by Max Lockwood
He slumped down in the corner of the room, bringing his knees to his chest. The memory of the attack fresh in his mind, he clenched his fists until his fingernails dug into his palms. It was all so unfair. Why did a good woman have to die, while he survived? Knowing what he knew now, it didn’t make sense that he wasn’t turned by the zombie in the restaurant. The inflamed scratches on his face would certainly be enough to introduce the sickness. He even felt the symptoms others felt before they turned. But for some reason, he was healthy. It didn’t make any sense.
“Are you sad?” Genevieve asked in her quiet, high-pitched voice.
“I’m okay,” he said, shaking his head. He didn’t know if that was the truth, but there was no use in feeling sorry for himself. “How is your leg?” he asked, pointing at her injury.
“Bad,” she replied.
“Mind if I take a look?”
She nodded and rolled up her pant leg, exposing the bruised flesh. Violet bruises contrasted against her pale skin, exposing every broken blood vessel. He didn’t know a lot about medicine, but it looked bad. He wondered if she would be able to properly walk on it anytime soon.
He lightly touched her ankle with his fingertip, causing her to jump. She gritted her teeth and blinked her watery eyes but didn’t say anything.
“Look.” He sighed, reaching into his pocket. “I don’t have a lot of these left, and I don’t think they’re good to use when we have important things to do.”
He shook a white pill from a small orange bottle. After Matthew’s symptoms mysteriously disappeared, he was left with the medication he was given after the incident at the restaurant.
“But since we’re going to rest up for a little while, you might as well feel okay for a few hours,” he said, pressing the pill into her hand.
“Thank you,” she said softly, placing it on her tongue before taking a swig of water.
“No problem. Just don’t tell Ellie I have them,” he said quietly. “I don’t have many left.”
Genevieve smiled softly at him, resting her head back down on the couch. From his experience with the medication, she would likely sleep for a short while longer. It was probably for the best.
Even though she hadn’t said more than a hundred words to him in the time that she’d known him, Matthew liked Genevieve. She had a calming presence and seemed to know how to make him feel better when he was upset. He really hoped that her leg would heal soon—he didn’t like to see her in pain and he worried it would impede her chance of survival. It made his chest hurt to think of a time where he might have to leave her behind to save himself. He hoped that day would never come.
He sat back down at the table as Genevieve drifted off to sleep. He pushed a stack of surgical masks away, chuckling at how useless safety precautions were at the beginning of the epidemic. After Rebecca died, her story was plastered all over the news. While she didn’t survive to be turned, something that gave Matthew some solace, reports of people turning into the very beasts that killed them filled the papers. Since no one knew what was causing it, people were urged to wear masks as to not inhale any toxins and even take it as far as wearing protective clothing. People shopped at grocery stores in get-ups akin to plastic bubbles.
Come to find out, a layer of plastic or cotton did absolutely nothing to protect oneself from being slaughtered by a zombie. The only things that kept anyone safe were a good weapon, the ability to run, and keeping one’s head on a swivel. But even the most vigilant and athletic were decimated. There was no rhyme or reason to survival anymore. It made the situation all the more terrifying.
Still a little shaky from his realistic nightmare, Matthew dug through the vending machine for a little comfort. A package of honey mustard pretzels—Rebecca’s favorites—fell into his hand.
He brought the bag back to his seat and inhaled the scent from the snack. For a second, it felt like his wife was with him, sending him a message that everything was going to be okay. While his surroundings told him otherwise, it was nice of her to try.
6
What was meant to be a brief reprieve from fighting turned into a full day of rest in the small break room. Even Matthew managed to sleep later in the night. His sleep was still plagued by strange dreams, but at least they weren’t as terrifying as the memory of his wife’s death. After having the worst nightmare of one’s life, it made it easier to fall asleep, knowing that nothing as terrible as that could enter his resting mind.
After the three had enjoyed a full night of sleep, Matthew prepared “breakfast” by sifting through the snacks to find the most nutrient-dense ones to hand out. They ate their protein bars in silence, the sweet concoction leaving Matthew craving something more savory.
A coffee machine in the corner dispensed tiny cups of weak brew with the insertion of a quarter. Ellie dug around her pack of unorganized random objects until she procured the currency needed for one meager cup. Each survivor took turns inhaling the comforting smell, allowing the warmth of the paper cup to heat their hands, before taking a sip and passing it on.
“There’s got to be a way to rig this machine to work without coins,” Ellie said greedily, searching the coffeemaker for some kind of master switch. When that task proved to be more challenging than she wanted to take on, she searched the couch cushions until she had enough for another cup.
“Thank you, no,” Genevieve said drowsily as Ellie passed the fresh cup to her.
“Are you sure?” Ellie asked. “You’re looking a little loopy this morning. Did you manage to sleep too long?”
Genevieve shrugged her shoulders and rested her head back down on the couch.
“Maybe it’s better if she rests,” Matthew suggested, covering up for the painkillers he’d dispensed to her not more than an hour before. He didn’t want Ellie to ask for any to deal with her sore muscles. He needed at least one other person to be sharp.
