Lockdown: A collection of ten terror-filled zombie stories

by mike Evans

  The woman lay on her back, staring up at the ceiling with dead eyes that were bloodshot and tired looking, bruises around them like she hadn’t slept in ages. She pushed out a nauseated breath through pursed lips and kneeled down beside Max again as he was examining the corpse in front of them. His eyes were bright and focused, a far cry from what she had seen in his session or what his wife and former doctors had described.

  “Mr. Durant, you don’t have to do this. Let me,” she said as she placed her hand on his, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

  He shook his head. “No, I want to help. It’ll give me something to do while we’re all stuck here I guess.”

  “Alright, well, what have you noticed about this woman so far? Anything that can tell us what happened to her besides the obvious?” Not that there was anything obvious to be seen here. “She looks as if she had the flu. See the redness around her nose there?” She pointed at the red patches around the woman’s nostrils and continued. “That can also explain the redness of her eyes.”

  “So, did the flu make her do this?” Max asked as he turned to look at his doctor.

  “I don’t think so.”

  Her other patients surrounded her and watched in silence, the only sound in the room beside her voice the ticking of the clock on the wall behind Amanda’s desk. Christina had seen how the woman had ripped into Jason and decided to examine her body for any bite marks, turning her arms over and lifting her legs to check. A bright yellow dress covered her body, which made the examination even easier to perform, but Christina found nothing, letting out a sigh of irritation as she leaned away from the corpse.

  “Well, maybe it did. She had bitten Jason, so I assumed that she had been as well, but there are no teeth marks anywhere on her.”

  “What does that mean? “Carlisle asked as he fidgeted in his seat.

  “I don’t know, but maybe if one of us goes out there, we can get some answers. Maybe down to the first floor. I’m sure that’s where she came from to begin with.”

  “What if there are more,” Donna asked, pausing long enough to lick her lips, “like her out there?” This was a nervous habit Christina had observed in her, which wasn’t a sign of her mental instability, but did cause worry.

  Christina looked at Max, the question in her eyes now. Were they safe in the office regardless? She wasn’t sure, but she knew she had to check. She couldn’t very well send a patient down there to check on the state of the lockdown, could she?

  “Alright,” Christina stood on shaky legs, “I’m going to go down to the first floor. Since the elevators are down since the building is on lockdown so, I’ll take the stairs. Then I’ll come back, and hopefully, everything is okay.” She looked around the room at everyone, each person in a different stage of panic. “Alright?”

  Amanda walked up to her and lowered her voice to a whisper. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?” She looked at the four living patients in the room.

  “I know you can handle it.” Christina patted her shoulder. “You’ll do just fine.”

  “That’s not what I mean. Are you sure you need to be going down there alone? What if there are more like her out there? We don’t even know what happened to her. It’s a stupid risk.”

  Max cleared his voice behind them and took a step forward, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Ummm, I could always go down there with you, Doctor Kovach.”

  Christina studied in skeptically. He was a PTSD patient and could be useful if anything were to happen because of his military background, but there were only so many responses to violent situations that she had actually witnessed in patients with this syndrome. Some ran the other way, some fought, and some died because they froze. She wasn’t sure which he was but, since Amanda did bring up a good point, she was about to find out. He was the most capable within the group when it came to the men in the room. She looked at Amanda and grinned weakly, trying to reassure her but knowing she wasn’t having any luck, then turned to Max, who was already taking pens out of the mug on Amanda’s desk and shoving them into his pockets just in case. Well, they were the only weapons they had, if you could even call a pen a weapon at all.

  “Okay, but do you really think those pens are the best things to take down there with us? I know it worked well on her, but what if there are more, and they strike all at once?”

  Max shrugged. “If you have any other suggestions I’m all ears. We’re in a psychiatrist’s office, so there’s not much in here to actually use to defend ourselves, you know?”

