The Killing Floor

by Craig DiLouie

  The face of the office building is shattered, a ghastly black maw choked with debris. Rubble and standard office junk litter the parking lot in front of it, carpeted in a thick layer of dust. Todd sifts through it looking for signs of her. He finds a warped length of pipe. Crushed ventilation duct. Smashed pieces of office cubicles. Staplers and pens. Upright office chair. Hastily scrawled notes on Post-Its. Photos of loved ones. Of the Demon itself, he sees no sign. Presumably it returned inside the building and, from there, who knows?

  Todd kicks at the dust, unveiling a Springfield pistol. He picks it up, checks the magazine, and tucks it into his belt. A little further on, he finds a shred of clothing. Past that, a piece of bone. Anne pursued death, he knows. In her mind, she died the day she discovered her dead children at her neighbor’s house, murdered and half eaten by an infected man named Hugo. She woke up every day with the knowledge she was already dead. By conquering her fear of death, she conquered fear itself, and that made her a good survivor—that and the fact she was far better at dealing death than she was at pursuing it. But in the Demon, she met her match.

  Was this really what you wanted, Anne? He has a feeling she would have called it a good death. He knows he will miss her. She was the best person you could have watching your back, a real monster slayer. But her hate consumed her until there was nothing else. People like that become another kind of monster.

  Goodbye, Anne.

  He thinks about the people he has known since the epidemic began. Most of them are dead and gone forever. Anne. Paul and Ethan. Ducky. Cruz and Noel, Marcus and Evan and Ramona and Gary. Ray Young.

  Erin.

  They did not die for nothing, he believes. They died for something. All of them died to ensure Ray Young would end up here, today, and give his body and blood for a chance to save the world. They all played their part.

  That makes them all heroes, in a way. A sappy thought, but accurate.

  The Bradley starts its engine and sits idling in the dead town. The Stryker is already rolling across the parking lot, executing a U-turn until it points east.

  East, and then north. To Fort Detrick.

  We’re going to do this, Todd understands. Perhaps there we can end this nightmare.

  Goodbye, heroes.

  There is still a chance we can win this war, and we will fight for that chance. We will never give up. We will win, or we will all go down together.