Time of Death Book 2: Asylum (A Zombie Novel)

by Shana Festa

  Nestled into the back corner was a door, currently closed. "What's this room?"

  "That used to be the man of the house's office. Now it's Mack's room," Michele answered, either not noticing or choosing to ignore the scowl Jake wore at the mention of Mack. She opened the nearby doors, using a key that dangled around her neck, to show the rooms where the food and water were located. With this many people, it made sense to keep those areas locked up tight. If shit went bad, it would be a fatal blow to find people had been getting the midnight munchies and depleting the stores.

  "The third and fourth floors are pretty much the same. There are ten more guest suites on the third floor and eight on the fourth," Mark informed us.

  I did some quick math in my head, and assumed the size of the rooms were similar to what we'd already seen. "That means three-hundred and eighty-six people can sleep here comfortably then?" I asked, wanting confirmation. Math was never my best subject.

  "I think you carried an extra one there, champ," my husband busted on me. "Two-hundred and eighty-six by my math."

  "Oh, yeah, that makes more sense," I replied, a little embarrassed at the dumb miscalculation. I looked up and to the side and gave a little whistle as if to say, nothing to see here, folks. Nope, no idiot over here.

  He leaned into Meg conspiratorially and stage whispered, "If she ever calculates a medication dose for you, ask to see the scratch paper."

  I slapped him on the arm. "Dick!"

  "I take it we'll be sleeping on the third floor?" Meg asked our guides, who still wore a smile from Jake's ribbing.

  "Actually," divulged Michele, "people are pretty spread out. It's hard to find any privacy with so many people, so we usually let newcomers pick their beds. Our only rule is that closets be claimed by couples." Her face fell, and she looked sad. "We get so few arrivals with intact families nowadays, so there's quite a few open."

  "Any suggestions?" Jake asked her.

  "Actually, yes. One of the guest rooms on the fourth floor only has one person at the moment. Perhaps you and Emma would like to share the closet and Meg can stay in one of the beds in the same room."

  I leaned over the banister and looked down at the main floor below, then peered up to the floors above. My legs were going to get a workout from climbing, but the thought of having a space to ourselves made the future muscle burn worth it.

  Ever the protector, Jake questioned the sex of the room's sole resident. "I'm not keen on putting Meg alone with a man; would the other person by chance be female?"

  "Yes," she answered. "Refresh my memory. How old are you again, Meg?"

  "Twenty-one."

  "It should work out fabulously. Jahayra is right around your age. Nineteen, I think."

  Meg perked up at the news that she would have someone her own age to hang out with for a change. Fuck, I'd never felt older than I did at that very moment.

  We were all breathing heavy by the time we made it to the fourth floor. Sweat beaded on my forehead, and I felt a drop trickle down the small of my back. I'd shifted Daphne between arms a few times and her body heat against my own perspiring skin left her hair damp and matted.

  Panting, I leaned on the railing and pointed a stern finger at Jake, waving it as I spoke. "I don't want to hear a single complaint from you. If she has to pee in the middle of the night, you're taking turns with me."

  "Fuck that," he said, the words coming out broken as he laughed.

  "You suck," I spat back at him.

  Meg giggled at our bickering. "Where on earth did you find so many mattresses?"

  Looking closer, I noticed only half of the beds were on frames. Most of the twin-sized mattresses lay flush with the floor.

  "It took quite a bit of time to get everything arranged in the most efficient way." Michele paused a moment, recalling the project. "Probably close to a month, and during that time one of the groups made trips to a nearby mattress warehouse."

  I nodded. "That was a lucky find,"

  "Not really," answered Mark. "There's pretty much everything we could ever need within a half-mile radius."

  Jake stopped looking around and turned back to Mark. "What about weapons and ammunition? How's your supply?"

  Mark shrugged, "I don't know," he answered honestly. "Most of that stuff is stored in the basement, and pretty much all the men are always armed."

  I honed in on his statement like he'd just lit a beacon. "The basement? I thought Florida homes didn't have basements?"

