Dead Paper Birds

by Megan McKinney

  Somewhere nearby a door slammed. I jerked my head up, watching the door, every muscle tensed in reflex. After several silent minutes passed, I let myself relax back onto the bed, my leg now throbbing in agony. My head was aching along with what seemed like every joint and muscle in my body. To be truthful I felt sick. Downright sick. I closed my eyes trying to relax. I let myself daydream that Rick wasn’t dead, and that he with Dean came back for me. I played the scenario out, Rick busting the door down then covering the it while Dean untied me.

  My daydreaming was interrupted by the door opening. A woman stepped in carrying a bag. Her nearly black hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail, dark shadows hung under her slightly bulging eyes. She dropped the bag off onto the counter and set a lantern down next to it. A small spark lit up her face while she lit the lantern, “Every time.” She hissed, pressing two fingers to her mouth. She adjusted the light till it illuminated the room. Then she turned around, without warning she ripped the blanket off of me.

  I looked down curiously at my clothes. They weren’t mine, but. I sniffed the shirt it smelled clean. It was a black thermal, down on my legs were loose grey sweats. The fabric on the left leg was cut off just above my thigh. Right below it a large white bandage seemed to glow. Thick bright socks covered my feet. How cheery.

  She gently touched my forehead with the back of her hand, after moment she withdrew it, shaking her head. With expert practice she cut the bandage off from around my thigh. She turned back to her bag on the counter. While she had her back turned, I sat up to look. My thigh was very swollen and it rounded up to this point where a neat row of stitches decorated my skin. The skin itself was red and inflamed. Dark bruising circled around it making the wound even more ominous.

  I didn’t see her come back over until she pressed a hand onto my chest and pushed me back down. She touched my leg with something cold, that burned like fire. “What are you doing?” I yelped, “warn me next time you-”

  This time she pressed a cold hand over my mouth. She leaned over me, raising her saturated cotton ball threateningly, her voice was nothing more than a husky whisper. “Give me one good reason why I should, when you’re the one responsible for all of this. You deserve all the pain that I can possibly inflict on you. My brother. My baby brother is dead because of you.” She stood back up, continuing to talk in a shaky but normal voice. “I don't know why he wants to keep you alive but just because he does, doesn't mean that the rest of us do.”

  I lifted my eyes to the tiled ceiling above us just to look at something besides her. After a few moments of silence, “I’m sorry.”

  “For what?” She snapped.

  I swallowed thickly, “I’m-I’m sorry for your loss. Genuinely I am. But I will not apologize for defending myself.”

  “I ought to kill you.” She sneered.

  The laugh escaped me before I could stop it. “Oh yeah, make violent death threats while I’m tied to a bed. Go on then, do it.” I lifted my head as far up as I could reach, to stare her down. “Besides, I only believe threats when I know that they’ll be followed through.”

  She stood there shaking. Her face was red and growing redder with each passing moment. “I hope he kills you!”

  Neither one of us broke the silence that lingered. She bent back over my leg working silently. I kept my teeth locked together as the pain radiated up through my side. I will not give her the satisfaction that she wants from this.

  As she was packing up, with her back towards me the door opened a second time. Vince sauntered through it. She looked up before rapidly finishing her packing. She grabbed her bag before storming to the door. As the woman passed him, he murmured something to her that made her pause for just a brief moment to look at him; she said something equally quiet back to him after a short moment. She then resumed her walk to the door which she shut behind her, leaving us alone.

  Vince sat down heavily in the chair near my feet. We watched each other in silence. I had just decided that I wasn't going to be the one who talks first when he spoke up, “I’m genuinely surprised that you're so quiet. No hurling of accusations or threats. I thought you’d be a little more of a spit fire.”

  I shrugged as best as I could, “What's the point? I have nothing to say other than threats and accusations as you put it and I'm not capable of following through at this moment so why bother. Besides I don’t have the energy.” I added lamely.

  He sat back looking at me strangely, “I guess you're right. Most people don't care, they'll yell and scream just to make noise. A nice change of pace. I shouldn’t have expected any different from you.” He chuckled quietly while shaking his head.

  “I do have to ask,” I sighed as his eyes lit up, “pull the blanket back over. It's freezing in here.”

  In one motion he reached over and covered me with the blanket. Briefly his hand touched my forehead before he sat back in his chair. He frowned, before touching my cheeks on both sides of my face. He stood up and walked uncertainty to the door. He turned back around beginning to pace before perching on the edge of the chair. “There's something that I need to show you.” He sat there bouncing his leg, “Otherwise you won't understand. Your father. He was no better than anyone else. He was brilliant but obsessed. Completely and utterly obsessed with finding the cure. Just finding it wasn't enough, HE had to find it. That was where the problem started. His obsession. And me, I was just a damn Guinea pig to him. Him and his damn crusade.” He huffed.

  I wanted to respond but nothing I could think of would make a difference. So instead I settled for saying nothing. He watched me for a moment before he left me alone. I settled back down as comfortable as I could get. I was still exhausted and it wasn’t like I was going anywhere. I let sleep consume me. It was easier than staying awake.