“Is your leg any better today?” Ellie asked, approaching the other woman. She unwrapped the scarf and pressed a finger into the bruised tissue.
“It hurts,” Genevieve said, showing less of a reaction than she did the previous day. The pills were working. Her leg was still a mess, but at least she wasn’t in complete agony.
The purple bruises had yet to change colors. It didn’t look as though it was healing very quickly. Matthew wasn’t in a big hurry to go anywhere, but he knew they couldn’t stay in the building forever.
“So,” Ellie said brightly once she had her caffeine fix. “What’s the plan? Where do we want to go next?”
Matthew looked to Genevieve, who had a concerned expression on her face.
“I’ve been thinking about it,” Matthew said, “and I think that maybe we should secure more of the building and stay a little while.”
“Stay?” Ellie said. “Why?”
He shrugged. “You know that the second we step outside those doors, we’re going to have to run. Are you prepared to do that right now?”
Ellie frowned. Matthew had noticed her walking around gingerly that morning. Even his muscles were sore from their escape and subsequent battle the previous day.
“Okay,” she replied. “What do we need to do to secure the building? Can’t we just stay in here?”
Matthew looked around the room. He walked ten paces from one side of the room to the other to illustrate his point.
“Sure, for a day, maybe two. But what happens if we want to stay here a little longer? I wouldn’t mind having actual bathroom facilities—something better than a bucket in a broom closet. Besides, we will soon run out of resources here. This is a pretty big building. I think we would better our odds if we had use of the whole place.”
Ellie nodded. “Sure, I guess you’re right about that. How do we go about clearing this place?”
“One floor at a time, I suppose,” Matthew said. “We’ll stick together and eliminate any threats. Then, once one floor is cleared, we’ll go to the next. When we’re finished, we’ll see if there’s anything useful to take.”
>
Ellie smiled. Matthew knew that she would be enticed by the possibility of snooping through people’s forgotten items.
“Genevieve, you can stay here,” he continued. “Lock the door after we leave. We’ll try to hurry.”
“Okay,” she said. “I’ll sleep when you go.”
Matthew picked up his weapons and took the lead, cautiously opening the door of their hideout. When the coast was clear, he silently waved Ellie in his direction.
They took to the stairs, Matthew’s quads burning with every step. Ellie followed, several steps behind. When he got to the door, he waited for her.
“I’ve heard footsteps coming from this floor,” he said. “I’d be pretty shocked if there were any healthy people left in this place. Prepare yourself.”
It took all of ten seconds before a zombie came out of the shadows, creeping toward the pair as they brandished their weapons. Matthew led the way, taking a swing at the figure and knocking it to the ground. Ellie followed up with her knife, creating a non-fatal wound in the zombie’s cheek. This only enraged the creature, provoking it to attack again. Matthew saw another dark shadow approaching them from behind, but he didn’t trust Ellie to make the kill. He quickly stabbed the zombie through the eye before whipping around to kill the second monster.
Three more zombies came out of the woodwork as they canvassed the second floor. Ellie made contact with a few, but it was Matthew who finished them off. When they were finished securing the floor, Ellie looked pleased with herself.
“Look at all of this space we have now!” she marveled, taking strides across the floor. “Do you think there’s water around here? I’m already thirsty.”
The two walked around the offices on the floor until they found a cooler and paper cones. Matthew took a quick swig while Ellie gulped down the water before tossing her cup to the floor.
Then, it was on to the next floor where they were immediately ambushed by a zombie wearing a custodian’s uniform. After finishing it off, they were surprised by another that was hiding in a coat rack. Ellie screamed and scampered back a few feet as Matthew bashed it with a bat so violently that he cracked the skull in two, effectively destroying the thing’s diseased brain.
From there, they didn’t encounter more than a handful of creatures as they trekked to the top of the tower. Out of all the zombies they came across, Ellie only managed to kill one. Matthew was responsible for all the other kills. Except for a few surprises, the mission was rather straightforward and went exactly to plan.
“We make such a good team,” Ellie panted as they stopped for another water break. “I doubt there’s anyone else out there who can kill zombies like we do.”
Matthew pursed his lips and took a long sip of water to buy a little time before he had to respond.
“Sure do,” he said halfheartedly. He didn’t want to hurt the woman’s feelings by pointing out the fact that she hadn’t done much to help. In fact, Matthew wondered if he could have cleared the building faster without her. He frequently had to wait for her to catch up and she constantly wanted to stop and look around while she caught her breath. But she played it off as though she was in excellent physical condition and a great fighter.
Matthew didn’t fault her for her inability to fight. The only reason he could do so effectively was because he’d had lots of training and practice in such things. That, and he had the strong will to protect those around him. It also took a certain mindset to kill a living being, no matter how horrible that being is. It was like the part of his brain that would normally stop him from committing such an act was calloused. He didn’t enjoy violence by any means, but he was more disposed to make the necessary kills than many others along the way.
But he couldn’t forget the fact that Ellie had saved his life a few times. While she wasn’t the best at killing zombies, she’d managed to get the job done in the most crucial moments. Perhaps she was a decent teammate after all. Matthew couldn’t get picky—there weren’t enough healthy, sane people left in the country.