  Christina held up her index finger in triumph and said, “Well, then, we’re lucky I’m an avid golfer and have some iron hidden away in a closet in my office.” She took off, practically running into the room and toward the double doors in her office, which most assumed she didn’t have anything in. Just so happened she was telling the truth about loving golf. She played it often and had this set of clubs in her office as well as a set at home.

  She heard the footsteps of everyone following her, wanting to stay as close to their most trusted individual in the room as possible. She reached into the closet and plucked a five iron from the golf bag and beamed when she turned around to face her companions. Max’s eyes widened as he took in the golden accents on the metal. She was the proud owner of Honma Golf’s Five Star Set and, while she knew no one else in the office would understand, she was still damn proud. Amanda knew they were there and what they looked like so she was the only person missing in the room, still out in the waiting room as she armed herself.

  Christina took a deep breath in and said, “Let’s go before I change my mind.”

  They all went back out into the waiting room, and Christina reached for the door, making sure Max was behind her and ready to head out the door when a groan escaped the Jason’s dead body.

  “What the Hell was that?” Carlisle shouted. Donna had been standing right next to Jason’s body but moved only slightly to look at him, thinking nothing of the sound. “He made a noise!”

  “There’s no way, you idiot. He’s dead. You’re just paranoid,” Fred chided as he pointed at Carlisle with irritation.

  “I am not. If anyone in this room is paranoid, it’s you,” Carlisle retorted.

  What happened next came about so quickly no one could react. Jason’s body moved, taking Donna’s leg into its reaching hands and biting down on her ankle, ripping the Achilles tendon in a bloody display. Everyone reacted quickly, Christina, Amanda, and Max making it to her first, Fred only screaming instead of making a move to assist her, and Carlisle backed himself into a corner and began mumbling to himself. He did not handle stressful situations well, despite the Ativan he had taken. Donna screamed, falling to the ground as the risen body of Jason tore at her with animal ferocity

  Christina raised the golf club over her head and brought it down with as much force as she could muster, but the first swing did no good. He had latched onto her. Max stomped at the creature as Amanda attempted to drag Donna away from its gnashing teeth and clawing fingers. Christina brought down the golf club as many times as it took until it stopped moving which, by her counts, was as many as five times. Jason released Donna’s leg, and Amanda dragged her away from him, pulling her to sit up against the front of her desk. Donna was still screaming, alternating between pained cries and sobs as Christina attempted to survey what damage done.

  Donna’s ankle was now a mangled mess of tissue, blood, muscle and flesh, the torn tendon glistening sickly in the lights above their head. Max took the hem of Donna’s black, knee length skirt and ripped it, tearing off a piece of the fabric and tying it around her destroyed ankle. When his and Christina’s eyes met, there was understanding there that she would never walk again but did Donna know that?

  “Donna, I’m going to need you to look at me and please stop screaming,” Christina asked her client. She placed her hand on her shoulder and gave it a comforting squeeze. She knew she was in pain, but had nothing to offer her for it. Her only stock were samples of psych meds. Donna quieted ex
cept for a pained whimper and turned her face up to Christina’s. “It’s alright. Okay? You’re going to be fine.” She pushed Donna’s hair away from her face and turned to Max in that instant. “If we’re going to find out what’s going on, we’re going now.”

  “You don’t think she’ll end up like him?” Max asked as he pointed to Jason’s bloodied body, a piece of flesh still clenched between his front teeth.

  “I’ll be honest, I have no idea,” she admitted.

  “What? What does that mean?” Donna squealed, gripping Christina’s clean white shirt with one bloody hand.

  “It means she doesn’t know, Donna. We will figure this all out, right?” Amanda asked, a question in her eyes.

  “Absolutely,” Christina replied, her eyes shifting between Amanda and Donna, then settling on Max. “Let’s go.”

  * * *

  The door creaked open, and Christina looked outside, the hallway quiet with no sign of life and when she pushed the door open both her and Max completely stepped out. Max turned back to the door where Amanda now stood, her face white with shock as a result of the day’s events.