  "Newer homes don't, but this mansion is over a hundred years old. It's got a basement that spans the entire length of the footprint." His face paled slightly, and he pursed his lips together knowing he'd said too much.

  Once again, my husband didn't miss a beat. "Is the basement on the tour?"

  Mark shook his head, "No, the basement is off-limits. The only people permitted to enter are the council."

  I felt my brows furrow at his statement. I didn't like secrets, but I guess if Asylum was the last bastion of governmental structure, it would make sense to have an oval office of sorts.

  Michele took over the conclusion of our tour. The third floor was much quieter than the lower levels, and only a few people passed by. I had to hand it to Asylum, the people had been friendly thus far, giving us nods of hello and welcoming us with warm greetings.

  "This," said Michele, sweeping her hand around the room as we entered, "is your room. Jahayra is likely down helping get dinner finished, but I'll introduce you to her after dinner," she told Meg. "There's fresh linens on every bed and clean towels in the bathroom. Laundry is centralized, and we ask that towels and sheets be cleaned no more than once per week, and no less than every two weeks. With so many people, it's a concerted effort to maintain cleanliness so we don't end up with bedbugs and rodents."

  I felt Jake shudder next to me at the mention of bedbugs. We'd had a not-so-pleasant run in with them a few years back in our guest room. The very thought of them made his skin crawl, and even though we'd spent an absurd amount of money to rid the room of the disgusting little blood-suckers, he hadn't stepped foot in the room since.

  "Dinner should be ready soon," Mark said while looking at the time on his watch. "We eat promptly at five pm. Breakfast is at eight am and lunch at noon. The grandfather clock serves as our dinner bell. Get settled in, and we'll see you downstairs when the clock strikes four."

  The couple left us alone in the room, standing in the center of the space holding our worldly belongings and the dog. Apart from the various colored comforters covering the beds, the room felt old. It smelled old, too. Kind of the musty smell of an attic filled with antiques, which, I guess, this was pretty close in comparison. I opened the closet door and aired out the space before dropping Daphne onto the bed and falling down beside her, staring up at the brass chandelier.

  "This is ridiculous," I laughed.

  "What is?" Jake asked me, leaning against the door frame.

  "There's a chandelier in the closet." He looked up and his face contorted into a baffled grin. "Rich people," he said, as if that answered everything.

  "At least we've got a gorgeous ocean view," said Meg, taking her eyes off the window long enough to look back at us.

  "What's your take on this place?" I propped myself up on my elbows and looked at Jake.

  "The jury's still out," he decided. The scowl had returned to his face upon responding.

  "You're thinking about Mack, aren't you?"

  "Politically, I hate that man. He sent a lot of good soldiers to their death. But I have to hand it to him, he's got quite the operation going here. From what I can tell, besides the houseboat anchored in the middle of the ocean, this is the safest place we've been in months."

  "True," I agreed. "Though, my feathers are pretty ruffled at the sexism, not to mention discrimination, going on downstairs."

  "Seriously!" said Meg, who appeared in the doorway a moment later. "Nineteen-fifty called. They want their idiotic values back."

  I smiled at the quip and
laid my head back on the bed, sighing with contentment at the comfortable moment of quiet relaxation. Daphne, however, sidled right up to my face and stared at me.

  "What?" I asked her, earning a whine. "Go lay down." Her ears perked and she lowered her head in a crouch that made her ass stick up in the air.

  She let out a sneeze, not a real one, but one of those attention seeking sneezes, and misted my face with snot. "Pfft, blech," I blurted, and wiped my face with the bottom of my shirt. Before I could attack her with kisses, I heard the chime of the big clock. "Saved by the bell," I told her.

  Chapter 18: Hail to the Chief

  The first thing I realized was that the trip down was much easier than it had been going up. The second thing was that I would need to keep laser beam focus on Daphne inside the mansion's vast space. With the stress placed on keeping our new home clean, I didn't think residents would take kindly to her leaving secreted piles of crap for them to find. I was, of course, under no illusion that she wouldn't make all attempts to dispense her own cruel injustice whenever possible.