“So, how are you feeling?” she asked him as they looked through desk drawers in an empty cubicle farm. She unwrapped and popped a hard candy in her mouth from the reception desk. “That was a pretty bad night terror you had yesterday. You want to talk about it?”
He shook his head violently. “I’m fine. You know how it is.”
“Sure do,” she said. “I had a dream that I was in my lab and I was this close to creating a cure for the zombie disease. Then, the whole building collapsed on top of me. When I woke up, I thought my heart was going to explode out of my chest.”
“That sounds scary,” Mathew said weakly. “Hey, I don’t think you ever told me what kind of work you do. I know you’re a scientist, but what kind?”
“Oh, it’s not very interesting,” she said with a wave of her hand. “I mean, it’s interesting to me and to people like Genevieve, but not to normal people.”
“Come on.” Matthew smiled. “I’ve never claimed to be the smartest, but I’m not dumb. I’ll at least try to understand what you do.”
“Simply put, I’m a biologist. My expertise is in biological weapons. I guess you’re an army veteran. You might know something about that.”
“Not any specifics. I know protocol for when we’re under attack, but otherwise, we just wait for further instructions.”
“Yeah, I suppose your training wouldn’t cover more than the basics. These things aren’t used often, but when they are, they can do a lot of destruction.”
He nodded, surprised that Ellie was involved in such an important line of work. By the way she spoke, she seemed more like a high school chemistry teacher than anything else.
Looking back on his previous assessment of the woman in regard to her worth as a team member, Matthew wondered if he had been too harsh. After all, she might have some knowledge that could prove useful when it came to a horrible disease sweeping the country. If he had to be the muscle, she could be the brain. That seemed like a fair trade.
“Can I ask you something?” he said, clearing this throat. “I don’t know if you know the answer to this, but if there are scientists like you who deal with biological disasters, then why are we in the situation we’re in now? How could it get so bad when there are people trained to handle this stuff?”
“That’s a good question,” she said, looking thoughtful. “A lot of times, when we create disaster contingency plans, they revolve around a planned attack. Say, if we’re at war and we get intelligence that another nation is planning on releasing toxic gas into the New York City transit system, we can clear the area, quarantine those who were poisoned, and work on a course of treatment for those affected before others are hurt. No one could have seen this coming. By the time anyone realized what was going on, it was too late. It’s not like the flu, when it’s accidentally transmitted from person to person. This is forcibly spread by the zombies. There’s just no way to plan for something like this.”
“People do,” he said, thinking of the über-paranoid soldiers who used their paychecks to build bunkers under their basements.
“Sure, but do you know how much time and effort and money it takes to prepare for something so absurd? There’s not enough money in any public organization’s budget to hire people for zombie prevention. It just doesn’t make sense.”
“I guess you’re right,” he said. Matthew had seen the zombies in full force before many others even knew of their existence. Even he had a hard time believing what was happening.
They walked to the outer edge of the floor, toward the wide windows around the perimeter.
“I’m glad we did this,” Ellie said. “I feel a lot safer now that I know the entire building is free of danger. It just seems like a waste for just the three of us.”
“Yeah, you’re probably right,” he responded.
They looked out the window, disappointed to see how bleak things looked outside. Zombies crowded the streets as far as the eye could see, with no sign of any authority figure
s trying to put a stop to them. One of the biggest cities in the world was on the decline, and they had a front row seat to all the action. It made Matthew’s stomach sink with despair.
“Look!” Ellie said, pointing out the window to the street below. “I think that guy is running from the zombies.”
Matthew’s stomach lurched. He quickly located the person Ellie was talking about and watched as he sprinted down the street, a good twenty-five feet in front of the pack. They were gaining on him, but he seemed to be in good shape.
“Should we let him in?” Ellie asked.
“By the time we get down all of those stairs, he’ll be too far away. Let’s just hope he finds shelter on his own.”
As the two mentally cheered for the man, the unthinkable happened. He tripped over a body in the middle of the street and tumbled to the ground. Matthew quickly turned away.
“Damn,” Ellie breathed.
They stood in silence, neither of them wanting to discuss what they’d just witnessed. Matthew felt guilty for even noticing the man in the first place. How horrible it must be to know that someone watched as you were murdered. He hoped that no one was ever around to be a spectator as he struggled.
“I take back what I said earlier,” Ellie said softly. “I’m pretty sure this is the most dangerous place in the world. We’re stuck in a terrible position.”
Matthew nodded in agreement. With so many residents and tourists in the city, it would be all too easy for a single zombie to turn hundreds. Seeing as the zombies were not about to die off any time soon, it meant that they would always be lurking on every street and in every building. They were doomed.
“Well, at least we’ve created a safe space in this building,” Ellie said. “Come to think of it, stacking dead bodies at the door was probably the best precaution that we could have taken.”
“What do you mean?” Matthew asked. As far as he was concerned, there was no choice but to leave them where they fell. He didn’t remember making a conscious decision to make a barricade of bodies. It just sort of happened.