  …

  I woke suddenly to shouting. People were rushing up and down the hallway, yelling incoherently to each other. The lantern was dark, which left the bits of light that leaked through the window. It was impossible to tell how much time had passed; whether if into was night or day, everything was the exact same. Piled on top of me were multiple blankets, versus the one that I had fell asleep with. I stared at the multiple layers uncomprehendingly, my brain felt like it had been scrambled. Aimless thoughts were pushing their way through the fog, irrational fever coated thoughts. When I tried to focus on one thought it slipped away like water through my fingers.

  Intermittent gunfire mixed in with the shouting, with the occasional scream mixed in. I pulled helplessly against the ropes. They still weren't giving. Silently I begged them to let me go. I don’t want to die tied to a bed. I’d rather face death on my feet.

  The door swung open almost being ripped off its hinges. I cowered on the bed. Vince appeared above me. “Hey, hey, hey, it's just me.”

  “Please let me go. That's all, nothing else. I just want to go.” I begged.

  He shook his head, “No. You wouldn't survive for more than five minutes out there.”

  “I can. Please I'm begging you. I can, just let me go.”

  He grimaced. His hands twisted around the bed railings, his knuckles were white. “I still need to show you, you can't leave without seeing.” His voice cracked. He slid a syringe out of his pocket and looked at it thoughtfully.

  “Seriously dude! What is it with you and needles? No. No!” I put as much force in my voice as I could muster.

  Vince ignored my protests by sliding the needle into the crook of my arm. Cold fluid slid in making my arm ache. He pushed only half the contents in before recapping the needle. “You don't trust me. In fact, I'd go so far as to say that you hate my guts. But you need to know. More than anyone else. You need to know.”

  Viciously I twisted and pulled on my restraints, currently more angry than scared. “Screw you! I don't want to know! I don't want to hear anything from you. Because you're right I can't trust you, I don't trust you. For all I know you're playing some twisted game which ends in me dying in some gruesome way. Hell no. Go to he
ll.” I tried spitting at him but I overestimated how much moisture I had in my mouth. “Screw you.”

  He simply looked at his watch. I dropped back onto the bed, insults and vile comments running through my brain. At least I knew better than to say them aloud. Aloud would get me in more trouble, in my head I could repeat them without any repercussions. After a minute or two had passed I felt the drug creeping through my brain like a fog, clouding everything up. Thoughts were becoming harder to connect while my anger was seeping away, leaving me empty and scared. The drug was doing its job; making me relax. Finally, I stopped struggling, there was no point in it. I was just being stupid at this point. He waited, watching me, after which he untied the rope from around my wrists and ankles. Vince sat me up and slid me across the bed, pulling me backwards onto a wheelchair. I hissed in pain as my thigh hit the wheelchair. Coming around to stand next to me, he gently lowered my feet down from the bed to the chair.

  I had enough strength to hold my head up, but it was so very heavy. And the fact that the room was spinning slowly around me was not helping. Vince tucked a blanket around me and over my lap before pulling me backwards to the door. I frowned at his sudden compassion. Vince caught my frown but ignored it, instead he pulled the chair backwards several feet. He swung the door open the light spilling around it. I only had a moment for my night-blind eyes to try to adjust before he turned me around to push me forward into the hallway. Compared to my room it was bright enough to be daylight. I had to squint. The lights felt like spotlights shining right into my eyes. In all actuality only one in every four lights were working, which left pockets of shadows in the hall. Perfect setting for an over active imagination. He turned us to the left and pushed me quickly along, his footsteps echoing loudly in the hallway. The hall itself was devoid of all decoration. White walls with white doors, at least when there were doors. No windows looking outside, only into rooms. No decoration of any sort. The only splotches of colors were the purple and grey tiles that made patterns within the white ones. At the first hallway intersection he turned us to the right which revealed an identical hallway. These halls felt absolutely sterile. As if they were meant to be boring, to be dull with no life. Also, there was nothing to differentiate this hallway from the one that we just left and I could only assume that the rest would be the same. The hall turned a sharp corner and ended in a pair of double doors. Vince backed us through them slowly.

  Three elevators stood in a line. Dusty and grimy. Cobwebs covered the corners. Copious amounts of dust, dirt and debris covered the ground. It looked like no one had been in here for years. To my genuine surprise and slight horror, he pushed the button with the up arrow and it actually lit up. He chuckled, “Don’t look so surprised. Hydroelectricity is the answer. This building is part of a power grid that runs off a dam always up the river. Rivers not dead so free electricity for us, with some elbow grease naturally.”

  “If its free, then why don’t you have all the lights on?” I asked.

  He laughed, “This building has technical issues you could say.”

  The middle elevator slid open. He pushed me into the small square, turning us around once we were inside. Above us the fluorescent lighting flickered and buzzed. The doors grudgingly slid shut as he pushed the button with the number three on it. “This is kind of a special circumstance, they’re normally off. This is the first time they’ve been on since the world ended. I hope they work and we don’t go plummeting to our death. I mean I thought about just carrying you up but that just wasn’t going to work. Mostly I just didn’t want to carry you.”

