the door. Can you do that?”
With her lips quivering and her knees visibly shaking, I hurry past her and survey the windows. The darkness beyond is sporadically lit with gunfire but I am only able to see small flashes among the trees on the other side of the building.
“I don’t see anything moving down there. The action seems focused on other areas of the building. I’m guessing that it’s about a ten-foot drop down to the second-floor balcony and from there you can swing over to the tree.”
Flipping the lock, I lean into the door to slide it open and it doesn’t budge. “What the hell?”
“The doors were welded shut. You aren’t the first person we’ve held in here.”
“Great.” I run my hands through my tangled curls to think. “Does this glass shatter?”
“How should I know?” Zoey says with a roll of her eyes. “No one has ever tried.”
A small squeal escapes the girl’s lips a second later when the dresser stutters a few inches after a particularly hard slam against the door.
“Focus on the knots,” I yell out and race back to the bathroom. The oversized chair in the bedroom is much too heavy for me to be able to lift and swing but it at least adds a little extra weight
to the barricade. I need something smaller that I can use as a weapon.
Glancing all around the tile bathroom, my gaze settles on a metal towel rack. “Bingo.”
With a handful of suture ripping tugs on the rack, I realize that I’m not making any headway and give up. Leaning against the counter, I suck in deep breaths, releasing the throbbing pain in my shoulder with each one. Blood trickles down my arm and I swear. “Great. Let’s add fresh blood for that thing to sniff out.”
Turning to stare at myself in the mirror, I see dark circles around my eyes and an unnatural pale hue to my skin. “You’ve survived worse than this. Suck it up and figure it out, Avery!”
Holding onto the counter for support, I lift myself up onto the toilet and slam my foot against the towel bar. The screws shift marginally in the wall. After three more kicks I grab ahold of the loosened bar and yank it free. Bits of drywall flutter to the floor around my feet.
“Hurry!” Zoey screams after a thundering crack comes from the door. I dash back into the bedroom just in time to see a pale fleshy arm reaching through the narrow gap in the door. Just beyond that, I spy the opaque whites of its eyes staring unblinkingly at me. Its growls make me shiver as it pauses to sniff the air then thrashes at the door.
“Samantha?” Zoey takes a step forward. Slowly she turns to look at me and I see how close she is to entering full-on panic mode. “It can’t be. I know her. She and I played together.”
“Not anymore.” When the Flesh Bag drags its bloody nails across the dresser I take hold of Zoey and shake her. “Toss that blanket over your head and get down. Don’t come out until I call for you. Got it?”
When she doesn’t move, I step between her and her former friend and crouch down to her level. “She’s gone, Zoey. That thing out there isn’t Samantha and you can’t think of her like that anymore. Do you understand? I need to know that you do.”
“She’s one of the zombies now, isn’t she?” When she finally tears her gaze away from the girl, I see a profound sadness in her eyes.
“She is but I’m not going to let her hurt you. I promise.”
I can feel her trembling beneath my hands but I don’t have time to coddle her further. She will either listen and hide away or stand there and watch what must be done. The choice is on her now.
Hefting the towel bar in my hand, I gauge the weight. It is heavier than it looks and I know with my waning strength I’m going to need a serious dose of adrenaline to pull this off.
As I prep for my first swing at the glass window, a sudden flashback of Cable steals away my breath. I remember standing in that abandoned farm outbuilding, speaking with him about not wanting to learn to use a gun. Though he was less than happy about discussing hand-to-hand combat, he did say one thing that might just save my life: how to properly break a pane of glass.
“You always tried to look out for me,” I whisper.
With a small, sad smile I swing, hitting dead center in the glass. There was no way that he could know that this information would someday save my skin, but I like to think that somehow he knows now.
“This is for you,” I whisper and strike the center again. The glass begins to spider web. “Almost through, Zoey! Stay down just a little bit longer.”
A sudden crack behind me sends me whirling around to see that the door has split in two and the Samantha Flesh Bag is crawling through. Her youthful size allows her ease of access as she shoves nightstands and lamps out of her way. Her teeth are nearly black with blood. Her chin drips with it, as do the fine blonde curls that grace her cheeks.
“Now, Zoey!” When I scream the command she instantly crawls over the bed and slams into me, nearly knocking me back through the glass.
“She’s coming!” she squeals and clings to my side as I reach behind me to hand her the towel bar.
“Keep swinging at the glass until it shatters and if that thing gets past me then take off its head.”
Zoey suddenly looks like a deer in headlights as Samantha shoves at the dresser. It skids across the carpet floor. Another hard shove and she will be free.
I slap Zoey across the face. “You can do this. I need to grab something from the bathroom and then I will be right back. I promise.”
The terrified girl’s fingers turn white as she clings to the bar and I turn her toward the window. “One eye on the glass and one eye on her at all times. Got it?”
She nods rapidly and I sprint toward the bathroom. Tearing open the bottom two cabinet doors under the sink, I toss around the bottles until I find the rubbing alcohol I saw Nox using.
