by Justin Clay
Eli’s goodbye to Lena is simply giving her a look, and Lena frowns. I’m not sure why. Maybe she isn’t in full concordance with this plan. It is risky. Maybe, she doesn’t want Eli to go with Kage. That sounds a bit more right. In fact, I don’t think I have ever seen them separated since we met. Did they love each other? Of course they did…But intimately? They have history, that’s for sure. You can easily see it in how they look at each other occasionally. An underlying longing that’s forced to remain so. For reasons never discussed. Maybe for good reason. Maybe I don’t want to know.
The concrete building that Kage spoke of rises to a daunting twenty-something stories and looks to have once been used for some insurance company, but its outdoor sign is now too damaged and dirtied to make out the company’s name. My stomach churns sourly when we’re greeted by a rotting human carcass at the building’s busted-in front door. How lovely.
There are noticeable claw marks scratched into its double wooden doors, definitely left by whoever this was.
How sad…They didn’t even get a burial. Must have been Infected. No one ever gets those anymore. Well, hardly. You’re lucky if your body is cremated. Just out of respect. Usually, though, there isn’t time, when you’re in the middle of being chased by hordes of Infected. You’re just trying to stay alive.
Carefully, we step over the ravaged body covered in maggots and flies, holding our breath, and go into the inky depths before us. The beaten doors creak painfully as we open them for what is most likely the first time in quite a while. Mikael keeps his handgun out, aiming randomly at flicking shadows — they’re ours, cast by the dim light from the outside, but they soon are lost in darkness when Lena seals the doors shut behind us.
It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust, but it’s difficult to see anything really. I can barely notice my hand in front of my own face; it’s so dark here. Nothing but a black blob.
I hear a distinct rummaging. Lena is going through her backpack, and there’s rattling of what sounds like batteries. Abruptly, there’s the brilliance of light. Lena is holding a pair of flashlights. She hands me one.
“Here, help me, Rian,” she says solemnly. “We need to barricade the door…Just in case…Look for something we can use. Be careful though…There may be Infected lurking about.”
“On it,” I say, nodding. I tell Mikael to stick with me, and watch my back as we search the area. We’re in what I think had once been the lobby. There’s a dilapidated desk in front of us, deep stains of what looks like blood splotched throughout — and the stench here is powerful. So much so, I’m forced to pull out my pistol. We most likely are not alone...here.
Behind the desk is a cushioned chair that’s been flipped on its side, its stuffing ripped out. Beyond from the greeting desk and the deteriorating portrait of what I assumed was the manager of the place, a slightly overweight man with combed over grayish hair, there’s little else.
Around the corner, Mikael points out an elevator, but by the looks of it, it hasn’t been used in years — left in a broken state of disrepair. Adjacent to the elevator doors, however, there is a flight of greenish carpeted stairs ascending into a strange darkness. My light hovers over the first step for a moment as a chill steals up my spine. Mikael glances at me oddly, noticing, but doesn’t say anything. I don’t have a good feeling about this.
I hear Lena calling for me nearby. I don’t move…at first. Mikael already begins to turn to leave. There’s a disconcerting bump from above — not terribly loud. I don’t think Mikael is even aware it. And when I look at him, my guess is confirmed.
“Thought I heard something,” I whisper, and Mikael doesn’t say anything. Maybe, I didn’t. Maybe, I just finally am going crazy.
We find Lena standing over what looks to be like a grand piano caked in thick, neglected dust. Why in the world would they have a piano? Lena doesn’t seem as curious, only determined.
“Help me move this against the doors,” she says. “I think it has wheels to roll.”
I holster my gun and give the flashlight to Mikael to hold. Walking over the other side, she tells me to push and so I do. After an unsure, creaking start, we manage to maneuver the piano over to the double doors, resting it against them. When we’re done positioning the piano, Lena looks at me and says that we need to get to the top floor. The stairs isn’t exactly the means by which I want to get there, but we have little other choice.
