by mike Evans
Abie was a threat that needed to be stopped sooner not later. Laurel squatted down. The bottom cabinets didn't hold anything special, a couple of storage bowls, some plastic spoons and forks. She pulled open the drawers, but there was nothing much there either. Someone in the office had been kind enough to start a take-out drawer. She shuffled through the papers, checking to make sure there wasn't anything else hiding in the drawer. The tips of her fingers felt the blade of the knife before she saw it. Laurel pulled out her hand. Drops of blood blotted the paper menus. She stood up and grabbed a paper towel, putting pressure on the wounds.
The blade of the knife showed no evidence of slicing her. Her fingers didn't sting, but it did bother her to have open wounds while blood and guts were flying. She picked up the knife by the handle and placed it with her newly found supplies. There were fourteen bottles of water, three bags of potato chips, four candy bars, an apple, a half-eaten sandwich from the mini fridge, and a large portion of stale birthday cake. Of course, there was the coffee creamer, sugar, and coffee that she knew they would get some use out of. If they could get into the stock room, they would be set for a long time. There were multiple options for MREs, flashlights, water purification, and even a bible if they needed it.
She grabbed a plastic fork and dug into the birthday cake. The icing was crusty and the cake dry. It wasn't even good cake. The sugar high would feel good for a little while. The apple would have been a better choice, but it would last longer than the cake. Bite after bite, she shoved the cake in her mouth. She opened a bottle of water and guzzled it. Violence was not easy for her. Even when she was learning self-defense back at the ranch, it always occurred to her that things could possibly be talked out.
It wasn't going to happen today. Laurel grabbed the knife. She knew what she had to do, but for it to work, she'd need Alessia to stand beside her. It would take both of them to stop Abie.
Alessia
"You'd think it would be easy to find an old man rolling around in an office chair," Alessia grumbled as she tapped on a doorknob with the window wiper blade. Metal sparks flew.
"Well, we’re not going in that one anytime soon." She moved on to the next door.
"Think it of this way, even if he is behind one of these doors we can't open, he needs us alive. He needs help. Sure, he wants to kill everybody but he doesn’t have a death wish." Laurel said as she stood beside Alessia. Laurel held her broomstick up to her shoulder, ready for an epic battle at any moment, or as Alessia considered it further, an epic game of stick ball.
Another spark flew from the next door.
“Well, why did he act like he was ready to take us out then disappear?” Alessia’s frustration was coming back, they knew for sure there was a psychopath on the loose, a re-animated torso, and a poisoned undead guy walking around here somewhere. The tension of the unknown made her feel unhinged. Plus, every doorknob seemed to be charged. The old man could play cat and mouse for a couple of days at this rate. He might have even locked the two undead in one of the rooms as a trap for them.
She tapped the last doorknob with no success.
"Where else could he be?" Alessia’s question was as much for herself as it was for Laurel.
"Well, we didn't look in the call center. I guess we could go over there.”
Alessia leaned against the wall, then slid down. She stared at the long dark hallway to the call center. The place wasn't set up to make people happy. Tiny cubicles were packed together, creating a feeling of being caged like an animal. It was bad enough when you weren't expecting someone to jump out and bite you or do some sadistic shit to you.
Laurel sat down facing the doors to the elevator. Alessia watched as she stared at the bloody mess from earlier. Laurel giggled.
"What?" Alessia asked.
"You have to admit that dead guy getting cut in half was seriously fucked up." Laurel continued to laugh until she fell back on the floor.
This is what Alessia had seen people do in juvie when they were broken. Who was she to judge though? She'd checked out for a good two hours earlier after she took out three of the undead. Laurel continued to roll on the floor as though she were a child at a slumber party.
Alessia looked down the hall again. She noticed something she'd not seen before. A tiny green light flickered in the corner of the hallway. She stood up and walked toward it. She tried not to think about what else could be lurking in the shadows.
Laurel stopped laughing, pushed herself up, and followed behind. Alessia wanted to reach out for her hand, but held back. She was a grown woman, not some scared little girl who was afraid of the dark. As she reached the light, she bent down to pick up the object.
"What is it?"
"A cane."
The long brown wooden cane they'd seen Abie carrying wasn't wood at all. It was smooth, heavy, and reminded Alessia of super hardened pottery. The green light was some sort of power switch. Several other buttons lined the curvature of the handle. This had been how he continued to change things on them. He was definitely down the hallway if he'd left his cane. It made sense. Abie wouldn't go down the hallway willingly, but if he had an undead Rick Moranis look alike and a torso chasing him, then he might.
Alessia handed the cane to Laurel for inspection. She'd expected her to say something, but she stood silently surveying the design of the cane.
"We're already down here. Might as well check the damn call center." Alessia continued down the dark hallway. The call center were deliberately located far away from the senior staff. They could have easily put an entrance near the elevators for people to walk through, but that would have given the impression they were equal and had the same access as the administrative staff.
The call center was vacant. Rows and rows of empty cubicles filled the room. The grey carpet gave the place a dark and gloomy feeling even with the natural light streaming in.