  Following the herd of people heading down provided me the opportunity to take in the others; what they wore, how they acted, and how they grouped into cliques.

  Meg leaned over and whispered in my ear. "Feels like high school all over again."

  I chuckled at her spot-on reference.

  "Mmm," moaned Jake, popping his head into the narrow space between me and Meg. "That actually smells really good."

  "No cuttsies, bubba!" joked Meg, poking him in the belly.

  We took our place at the end of a buffet table and each grabbed a plate. I had to perform advanced formulaic algebra to figure out how I was going to make the process work. Looking down at my two available arms, one had a dog tucked under it and the other held my plate. Daphne licked her lips in anticipation of her trip through the buffet line, and I transferred her to my outside arm. She let out a humph at the new position, obviously dismayed by the extra distance, and craned her neck as if she could Inspector Gadget her efforts to reach the tasty morsels.

  I was careful not to take any more than was appropriate, even though I would be sharing with Daphne. We made it to the end of the line and Jake grabbed us both a bottle of water. Steam rose off my plate and filtered its way into my olfactory senses, making me salivate for what was about to be the best meal I'd eaten in months.

  "Where do we fit in?" asked Meg. "Jocks, nerds, drama club, randoms?"

  "Wow, that's pretty much a spot on observation," laughed Jake. In the end of the world cafeteria, a group of men sat at the table closest to the door. Weapons were slung over their shoulder even as they ate, and while they didn't go as far as to dress like military, they all had similar fashion styles. Khaki cargo pants and black tee shirts. The fact that they'd all decided that V-neck was the way to go made me smile, conjuring images of a New Jersey, no-necked, Guido. A credit to them, of course, was that most had the bodies to pull off the look; no doubt months of manual labor and combat with undead. This group, again it didn't go unnoticed that it was only men, were definitely the jocks.

  Next to the jocks table was the drama gang. Comprised mostly of women, and like a needle in a haystack, head chef, Zack, sat smack-dab in the middle of the ladies, content with being the center of attention. He erupted into laughter at a joke I couldn't hear, and I knew we'd get along just from the way he committed to the act. Zack's entire body shook, throwing everything he had into the laugh, and he snorted, which made me giggle in response.

  Another howl of laughter pulled my attention from the chef, and I scanned the room until I noticed Jasper sitting at another table. He was facing Zack and far enough away that it would be difficult to have heard whatever led to Zack's boisterous outburst. But he was laughing nonetheless, affected by the joyous sound just like my own reaction, and clapping. Unlike the other tables, the randoms table where Jasper sat didn't appear to be interacting with each other. While the other cliques packed in close to one another, leaving barely enough room to get up from their seats without causing a chain reaction of others having to move their chairs, the randoms left more space between seats, distancing themselves from everyone else.

  Jasper saw me watching him and waved at us. "Emma!" he shouted across the room, causing all the heads to swivel in our direction and my face to turn beet red with embarrassment at being noticed. The happy-go-lucky man-child patted an empty chair next to him and cupped his hands over his mouth to yell, "Come sit with me!" It was so loud that I could swear on a stack of Bibles that his voice echoed in the room.

  I threw caution to the wind and returned his shout, "okay!"

  I finished my room sweep while Meg spooned corn onto her plate. At the table closest to the basement sat the nerd herd. There was no mistaking the group for what they were. Here be the band geeks, I thought, mentally patting myself on the back for the inner quip. In the worst time in the history of man, this uptight collection of men and women still dressed as if they were at work in a lab or board meeting.

  My quick estimate put the group somewhere around a dozen. Many of them wore lab coats with button-up dress shirts underneath. One woman even wore a blazer and skirt with a frilly silk blouse. How the hell she thought ironing in the face of a zombie apocalypse was a good use of time was beyond my comprehension, and my eyebrow rose involuntarily.