The first step loudly addresses that we are here, cracking underneath our weight. My heart leaps, and by the next few steps I catch my breath. But I can still feel my heart pulse hammering into my skull. As Lena proceeds first around the steep curve of the stairs, casting a light ahead, she makes a gesture with her finger for us to remain quiet.
What’s going on?
As we continue, a distinct human’s — or at least I think it belongs to a human — gurgling, murmuring becomes clear. What the hell?
And then we see it — the wavering shadow before the gruesome figure. The Infected man, his clothes ripped and soiled over time, remains stationary, hunched over and facing the corner of the narrow passageway, as it moans painfully to itself. So much so, I almost pity him. He’s shaking and he hasn’t taken any notice to the shining flashlight or us for that matter. I see Lena has a dagger unsheathed, prepared to strike. The Infected is only a foot away, when she takes him out quietly, by shoving the blade into the hollow of his neck. There’s a sharp cry of agony from the man, as Lena stabs into his head and he collapses to the ground with a dull thud, spilling out gushes of blackish blood. It must be the Infection that causes the blood to thicken like that. Sickeningly so.
“We’re definitely not alone,” Lena warns sternly, looking down at the bleeding Infected. “So be very careful…Let’s move on.”
We finally reach the hallway to the twenty-third floor, and my legs are aching from so many steps, without running into any more Frothers thankfully. Which I find to be very strange. Looking around, I see that the hallway is relatively empty, save for a few chairs beside a vending machine glinting in the light across from us. Lena remains standing beside a closed door. She looks at us warningly, and we nod. I notice the fear in Mikael’s eyes. He’s genuinely scared. But this is where we have to go. Lena has her hand on the golden knob of the door and she turns it, opening the door quickly. Despite that, the door groans, and that’s when I become afraid. The severity in Lena’s etched features is overwhelming.
Swallowing, Mikael and I step forward, and I notice Lena has drawn her knife again, the rifle slung over her shoulders. Upon entering the room, I half-expect us to be overrun with awakened Infected, but surprisingly we’re not. Instead, we’re greeted by their countless pained moans.
12
THE TWENTY-THIRD FLOOR
I PASS MY FLASHLIGHT over the crowd of Frothers all huddled together on the twenty-third floor, each not noticing the other — or anything for that matter — caught in a bizarre trance of mumbling to themselves, staring down — basically standing, Infected vegetables. What’s going on with them? Maybe time is effecting the Infection — worsening it.
They usually do stick to darker places, and a disdain for any sort of light isn’t out of the question either. Perhaps the Infection causes this as well. It has to. But I’m not complaining. As long as they continue this not noticing us bit, we should be fine. I’ve counted: there are fifteen of them…How they all managed to get in here together is beyond me.
Then I see it: They’re all wearing business apparel, the ladies in tattered dress suits, the men in worn-down collared shirts and khakis. They were the employees here…The employees that drank the water here and never left. How sad.
If they do awaken though, we’ll be overrun. That’s for sure, and Lena is fully aware of this.
“No sudden movements,” she says intensely to us. “Be as quiet as you can killing them, and whatever you do, don’t shoot unless it’s absolutely necessary…Not only do we need to conserve our bullets, but it will wake them up…We can’t
have that happening…Unless you want to live through this.”
Mikael and I shake our heads in agreement. I take a moment to look at the boy next to me. He’s absolutely petrified, his skin noticeably paler. It looked like he was about to vomit at any given moment.
“But Lena, I don’t have a dagger,” I tell her.
“Here,” she says, pulling from her pocket what looks like a jagged piece of window glass. “This should be fine…Aim for the brain first.”
What about Mikael? Lena doesn’t give him anything, and I know why. He wouldn’t have it in him to kill any one of these people. They are still people, however, Infected. But you just can’t afford to think that way given the circumstances. Given they’d try to eat your face off. You just have to forget that part the best you can.
