by Max Lockwood
Using this brief distraction to her favor, Ellie bent over and grabbed Genevieve’s elbows, sliding her across the tile floor. After Genevieve was in a safer place, she unsheathed her knife and gripped the handle. She hated having to use weapons of any kind, but she understood the need. Ellie was always relieved when Matthew was able to step in and kill the zombies before she had to use her knife.
It wasn’t as if Matthew enjoyed killing any more than the next person, but he seemed better equipped to do so. The two women had spent most of their lives in the classroom or the laboratory, so they weren’t skilled at combat.
With Ellie and Genevieve out of the way, Matthew swung his bat at the zombie’s head, denting it near the temple. It stumbled to the ground, falling exactly where Genevieve previously lay. He bent down to slit its throat, a type of insurance he took with these kinds of kills, when he saw movement out of the corner of his eye.
At first glance, he thought he saw Ellie tending to Genevieve. But, upon closer inspection, he saw several more zombies lurking in the shadows. It made no difference if the three of them were in a shelter or on the streets—nowhere was safe.
“Matthew,” Ellie breathed, her eyes practically bulging from her skull. She had propped the other scientist up against the larger reception desk, tucking her into the space where the secretary’s feet sat.
“I see them,” he replied, his voice steady. “How many of them do you think there are?”
“Maybe more than there are outside the door,” she said, her voice quavering.
“And Genevieve . . .?” he asked before trailing off. He could hear tiny whimpers from under the desk.
Ellie shook her head. “I don’t think she can fight. Her ankle is pretty messed up.”
Matthew pursed his lips. “I’ll take this side and you cover the other. Good luck.”
With that, he raised the bat over his shoulder, ready to take on the group of approaching zombies.
They charged them, their teeth gnashing as they limped toward Matthew. He waited a beat, then swung as hard as he could, battering several of their heads in a row. As the first few fell to the ground, he choked up on the bat, preparing for the next row. Back and forth, he clobbered zombies, sending them to the ground. While many were only temporarily stunned or thrown off balance, a few that took a direct hit seemed dead.
Dropping his bat to the floor with a clatter, he reached for his knife, slashing anything that came within a one-foot radius of his body. A few times, he had to duck out of the way to avoid being swiped at by a blistered hand, but he managed to remain intact and unscathed.
Hearing a scream, he was alerted to the fact that Ellie was outnumbered and in trouble. Having cleared his side of the lobby, he raced over to her to help with her half.
Once again, he had a hard time distinguishing between what was real and what was a figment of his own imagination. After he returned from war, the psychologist he’d met at the VA told him that it’s common for combat veterans to have mental symptoms from the trauma they were exposed to in the field. Matthew left the short, mandatory appointment with a handful of pamphlets, basically telling him when it was time for him to get help for a whole host of potential disorders brought on by his line of work. That, and a few useless tips for how to manage symptoms while he was put on a year-long waiting list for treatment. When he returned home from the appointment, he tossed them under a stack of old mail.
While his eyes told him that he was in a high-rise in New York with two women and a bunch of half-human creatures, the back of his mind tried to convince him that he had returned to war. Matthew could have sworn he heard gunshots ring out, but it was just Ellie with a knife.
Matthew’s heart pounded, just like it did when he would get dropped off to work on a mission. Adrenaline coursed through his veins, knowing that he would have to act quickly to save his fellow soldiers.
When he reached Ellie, he tried to make a lot of noise so the zombies would become confused and easier to pick off. It seemed to work as he smacked his bat on the ground. A large portion of her herd turned around and focused their efforts on Matthew, who was quick to take them out.
Matthew could hear Ellie’s frustrated grunts as she jabbed her knife toward the attackers. Once again, her round face was beet red as she used all of her strength to keep up with the persistent zombies. Matthew’s shoulders were threatening to give out, but he tried not to think about it. Their lives were on the line.
There were a few times during his stint in the army that Matthew thought he would die. One operation that often surfaced in his memory was one that should have been simple. He and a few others were stationed in a developing country that was experiencing a civil conflict. One day, they were assigned to stand guard at a polling site during a tense election year. There was intel that the opposition may try to deter citizens from voting, but no specific plans were ever intercepted.
What should have been an easy day of standing around and doing nothing went bad quickly. After just one hour of the polls being open, an explosive device went off inside the community center they were guarding. Matthew rushed inside to save as many people as he could. But just as he was helping a wounded mother, another explosion went off, just feet from where he was standing.
The shrapnel stuffed into the homemade device cut into him, soaking his uniform in blood within seconds. Disoriented, he called for help, then staggered back outside, not knowing how badly injured he truly was. His vision was obstructed from what he thought was sweat in his eyes. He later realized it was blood.
From there, things were a little hazy for Matthew. He was later told that he went back inside and rescued a small girl who had gone with her parents as they voted, but he didn’t really remember that. He was also told that he tried to help his fellow soldier who’d tragically perished when he’d tried to jump on the bomb to prevent further casualties. He vaguely remembered flying in a helicopter back to the medics on base, where he went through hours of surgery just to repair the most extensive damage to his body. He ended up with hundreds of stitches, several pints of someone else’s generously donated blood, and an honorable discharge.