  Amongst the geek squad, one man stood out. Wearing an expensive business suit that fit so well it had to have been tailored for him, this man with salt-and-pepper hair sat with his back rigidly straight and his chin raised. He surveyed the room, looking every bit the snot-nosed politician I knew him to be, and set his sights on me and my companions. Jeb MacKenzie, the man they called Mack, nodded curtly at me and quickly returned his attention to his group, making me feel like a peon.

  "There's our fearless leader now," Jake whispered. I did a quick sweep of our immediate area to ensure no one was within whisper radius.

  "Shh," I demanded. "I don't think it's a good idea to buck the system before we've even settled in. Have an open mind. People have been forced to adjust. Maybe he's changed for the better." My words felt hollow even as I spoke them; not even I believed the arrogant aristocratic zebra had changed his stripes. Any lingering doubts I had on the subject were squashed when I heard Zack's riotous laughter again.

  * * *

  Instead of walking straight through the narrow space left between tables to get to Jasper's table, I led Jake and Meg around them, leaving a wide berth between me and the seated diners. I felt eyes on my back as I passed, and I began to sweat from the social anxiety. Jake was no doubt rolling his eyes at me, knowing full well that I didn't relish being on display.

  I likened this experience to that of a movie theatre. There was something about walking into a room already filled with people that gave me stage fright. So whenever Jake and I went to the movies, I made him go first and stuck close behind him as if I could avoid people looking at me by putting him on the front lines to find us a good seat. A choice, which of course, I bitched and moaned about every time. Sometimes I felt bad for the guy, because I was damn-near impossible to please. Nursing school was no different, and my way around the issue was to always make sure I arrived first. In two years, I had been late only once. Other than that I went so far as to pull up a seat in the empty classroom thirty minutes before class was even scheduled to begin.

  "Hi, Emma!" Jasper stood as we neared and rushed to give me a hug. I returned his embrace; I was in instant adoration with Jasper. His boyish personality coupled with the joyous innocence in his facial expressions and the fact that he hadn't become jaded like so many others—myself included—was refreshing. I genuinely wanted to be around him, and I felt an instant protection tether form between us. Without question, I knew I would tear a new asshole into anyone who dared to mess with this man.

  I returned his hug and exuberant greeting. "Hi, Jasper!" He gave me a lopsided grin, happy at the reciprocated attention, and moved on to the others to greet them the sam
e way.

  "Hi, Jake!"

  "Hey, Jasper!" Jake squeaked out a greeting while his lungs were constricted by the strength of the hug.

  "Hi, Meg!"

  "Hi, Jasper!"

  He rounded back to me, leaning in with the same grin. "Hi, puppy!" He tickled Daphne under the chin and dissolved into childish giggles when she licked the tip of his nose.

  "Quite the ball of energy, that one." Jake side barred while Jasper made a show of picking out the best seats for us. Best, of course, meaning the closest to him.

  "I love it!" Meg exclaimed, and for the first time since Vinny died, I heard the smile in her voice.

  We sat and began to eat while Jasper rattled on about the mansion, asking if we saw this room or that room, and told us tidbits of information about our new home. It turned out, not really to our surprise, that he'd been part of the ground crew of Asylum. His one and only job since he was a teenager.

  My gaze wandered to those seated at the table with us. Unlike the other groups, there was no matching fashion, and really nothing that would draw these people together other than not fitting into another clique. Most of them focused on their plates while they ate, not taking notice of us or anything else going on around them. A few talked softly in small huddles no bigger than three people, and still others stared blankly ahead and ate their meal like the act was an automatic response. Some noticed only Daphne and smiled at her for only an instant before their faces fell to nothingness again.

  I wanted to grill Jasper about Striker, but it wasn't the right time. Daphne sat expectantly on my lap; all her attention was focused on the plate of food. One for me, one for her, I alternated bites of food between us. The air shifted behind me and creepy crawlies ran up my spine. It wasn't that there was a movement of air, but more like a darkness that crept in and began suffocating the happiness I'd allowed myself to feel.

  Jake's hand stopped in mid-air and pasta jiggled on the end of his fork. His face morphed into a scowl and I fought the urge to say, there's someone behind me isn't there?