The first few are easy enough to take care of; I jab the sharp end of the glass into the back of their neck, up into the cranium. I give the glass, now covered in bloody gunk a face of disgust before continuing on. They’re nearly all done when I hear Mikael curse as he’s run into something.
For a second my heart stops. There’s a shifting creak of what sounds like metal, and something heavy tumbles, crashing to the floor near us. Wide-eyed, Lena swiftly spins about, shining her flashlight at Mikael, who’s standing completely terrified, trembling as a shattered computer lies at his feet.
He had run into a desk.
Oh God. Why!?
Both Lena and I exchange a horrified look as there’s a stirring in the few remaining Infected.
That’s when their mangled screaming begins.
I hear Lena shouting, but I can’t exactly understand her over the Infected being awakened from their strange slumber, screaming as if afire. I think she’s saying to head to the windows, where there’s light. So that’s what I do. I grab Mikael’s one wrist, the hand that’s holding the flashlight, and forcibly tug him with me.
Mikael shouts, paralyzed with fear; I whip back and realize a Frother is grappling her way toward him, yellowish liquid frothing from her disjointed jaw. I grab hold of my pistol and lodge its barrel into her mouth, pulling the trigger. There’s a jarring bang released with a spark of fire from the shot. Obliterated, the Infected slumps, spurting out massive amounts of blood where her head had been. There’s no time to be queasy, but that doesn’t stop Mikael.
It’s too late to move before I feel his warm, sticky vomit splash against my face as he hunkers over. He’s spluttering apologies as we rush to Lena’s side at the windows that are allowing what faint moonlight is penetrating the overspreading gray clouds beyond to flood inward. Lena is firing her trusty crossbow, her brow furrowed when she looks at us. I see her arrow’s aim is true as it catches a groping Infected in the throat — a terribly obese man in a ripped open shirt, revealing his hairy yellowed belly — and the man falls over thundering against the floor.
We’re backed up against the windows, and there’s a collective pool of blood growing, trickling out like small rivers before us, sinking into the stained carpet. Breathing heavily, I try to count how many are left. There are three running for us — no — I’ve shot one in the left eye — she collides into another, and Lena shoots, sending an arrow that pierces through both of their heads. I’m impressed. She’s pretty good with that thing. Suppose I shouldn’t expect any less though.
Now there are four — no five — no, six others heading for us, their eyes a disturbing glowing yellow by the Infection in the dark. They’re more hesitant to step into the moonlight, but it doesn’t stop them. We continue to shoot and shoot — until I believe them all to be dead, slumped over each, spilling out enough blood to turn the carpet from a dark green to a unsettling red wine color. Suddenly, both Mikael and Lena are shouting. I fling myself over, seeing Mikael is being attacked again — this time by another heavyset man. I scream, lunging forward, and fire directly at the man’s head, but instead of a bang — there’s nothing. NOTHING. My gun is empty. Shit! Shit...Shit!
I do the next best thing. I plummet myself directly into the man’s stomach head first, and the Frother stumbles, collapsing — me with it.
Gasping, I hear a crunch of bone when the fat man falls on me. It could have been mine easily as his. Crying aloud, I feel as if my lungs are on fire — I can’t breathe. I CAN’T BREATHE! OH GOD! The Infected man is directly overhead, gnashing his nasty teeth at me, hot gunk dribbling on my cheeks. I could barf. I try to bash at him with my hands but I can move. I CAN’T MOVE! All I can do is pathetically scream — but it pains me considerably to do so. The tears are burning and I can’t see or move, can scarcely breathe, when it all stops abruptly. Stunned, I open my eyes and realize an arrow had been stuck straight through the man’s head and his blood is trickling onto me.
“GET HIM OFF!” I bellow, my voice muffled.