“Help!” Zoey shrieks. “She’s through the barrier!”
Unscrewing the lid as I run, I splash the rubbing alcohol onto the Flesh Bag that has just made it over the dresser and is rising to its feet.
“Hit the window!” Grabbing a lit candle off the floor I toss it toward the Flesh Bag but it falls short. “Dammit!”
An ear-shattering crash from behind is followed by Zoey’s scream. I don’t hesitate to look back at her as the Samantha Flesh Bag rushes me. The monster hits like a pro linebacker and knocks me backward. The wind leaves my lungs when I go down and smack my head against the padded mattress.
Snarling and drooling above me, I grasp Samantha’s neck and hold it at arm’s reach as I strain to grab another candle. I cry out when it drags its nails down my side, splitting my shirt and the skin beneath.
“Son of a bitch!” I curl my free hand into a fist and slam into her chin. A sickening pop signaling the loosening of her jaw is followed by a growl of fury. The thing claws at me, striking my face, neck, and my left shoulder. The scent of blood rises in my nose as I battle to keep my nausea at bay when she slams her flailing fist into my left shoulder.
The sudden flare of pain darkens my vision as the Flesh Bag comes crashing down. My elbows give way and I instinctively roll, tossing the zombie away. With her eyes closed and half of her skull caved in, Samantha almost looks like a gruesome, broken porcelain doll.
“Is she...is she dead?” I look up to see Zoey standing over me with a bloody towel rack raised over her head, ready to swing again.
“You did it.” I cough and clutch my side. My hand comes away slick with blood and I know she gouged me pretty deep. “Now let’s make sure she doesn’t get up again.”
Crawling on all fours to where the two remaining lit candles sit, I toss it on the Flesh Bag. The scent of burning rot makes us gag and I turn away and work to tie the drapes around Zoey’s waist as the fire crackles behind us.
“I don’t like that fire,” she whispers
“Me either.”
I lead her to the window’s edge and we look down together. It is only when I lean over that I realize I may have underestimated the distance to the lower balcony a bit.
“I’m scared,” she whispers and reaches out to take hold of my hand. “Nox should be here by now. He always comes.”
With a smile, I brush her stray hair back out of her face and tuck it behind her ears. “He will be. I’m sure he’s working his way here right now. There’s no way he would ever let anything get you.”
“Like you?”
I tap the end of her nose with my finger. “Exactly. See, maybe he was right. We are more alike than we thought.”
For a moment, I wonder if Zoey is going to burst into tears, but then she suddenly wraps her arms around my waist and I’m left to awkwardly pat her on the back. “Hey, it’s okay. I’m right here with you. Besides, you just singlehandedly took out a zombie and that’s worth major bragging rights. You got this.”
The young girl presses deeper into my side and I wrap my good arm around her, hoping that I’m right. If I lose my balance and drop her or she swings and misses this could prove disastrous to both of us.
“Thank you...” she frowns and looks up at me. There is a six-inch height gap between us, making me feel every bit the el
der of this pair. “I still don’t know your name.”
“Promise not to tell?” I smile and lean down a bit to whisper in her ear. “My name is Avery.”
Despite her matted hair, dilated pupils, and ghost-white skin, Zoey looks radiant when she smiles. I can easily see why Nox is so taken with her. She’s fragile, yet kind and big hearted. Perhaps he knew that I would need a girl just like her to soften me up. “Nox will love that name.”
I laugh and wrap the drapes several times around my arm, having already tied it off to the heavy wooden table beside the window for extra support, then I plant my feet. “Are you ready?”
“No.” She looks down over the dark ledge. From below I can still hear sporadic gunfire but it has lessened. I can only hope that means that the soldiers are winning the battle. “But I really can’t stand the smell. You’re sure that she’s dead?”
“Try not to think of her as a she, Zoey. When your friend died that thing came back in her place and now it is charred and crispy.”
She casts a wary glance back at her former friend and then lies down on her belly and wiggles back over the ledge, letting the heavy rug I dragged over from the center of the room prevent her from tearing her skin on the broken glass. When I take on Zoey’s full weight as she slips over the edge and dangles below, I grit my teeth and try to focus on Cable’s face instead of the pain digging deep into my bullet wound where the stitches have torn free and blood freely seeps down my arm.
“How are you doing down there?” I call out, inching her a bit lower. The scent of burning flesh is really starting to turn my stomach but I fight through, swallowing down the bile that keeps rising in my throat.
“Lower me down another couple of feet. I can almost reach the tree limb.” Her voice echoes up to me.
“Is it strong enough to hold you?” I wish that I could see what type of tree it is but I don’t dare move closer to the edge. From what I had seen the space beyond my room was filled with lush, tropical plants, but those weren’t known for being overly forgiving of a thirteen-year-old’s weight.
“I think so. The other balcony is next to me. I’m going to push off and swing over—”