For days, he lay in a hospital bed, wishing he were home. The army medics were concerned that travel would be too hard on his body after everything it had been through and ordered a week of bed rest before they would even consider discharging him. He was ashamed to admit it to himself, but there were nights that the tears could no longer be held back as he longed to be anywhere but where he was.
The doctors were so impressed by how his body was healing that they sent him back home at the end of the week. They said it was almost as if he’d willed the tissues to respond to treatment. It’s been said that a positive attitude can have that effect on the human body. In Matthew’s case, it was the sheer desperation to escape the horror of his past.
He returned home to his wife of just three years, who did her best to nurse him back to health. More reconstructive surgeries followed, which returned his face to some semblance of what it looked like in his wedding photos. He had some serious scars, but from a distance, one could hardly tell. His wife loved him just the same.
In fact, she loved him so much that whenever army personnel tried to get him to sign on for another few years of active duty, she put an immediate stop to it. She didn’t want him to go back to warzones any more than he did. One day, he heard her screaming into a phone while he was in the shower. When he got out and questioned her about the incident, she played it off as if nothing had happened. He knew what she had done to protect him from unnecessary stress and was grateful. Matthew didn’t need Rebecca to fight his battles, but he loved that she did anyway.
The moment that he stood at the gravesite of his fallen friend and co-worker, he decided he was finished. He couldn’t help but imagine his wife holding the folded flag close to her chest. He didn’t know what he’d done to get so lucky, but she wanted to have his children one day. He was loyal to his country, but only to a certain exten
t. He had sacrificed a lot for his nation. Now, it was time for him to serve his home.
Life had been so good after his discharge. His community treated him like a hero, something that he always found embarrassing. With a lot of time (and a little extra money) on his hands, he had even decided to go back to school. Things were really looking up for the man who had recurring nightmares about losing his closest friends and family.
Once Matthew had killed off every evil being attacking him, he whipped around to find Ellie struggling to fight off two particularly strong zombies. One was inches away from biting her ear when he grabbed it by the shoulders and launched it across the room. He ran full speed at it, colliding with the zombie with such force that he saw stars. The zombie fell on top of Matthew, its face nearly touching his as it knocked the wind out of him. Luckily, Matthew had his knife at waist level, and the force from the fall impaled the zombie, killing it.
Matthew groaned as he pushed the creature off him and gingerly got back to his feet to jump back into action. Much to his relief, he saw Ellie standing over the body of the final zombie as Genevieve hopped around with her knife, carefully slitting the throats of the fallen. She winced as her foot was jostled around with every jump, but she did her part to ensure that none of the dead would surprise them. Matthew joined her as Genevieve ultimately hopped back to the desk to brace her injured body.
“Is everyone okay?” Matthew asked, looking toward the others. Genevieve nodded, though her face was as pale as a ghost. Ellie also bobbed her head as he rested her hands on her knees and bent her face toward the bloody floor.
The front entrance shuddered and squeaked as the mob outside became particularly restless that they could not join their contemporaries on the inside.
Matthew momentarily squatted to the ground to rest. His muscles burned and his lungs ached. His team was in bad shape and couldn’t suffer any more blows. As the unofficial leader of the three, he wanted to protect them. Making them return to battle so soon would be risky.
“Are there more—in building?” Genevieve asked, nervously looking around.
“Not sure,” Matthew said, shrugging his shoulders. “It’s possible.”
“Surely, this place has a back door we can escape through,” Ellie said, returning to her upright stance. “At this point, I think they’re just so fixated on breaking through the door that they might not notice that we’re gone.”
“Yes,” Genevieve said firmly. “We will run.”
Matthew looked down at her swollen ankle. She wouldn’t be able to run anywhere. He could carry her, if needed. Genevieve was small and he hadn’t managed to completely lose all the muscle tone that he had gained in the armed forces. It would slow them down, but not any more than running with her trailing behind.
He was about to suggest finding another exit when the three heard the sound of breaking glass. Afraid that the door was cracking, Matthew stood in front of the other two, ready to defend them.
“It’s the desk,” Ellie observed, pointing to the shiny desktop that fell to the ground in pieces.
This provided little relief to the others. While it was a good thing that the door wasn’t collapsing, the desk was the only thing keeping a whole hoard of zombies from ambushing them. Without it, the door wouldn’t hold for much longer. As Matthew scanned the atrium for an emergency exit, the sound of the metal grinding on tile alerted him to their dire situation. Running around, looking for an emergency exit wouldn’t be possible if they were under attack.
With seconds until the zombies poured in, Matthew sprinted toward the door and pushed against the glass, preventing any unwanted pests from entering. It helped his situation, but he was grossly outnumbered. The door rocked back and forth as the zombies struggled to wedge their mangled bodies through the door. It would be impossible to keep them out.
“Ellie, hold the door,” Matthew barked.
Hesitant at first, she eventually came jogging toward him.
“Are you sure?”