I hear grunting from both Lena and Mikael as he is rolled off, and suddenly I can breathe again. I try to take in the air in gasping gulps, finding it very difficult to do so. Lena is saying my name as she pulls me upward. Cringing when I’m lifted, I try to stand up but nearly don’t. It’s Lena who stabilizes me. My side is aching substantially. I must have been the one who had broken something. A rib. Or two, who knows.
“Are you okay, Rian?” Lena asks me. My vision is still blurry — there’s three of her I’m looking at right now.
I hear Mikael somewhere asking the same thing when I don’t respond. I’m attempting to get myself together. Sweat has drenched my face and most of my hair, and I’m gripping onto Lena for dear life when I finally come to. I can tell I have put her in an uncomfortable position, so I relax my hold, and she seems very grateful, smiling more genuinely. I could tell even in the dark that I had left red marks on her skin from where I had been squeezing so tightly.
“I think I broke a rib,” I tell them, my face squinting up as I speak. It hurts to even talk, and I hold my side; the pain is becoming too much to bear.
I’m getting dizzy again, so Lena tells me to sit down. I don’t object. She asks if either one of us had been bitten; neither of us had. I sit against the wall beside the nearest window, watching as Lena gathers the arrows she dispensed into the Infected flesh and cleans them against her pant leg before re-sheathing them into the hold she has slung about her.
I ask Mikael how he’s holding up; he’s sitting next to me now, no longer shaking like a leaf, which I take as a good sign. He tells me he’s better than a few minutes ago, and I laugh. My side aches from the splitting pain but I don’t care. Laughter is so precious nowadays.
“It’s just…it’s starting to stink,” he says, commenting on all of the dead bodies in here, and I can’t argue there. The bodies are beginning to become pungent.
“So let’s make this quick.” Lena opens the window beside us, locking it into place. She readies the rifle from her shoulder, making sure it’s loaded properly, before squatting down, surveying the downtown area with the gun’s long-ranged scope.
Luckily, there is enough lighting emanating from various light posts to be able to spot their whereabouts. Must be a generator some-where-abouts providing the power. The ever-moving spotlight is also another dead giveaway. Lena seems to be content with the results; she whispers something and fires the sniper rifle.
BANG! — A short pause — there’s another BANG! —another short pause — and one last BANG! Before Lena looks over to us, satisfied. Not smiling, not frowning either.
“It’s done,” she says matter-of-factly. “All three of them on that wall are dead…They didn’t even notice the other was dead, until too late.”
Wow. She is a better shot than thought she would be with that thing. Lena slams the window back shut and looks at us, determined.
“We need to move from here, quickly,” she says. “It is possible someone could have located us from the sound…Rian, can you manage the walk?”
“I’ll try,” I tell her. “We can’t stay here.”
She knows I’m right, and they both help me to my feet. I hate being a burden, and with
this wound, that’s what I’m becoming. “It’s all right, we’ll get Kage to fix you up after all of this is over and we’re in the clear…”
Yeah, considering we all get to that point in one piece.
My breathing has steadied, but the pain in my side hasn’t decreased any; in fact, standing up has rekindled it. I bite my lip so hard I taste blood. Got to keep moving. Can’t stop.
I’m staring out of the window Lena shot from, taking in the downtown scenery. There it is, the man-made wall of metal scraps bound shoddily together in the shadows, along with the limp figures of the men Lena just killed. The structure is no bigger than the size of my arm in length and the men are only about the size of my pinky from this distance above. The spotlight no longer moves, which is promising enough. Lena urges me to turn away. I nod, and together we leave the Infected corpses behind.
We’ve almost reached the heart of the city when we hear the explosion. It’s distant, yes, but it’s loud enough to be heard. The very pavement quakes in the aftermath, and Mikael, who is supporting me as Lena guards ahead, has to steady me again. An eerie silence takes hold of the city for seems like hours — but it’s not. It’s just what — a couple seconds in reality? It becomes much longer in my mind.