  He pushed the button again. After a pause the elevator jerked to life. Jerking us upwards before settling into a somewhat smooth ride. Above us, below us, from all around us came the sound of screeching metal. I squeezed my eyes shut. In my head I was screaming. This was a death trap, if we don’t die from this elevator then it’ll be from all the infected that probably hear this.

  As the elevator painstakingly slowly made its way up, I could hear distinctive gunfire over the metallic screeching. Behind me Vince was muttering obscenities and something about the stairs. After several tense minutes the doors sprang open with a cheerful ding. We were still several inches shy of being level with the floor. Vince pushed while lifting the front wheels by tipping me back. It was so sudden and extreme of a tilt that I yelped. As our weight cleared the elevator it floated up becoming flush with the floor. After a moment the doors slid smoothly shut. We both stared in strange fascination as it continued climbing to the top floor, the buttons lighting up and dying one after another. There it stayed. Now, without the screeching metal it was impossible to ignore the screams that were coming from outside that were intermingled with shouts and the decreasing amount of gunfire.

  “What’s going on?” I croaked, “Your people can’t handle some infected?”

  He turned me to the left after we passed through another set of double doors. “I mean, if by ‘some’ you mean a minimum of a hundred or so, then yes. My people can. At least they will if they want to live.” His voice was stern, lacking emotion.

  I broke out in fresh goosebumps while he trotted us down the hall. Cold. That was just flat out cold, but it was true too. Just the lack of emotion though, if anything it just proves that he’s dead inside. I huddled down in the wheel chair, making myself as small as possible. If that’s what he states about the people he lives with then I don’t want to imagine what he’d say about me. Even in this state I cannot depend on him.

  Up here decoration wise, it was just as sterile up here as it was on the first floor. The difference was instead of purple and grey tiles it was light blue and grey tiles. The walls were the same white, when there were doors, they were white as well. Up here there were even fewer lights that worked, which left deeper and darker shadows for the monsters to play in. Ok, that came in from the left field. I bit my tongue to try to silence the laughter that was threatening to appear. I closed my eyes and let my head hang. There were more turns up here. The way the hall would end and turnabout on each other, it felt like a maze up here. And it was making me sick. First, he would go left then right, then right and then left. The constant turning was making my head turn around on itself.

  Back behind us, near the elevators, there was a crash followed by two bursts of gunfire then absolute silence. Vince stopped suddenly. His heavy breathing filled the silence, filling my head with his breath. Every movement he made, even the rustling of his clothes seemed amplified. After a few more moments of listening, we started forward again. While he pushed us further down the hallway, I tried moving my fingers. Reluctantly they moved, but my joints felt like they were filled with broken glass that were jostled with every movement. What is wrong with me? Is it the medication or whatever it was he gave me? Or am I sick? I feel sick, really sick. Even breathing was difficult to do.

  He turned us into yet another hallway. This one was identical to every other hall we passed through except for the wall of windows that lined the far wall. A single light illuminated the hallway, while outside it was dark. Not even the moon was shining. Just pitch black. He stopped us about two thirds of the way down in front of a door.

  “In there,” he dropped a hand onto my shoulder. I fought to keep my muscles loose, any tension would give me away that the drug was wearing off, and he would be watching for it. “Is what I need to show you. You don’t understand yet, but you will, you need to see it to understand the big picture. It’s hard, it won’t be easy to understand. But you will.” Vince flung the door open. Inside was full of shadows. I cringed back into the chair as he pushed me forward, even my toes curled under my feet as I pulled myself as far back into the chair as possible. As we cleared the door, he swung it shut trapping us in the dark.

  He moved around the room; both his footsteps and harsh breathing giving his location away. His loud breathing filled my head just like static. Just from the way he walked, it was easy to see he was in pain but listening to the wheeze that was creeping in, he sounded sic
k too. Was I sick because of him? Did he have something that could pass to me? No, my breathing was fine. In fact, it was threatening to fly out of control. No matter how calm or logical my arguments are I just can’t not be afraid of the dark. It was where my imagination always seemed to come alive. I turned my concentration towards taking one slow breath after another. I squeezed my eyes shut, this way I could pretend that I’m not sitting in a dark room with a man I tried to kill. At that thought my eyes snapped open. I swiveled my head around searching for any sign of light. For any sign that Vince might be coming at me. The dark, it felt like a physical, tangible thing. It seemed thick enough that if I reached out, I could grab a fistful of it. I twisted in my seat feeling the familiar cold tendrils of panic running down my back. At that moment, from my left, bright, golden light spilled out. It grew until it illuminated the entire room in dancing shadows.

  It looked like an art collage of birds covered every inch of the room. In all various shapes, sizes and, colors, no two were the same. The ones that covered the wall were mostly drawn out on paper or cut out from the same material. But the attention to detail was exquisite. Each one looked like it could come to life at any moment and fly away. From the eyes down to the feathers, they each were a masterpiece in their own right. The main attraction wasn’t the birds on the walls, was the birds in the center of the room.