"Look." Laurel pointed to a photo on a desk as they passed.
Alessia recognized the woman as the 1950s librarian. The woman was smiling from ear to ear as she hugged two young women. She looked proud to be with them. Alessia guessed they were her daughters. It triggered thoughts of her own mother, she figured her Mom was fine wherever she was. She'd always made it through everything else. A couple people rising from the dead wouldn't be a problem. Not for that tough old lady.
The late afternoon sun shone through the windows magnifying the shadows. Alessia noticed a trail of what she assumed was blood darkening the carpet where the light hit the ground between the cubicles.
She followed the trail.
Laurel
Laurel held back laughter as she watched the torso of a man desperately shove his fingers under the closet door. It reminded her of Georgia, her cat back home, she always stuck her paws under the bathroom door when Laurel was peeing.
Alessia shot her a dirty look. This made Laurel want to break out even more. She snorted instead. Rick Moranis look alike turned towards them.
"Ah, man," Alessia groaned. Laurel watched as Alessia impaled the undead guy in the shoulder, then guided him to a cubicle where she stuck the mop handle through the corkboard wall. His hands reached for Alessia. She stepped away.
"I think we’re going to need him," Alessia explained.
Laurel nodded. Alessia grabbed the cane from Laurel. She walked over to the door avoiding the oblivious torso, which kept clawing underneath. She rapped twice.
"Oh Abie, are you in there?" Alessia asked in a teasing sing-song voice.
Silence.
Laurel didn't want to play around. The sooner they ended this, the sooner she could close her eyes and rest for a couple of minutes. It would stop the giggles and maybe they could take a breath to develop a plan to get out of the building.
"Can we just open the door and drag him out?"
"Come on, that's no fun. Think of how he's tortured us." Alessia looked disappointed in her. Revenge would be sweet, thought Laurel, but the old guy had some important information they needed.
> "Well, we could just get him out and tie him up. I'm sure he'd turn around eventually." Laurel thought about it for a minute, "Maybe."
Alessia rapped on the door with the cane again.
"Abie, we know you're in there. Do you want us to get you out, or do you want to die in there?" Alessia was all business.
A muffled voice replied, "Do you ladies have my cane?"
"What cane?" Alessia said.
"Go get my cane and get me out of here. We can work something out," Abie said. His voice was less maniacal now, more like that of a tired old man.
"Oh, I bet you want to work something out. You crazy fuck," Alessia grumbled under her breath.
Laurel knew just as well as Alessia they weren't going to be able to let him go. It made her heart sink a little. It was like when you found out too late that your dog had rabies. He needed to be put out of his misery before he could hurt anyone else.
"Abie, I know you're a good person at heart. You just need some help. We'll help you. We'll take care of you."
Silence.
Alessia gave her a thumbs-up. Laurel signaled to Alessia to pull the torso away from the door. The duo dragged him by the arms, being careful to not let him roll onto his back. Laurel stood on him while Alessia grabbed a desk chair. The two positioned the legs in a way that pinned him. Alessia straddled the chair and grounded her feet solidly on the floor. Laurel walked over to the door and without thinking went for the doorknob. She recoiled at the last moment. It was so easy to forget that anything could be booby trapped in this place.
Laurel took out her silver earring and tossed it at the doorknob. No spark. She took a deep breath and carefully pulled the door open.
"Abie?"
Laurel was smart enough to keep her head back. There was no telling what else the old guy had up his sleeve.
The edge of the door appeared to spontaneously combust. Ringing filled Laurel's ears.
Behind her, Laurel heard a muted Alessia say, "What the fuck?"
The door exploded again, this time right in front of her, the side of Laurel's face felt wet. She backed away from the door, leaving it open. She definitely didn't feel like laughing now. Her stomach felt ice cold. She walked over to the wall and braced herself against it. The room spun around her.
Laurel watched through a daze as Alessia jumped out of the chair letting the torso free. It reminded Laurel of an action movie where the hero does everything elegantly in slow motion with a contorted look of vengeance and anger. Alessia pulled the mop handle and undead walker out of the wall. She swung him around and shoved him into the closet slamming the door behind him.
Single pops went off one by one.
Alessia grabbed Laurel by the arm and pulled her up.
"Help me shove this set of cubicles in front of the door. Even if they don't kill him, that motherfucker can starve to death in there."
Laurel looked at her friend. She knew it was blood running down her face, but the bullet wasn't in her skull, she was pretty sure about that.
"You fucking little bitches! You'll never get out of here alive!" Abie screamed.
"Well, neither will he," Alessia grunted as they shoved the square desk set against the door.
Laurel let out a laugh so hard she could feel it in her belly.
Alessia
"We've got seventy-two days worth of meals," Laurel said as she handed Alessia a chicken alfredo MRE.
Alessia turned back from the window. She couldn't meet Laurel’s eye. Instead, she gave a weak smile.
"You thinking about your mom?"
"Yeah," Alessia mumbled. She wished she could have a different conversation with her mother than the last one they had. In her heart, she wanted to believe her mother was still alive.