  “Lock this behind us. Got it?”

  Amanda nodded and shut the door as soon as Max turned away. He followed Christina as she made her way to the stairwell that would take them down to the first floor. In the event of a complete and total lock down, the elevators shut down, leaving you stranded on your designated floor unless you were willing to take the stairs. And they were more than willing just to get some answers. They inched their way toward the door, ever vigilant of any noise or movement they might see.

  “What do you think will happen to her, Doctor Kovach?” Max asked as they neared the doorway, Christina stretching out her arm to touch the cheaply made pressure treated lacquered wood.

  “I don’t know, Mr. Durant. Hopefully, we can get some answers down on the first floor.” She stopped in front of the door and turned only her head to look at him in the dim emergency lights. “And please, call me Christina.”

  He smiled a touch, small flecks of blood now visible on his face. She hadn’t noticed them before, but now they glared at her with clarity from the adrenaline.

  He put his hand out to her. “And call me Max.”

  She took his hand and shook it like they were reintroducing themselves. She was no longer the stuffy doctor examining him, and he was no longer a patient. Now they were partners in survival, changing their entire relationship. She released his hand and went to open the door when Max stepped in front of her, one of the pens gripped firmly in his hand with a white-knuckled grip. She didn’t understand why he didn’t take one of her golf clubs, but she decided now wasn’t the time to ask about his choice of weapons.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” Christina snapped at Max as he put his hand against the door to push it open so they could enter the stairwell.

  He looked confused for a moment and then his lips twitched up into a smile. “What? Did you want to go first?”

  She cocked her hip and placed a hand on it and jutted out her chin in defiance. “Yes, I do want to go first.” She was an active and independent woman who didn’t let a man dictate what she did, even in a dangerous situation. That just wasn't who she was and who she had been raised to be by her military-bred father.

  He let his hand fall to his side and backed away from the door, putting out his hand in a show if mock chivalry.

  “After you then, Doctor.”

  He was laughing at her, but she didn’t care. She pushed open the door without even thinking.

  “Thank you,” she said as she crossed the threshold. She was still wearing her heels, but that didn’t bother her. What did bother her, even in this situation, was that Max wanted to do everything first like she couldn’t handle what was possibly on the other side of the door. She didn’t want to say she was a feminist but wasn’t that what most would call her?

  “Uh-huh,” was Max’s only reply. He was grinning like a fool, but Christina chose to ignore it as best as she could. Before long they were on the landing to the first floor, and when they pushed out into the lobby, they were shocked at what they saw.

  It was a chaotic mass of people, some milling about, some standing around, and others bustling around sick individuals who were showing visible signs of the flu that had hit so hard this season. There were some people holding tissues to their noses, one who was bleeding, the tissue already soaked but they didn’t seem to notice it at all. There didn’t appear to be anyone in charge of the throng either, but you never knew in situations like this. Sometimes what looked like chaos was well-controlled, and Christina was hoping that was the case here. Max seemed to be fidgeting, the loud noise possibly being a trigger for his anxiety and PTSD behaviors. Christina placed a hand on his shoulder and nodded, letting him know everything would be alright.

  “Just take a deep breath. I’m sure this won’t take long,” she assured him. He nodded that he understood as a man who looked official enough in the hustle came to meet them, his light blue collared shirt a mess of sweat and just a small amount of blood. Something was going on in this part of the building that they couldn’t see, but Christina and Max were both too terrified by the sight to ask.

  “If you aren’t sick I need you to get back to your designated floor. We are attempting to keep down the spread of the virus at all costs,” the man said, his brown eyes looking them over before they even had a chance to say a word. “Since neither one of you look sick I’m assuming you don’t really need to be down here.”

  “We want to know what’s going on. Something made it up to the fourth floor. Killed one person and bit another. We need to know what we’re dealing with here, so we are aware of how to keep ourselves safe.” Max took the reins when it came to dealing with this man. It seemed it would take another alpha to deal with him at all, leaving Christina to wait for the answers if he was willing to give them at all.