“We can’t outmuscle them. Stand here and push on the door. I can handle one at a time. Any more than that, and we’re in dangerous territory.”
She frowned when she understood what he meant.
“It should work,” he said reassuringly before she had the chance to protest. “It’s going to be fine.”
He had said those exact words many times in his relatively short life. Matthew wasn’t one to lie or mince words, but he knew that panic could hamper any chance of success. He had said it to buddies in the field who were injured in the line of duty, while they waited for help to arrive. He said it every time his wife cried as they spoke on the phone, worried about him. On a few occasions, those were his last words to a dying friend. Even when the outcome would certainly be bad, he tried to be a calming presence. He would want someone to do the same for him.
“And me?” Genevieve asked meekly.
“I—I don’t know. Just stay there for now,” he said hesitantly. He knew the young woman would be of little help to their operation with her injury, but he still wanted her to know what was going on. He would feel terrible if she were cornered by zombies, all because he’d ordered her to hide.
This was one of his greatest insecurities—making the wrong call. Yet, he felt like he had to do it. He hadn’t known his companions for long, but he still vowed to watch out for them. He couldn’t explain the feeling in any certain terms, just that he had to protect them. As far as he knew, they were okay with their arrangement. His wife had told him that he could be a little overbearing at times, but she was an especially tough cookie.
Matthew took a deep breath and clenched the knife in his right hand. He closed his eyes for a second and repeated the promise—this time, to himself. If he said it enough, perhaps it would come true.
“It’s going to be fine.”
3
“Right,” Matthew said after clearing his throat. “Stand where you are and press on the center of the door,” he said to a nervous Ellie. “If you can, try not to put your hands too close to where they’ll be coming in. I don’t want you to get caught up in this.”
“I’m not sure I have enough leverage this close to the fulcrum,” Ellie replied. “I can’t possibly keep them out.”
“Trust me, you’re stronger than you think,” Matthew replied. “Now, when I give you my command, I need you to ease up just a little on the door. They’re going to push the door open a considerable amount, so you’ll have to adjust your pressure on the glass to make sure not too many slip through. If you think you’re in immediate danger, go ahead and push it all the way shut. But if this works, we may be able to get rid of these freaks quickly and effectively.”
“Okay,” Ellie replied, her bottom lip quivering.
“Hello?” Genevieve said, her voice going up an octave.
Matthew turned his head toward the injured woman. “I need you to keep watch. Our focus will be pretty limited toward our surroundings, so I need you to let us know if we need to watch our backs. That, and if any zombies get past me, I may need you to step in and make a kill. Do you think you can handle that?”
“Yes, I can,” she replied, standing up a little straighter. Matthew could tell that she was in a lot of pain, but she was doing her best to hide it.
“Good,” he said, readjusting the grip on his knife for what felt like the hundredth time. His bat lay on the ground a few feet away, just in case. “Is everyone ready?”
“No, but I’ll never be ready. Let’s get this over with,” Ellie said, her voice straining as she pressed all of her body weight against the glass.
“Now,” Matthew said sharply, preparing for the influx of zombies into their otherwise clear building. The desk that had afforded them some time finally gave out.
When the first one slid in through the small crack, Matthew didn’t waste any time in slashing it to bits. With one clean swoop, he slashed the leader’s neck so viciously, the blade scraped against vertebrae. Blood spilled all over Matthew’s shoes, but he didn�
��t seem to feel the warm liquid pooling in his socks.
The next zombie came quickly, as Ellie didn’t have great control over the door yet. But as Matthew went through several bodies, she got the hang of adjusting the pressure on the door. They worked as a team, slaughtering each potential assassin one at a time.
Genevieve stood watch behind them, constantly scanning their surroundings for danger. Luckily, it seemed as though they’d managed to remove any threats from the inside of the building, though she stayed vigilant, just in case. She moved her knife in the air as Matthew made his kills, as if she was helping him from afar.
A few times, she thought she would have to step in and assist Matthew. Zombies were unpredictable. While some were sickly and weak, others were quite powerful and seemed to have more rage and determination to turn the healthy. At one point, Matthew lost his footing at a crucial moment and was nearly scratched by ragged claws. He displayed some quick footwork that the women had never seen before, and he was back in action, putting down the attacker before he got past the first line of defense.
The routine went on for almost an hour before Ellie could see an end in sight.
“I think there are only four or five left,” she said triumphantly. “We’re almost there. Do you need a breather?”
Matthew shook his head weakly as a tall zombie fell to the ground with a thud. His mouth was dry and he could barely lift his arms over his head, but he didn’t want to stop. The sooner they were finished, the sooner they could take a proper rest.
“How are you holding up?” he asked Ellie in return.
“I think I can make it,” she panted, shoving her body against the plate of glass.
“Let’s make this quick,” he said flatly.
In record time, they moved through the stragglers of the bunch, who turned out to be easier to take down than the ringleaders. Even Genevieve scurried forward to see the end of the fight, ready to help the other two finish off the group. The door rocked back and forth as the zombies entered the building for a kill, only to fall to the ground moments later.