"I think about my family too."
"Yeah, but your family has bunkers and shit out in the middle of nowhere." Alessia knew Laurel was probably as worried about her family as she was about her mom. It was different being able to see the city your family was in crumble around you.
"Well, these assholes owned a prepper manufacturing company. Where did it get them?" Laurel chuckled.
Alessia looked back out the window. Smoke billowed from another building. They were in a fortress amidst a concrete jungle of a forest fire.
"We going to try to get out of here today?" Alessia asked.
"Yeah, why not?" Laurel dug her spoon into the brown foil package. "Isn't that the same thing we've been doing for the last two months?"
Alessia desperately wanted out of the building. They’d gotten used to the smell of rotten flesh. They’d dragged the bodies into Sean Black’s old office and stuffed the vents with clothes. The door was sealed with duct tape, but the smell continued to creep through the hallways reminding them of their violent transgressions.
Modern technology didn’t help either. For all the MREs, tents, sleeping bags, and warm packs they found there wasn’t a single transistor radio, television that could pick up an antenna signal, or way to communicate with the outside world. A couple weeks ago, there had been someone in a skyscraper across the street putting up signs. The building caught fire and crumpled to the ground. There was no way to tell if the guy was still alive. The streets were chocked with random shuffling walkers. She and Laurel had cheered when building debris fell on the oblivious undead.
Alessia looked out the window.
“What time is it?” Alessia asked.
“Is it out there?” Laurel scooted over to Alessia.
“Yeah, it’s still far out, but it’s coming.”
In the distance, a helicopter flew towards the building. They sat and watched as it came closer and closer. Alessia held back her desire to jump up and scream. The two had stop doing that after two weeks. The people in the helicopter weren’t interested in survivors.
Alessia scooped up the last of her MRE then folded over the bag. She pushed herself up and tossed it in the trash.
“You ready to start?” she asked Laurel.
“Let’s do what we do every day.” Laurel said as she got up.
Alessia knew they were in their tomb, but she’d wait until their 72 days were up to decide what to do next. Today, they would just try to get out.
The End
By Katie Cord
Shadows In The Dark
Floor Seven
James Dean
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© 2016 James Dean, All Rights Reserved
James Dean on Amazon
Floor Seven
The coppery smell of blood permeated every pore of Jared’s shivering body. The oppressive darkness inside the cramped utility room enveloped him like a cold blanket. Sticky pools of drying blood soaked into his cheap leather shoes until the thickening wetness slipped between his toes.
Disembodied voices drilled into his mind from all around him. Terrified whispers from unseen people floated through the crushing darkness. He thought he could feel their breath on his exposed skin, sensing their judgmental gazes on him.
He’d closed the door. He was the one that flipped the lock that sentenced so many of his coworkers to die on the other side, murdered by those … things. The things that were people…people that he knew and worked with. Architects from his office, dentists from the suite down the hall, even some of the IT guys who got trapped on his floor after the building locked down.
The memory of what he had done played over and over in his head. No matter how he tried, he couldn’t find anything in the pitch black room to stifle the images in his head, and of the people he had doomed.
It wasn’t his choice.
“Close the door!” a woman had screamed from deep inside the room.
“I can’t!” Jared cried. “There
’s more people coming!”
“They’ll kill us all!” a man pleaded.
“But…” Jared began.
“Please! I have kids at home!” another woman sobbed.
“I…I…” Jared whispered as he slowly closed the door.
Sally’s eyes were the last things he remembered seeing as the light faded away. The hopeful look on her face disappeared, replaced by pure horror when she’d realized what Jared was about to do.
“Wait! Jared! You spineless asshole! Just wait!” she’d cried.
“I’m sorry,” he exhaled as he pushed the door closed.
She screamed, beating against the door as Jared snapped the lock into place. The voice that had welcomed him every morning when he walked into his architectural firm now screamed vile obscenities at him. She was joined by the others behind her, pounding on the heavy door, begging to be let in.
Her terrified screams suddenly became howls of agony. Vicious growls and animalistic snarls grew outside, mingling with the tormented bellows of the dying. Jared leaned against the door, sliding down until he sat on the floor as he covered his ears to drown out the hell just inches behind him.
Jared felt something warm and wet begin to seep into his pants from under the door. Bile built up in the back of his throat as what he knew to be blood seeped into his pant legs. His mouth watered as his stomach readied to empty itself. He shot to his feet, desperate to escape the pool of blood beneath him. With a squeak, his shoes suddenly lost traction, sending him crashing back down to the floor.
The side of his head bounced into the thickening warm blood, sending pinpricks of white light shooting across his vision. Jared opened his eyes in time to see the crimson stream flowing under the door, blocking out the last of the light in the room.
He stood again, swooning as he moved away from the dying screams of the people he had worked with for years. Coworkers he had known even before they had moved their offices to the supposed ‘safest building in the world’. As much as he tried to block them out, their pleas for help wormed their way into his brain until their last living gasps evaporated. Even the growls seemed to fade away into an unnatural silence.