  The man opened his mouth to speak, closing it before anything came out and began to walk away like the order for us to go back to the fourth floor was good enough. Christina grabbed his arm, stopping his escape.

  “Please,” she begged as she looked into his eyes, the bags underneath them showing just how tired he truly was. Her eyes scanned her surroundings, waiting for the other shoe to drop at any instance. She had seen what happens to people that are sick with this monster flu already. She only wanted the confirmation which, since she locked inside of this building with everyone else, she was entitled to. They all were.

  He sighed and his shoulders sagged, turning back toward her while still looking at the floor. When his eyes met hers there was determination there. “Alright, there has been an outbreak. As you both know the flu has been awful this year, but it seems to have mutated. Someone already called the CDC, but that’s all I know except there have been a few people that have become violent.”

  “Violent? Violent, how?” Max blurted out before Christina even had a chance to ask herself.

  The man lowered his voice even more. “A couple of people have started to attack others, trying to bite them.” He paused and licked his lips anxiously. “But that’s all I know, I’m sorry. Now,” he straightened and pulled on the bottom of his shirt that had untucked itself, “get back to your designated floor, and I’m sure all of this will be sorted out soon.”

  “But…” Christina began to protest as Max took her arm in his enormous hand.

  The man held up his hand and shooed them away. “Go, before I have, you both detained. I mean it. I will have you locked up.”

  Christina let Max pull her away from the man as her grip tightened on the golf club, a gasp leaving her mouth. “You are one nasty individual.”

  Max was almost laughing at her if it weren’t for the circumstances. “Look, they’re not going to tell us anything. I know you like being in control, but you don’t have that her and, well, I was good at taking orders. I say we go back upstairs and do what we can to protect ourselves if he doesn't tell us anything.
” Christina opened her mouth to protest. “I want answers too, but it looks like we’re not getting that today. We know enough to protect ourselves just in case this gets worse.”

  Max’s muscles were bunched underneath his hard flesh, making him look like he was going to hurt someone, but then Christina saw the sweat breaking out on his forehead and his chest rising and falling way too quickly. She knew that a trigger for his symptoms was coming and, as she looked around the room, she realized bodies completely packed the place, which could cause his anxiety to peak. He was trying to compose himself, but she wasn’t sure how well that would work down there. She touched his arm gently and felt his bicep twitch.

  “Hey,” she whispered, coming in close to his body, “are you alright?”

  He nodded and said, “Let’s just get out of here. I’ll be okay once we’re in not such a crowded place.”

  “Absolutely. We’ll go right now.”

  Before they have a chance to turn back toward the door that would take them back to the fourth floor a shrill, wet cry sounded from the middle of the large lobby, drawing everyone’s attention from whatever they had been doing. The one scream turned into a chorus of them as people that had been sitting on the waiting chairs began to stand, growling at those around them. The first to strike was a young man who looked to be in his late twenties, his brown hair matted to him with a feverish sweat and blood dripping from his nose and the corners of his mouth. He lunged at the nearest person who just happened to be an elderly woman who could not get away quickly, both of them falling to the ground in a heap as others who had risen from their seats ascending on her. Her cries were high pitched and echoed off of the walls, ringing in Christina’s ears as she looked on his abject horror.

  Stragglers didn’t bother with the old woman but moved onto those that had frozen in place because of the shock, eyes gaping as they took in the scene before them. That was when Christina noticed some were making their way toward her and Max near the door. She screamed, and Max shouted, taking her arm in his hand roughly and pulling her toward the door, pushing it open, and forcing her through the threshold as the throng of living dead staggered toward them. She attempted to run up the stairs, but the heels were a hindrance. Those creatures hadn’t made it to the door yet, so she stopped and plucked them from her feet, tossing them to the floor as Max watched her in amusement.