"Okay, honey," he said. "Not yet. How about a sandwich?"
She didn't respond.
But surely she'd eat something, he thought. "Let me make you one."
He took the ingredients and started putting the sandwich together. It wasn't anything special. Just bread, cheese and meat. It would be good, nonetheless. He carefully put the sandwich together and, when it was finished, placed it to her mouth. As with the milk, her lips didn't part.
"Please, Alice. One bite."
Nothing.
John felt a wave of panic rush through him. His wife wouldn't drink. She wouldn't eat. He knew that she couldn't survive very long this way. She'd die of starvation.
"Please, Alice!"
Still nothing.
John calmed himself down. There wasn't anything he could do about his wife at the moment. She wasn't going to respond. He'd give her some time. He'd hope for the best.
He took a bite of the sandwich and lowered it to the workbench.
As he did, he swore to himself again.He had forgotten to go to the washroom!
Almost as if on cue, John heard a dripping sound. At first, he thought that his mind had been playing tricks on him again. But the sound continued. Then he smelled something.
"Alice," he said. He looked under the table and saw a puddle forming at her feet. "Oh, Alice."
He stood up and walked beside her. He placed his hand on her shoulder and tried to shake her out of her stupor. She continued to urinate of the floor, through her clothes.
John waited for her to stop. She had had to go (just like he did) and hadn't been able to control it.Stuck in that dreamworld of hers.
John rubbed her shoulders and told her that everything was going to be okay. He'd go upstairs and get her some new clothes. Plus a towel to clean her up.
"I was going to go up there anyway," he added. Not that it mattered. He would have gone up for her, regardless.
He leaned over and kissed his wife. Then he stood to leave.
As he did, he remembered the hammer. He needed to take that with him. It was hanging above the workbench. He reached over and grabbed it.
The hammer. His protection.
"I'll be back soon," he told his wife.
She continued to ignore him, staring off at nothing.
*
When he got back, John placed the towels and clothes onto the table. He put the hammer beside those. He had also brought down a bucket and filled it in the sink beside the washing machine. He went back to his wife and placed the bucket beside her.
"Alice," he said. "Can you stand?" He was sure that his wife wasn't going to say anything, but he wanted to try.
She didn't respond.
He grabbed hold of her hands and tried to get her up. She wouldn't move.
He went behind her and wrapped his arms around her. He tried to lift her. No luck.
"Alice, please," he said, knowing that it was pointless. His wife wasn't going to listen to him. She wasn't going to help. "All right, honey." He'd have to clean and change her while she remained seated.
He grabbed hold of her shirt and pulled it up over her head. Surprisingly, there was very little resistance. Her arms went up over her head and he was easily able to take it off.
Taking off her pants would be a bit more difficult. Alice wouldn't move off of the chair. His fingers grabbed at the her pants' button and fumbled for a moment before it came undone. He pulled down at the pants, each side bit by bit, until he got them over her waist and underneath her hips.
John reached under her and pulled again. He could smell the urine more now that he was so close to it. But he didn't pay it much attention. He was worried about his wife more than anything else. He tugged until her pants came out from underneath her and slid them down her legs.
He took off his wife's bra and panties next.
Her socks were last.
As she sat there naked, John looked her over. He wasn't embarrassed by what he saw. There was some indignity in it, he knew. But this was the woman that he had loved for years. He simply wanted to take care of her.
He dipped one of the washcloths in the bucket. Then he began wiping her down. He talked to her gently as he did. He told her that everything was going to be okay, that he'd figure it all out. Though these were things that he hoped, not things he necessarily believed.
When he finished, he dried her off and put the fresh set of clothes back on her.
"There we go," he said. "That's better."
He sat down and grabbed his wife's hand. He squeezed it again, hoping for any sign of recognition. Once more there was nothing.
"It'll be okay," he said. This was more to himself than to her.
He turned to the soiled clothes lying in the middle of the room. He could still smell them. Part of him wanted to get up and throw them into the washing machine. But a greater part didn't want him to leave his wife right now. He wanted to stay there just a little longer, to hold her hand and see if she'd come back to him.
Chapter 5
Scooter listened again. The sound was coming from somewhere nearby. And itwas crying.
He looked around to see if he could see anyone. The corridor was empty, except for all of the dead bodies.
The crying continued.
Scooter tilted his head toward the sound. Then he approached it slowly, unsure of where he might be headed. He stopped only when he got to the doors of an elevator. He could hear the crying on the other side of them.Someone was inside.
Immediately he wanted to call out, though he knew that that wouldn't be a good idea. If he made too much noise one of thosethings might hear him. Of course, he knew he'd have to make some sort of noise opening the elevator, but he'd deal with that when the time came.
He stepped closer to the elevator.
There wasn't any doubt in his mind that it wasn't one of the creatures. It didn't sound crazy enough. It actually sounded scared. And he didn't think that thosethings were afraid of much.
But what if he was wrong? How could he be sure.
Scooter took his spoon and brought it up to the elevator door. If it was one of thosethings, then it would go wild in there. It seemed like a good enough plan.
He tapped the spoon against the metal.
One, two, three.
The crying stopped for a moment. Scooter waited to see if the person inside would start shouting. Instead, he heard: "Hello? Is someone there?"
Scooter couldn't believe it. His heart started to race. Not because he was scared. He was excited that he had found someone.A survivor like him.
He felt the urge to call out again, but once more stopped himself.
He grabbed at the doors and tried to pull them apart. His fingers slid along them. They couldn't catch hold.
"Fuck," he said in frustration.
He tried again.
No luck.
He thought about the spoon and realized it might be able to help him. He stuck it inside the crack of the elevator doors and tried to wedge them open.
"Fuck," he said again as the spoon bent.That's not going to work.
He dropped the spoon to the floor. It clattered. Hopefully not loud enough to bring him any attention.
He looked around. He had to find something else.Something stronger. A crowbar would have been ideal, but be didn't think that there was going to be one of those around.
However there was something that he thought would work just as well.
On the wall he saw a fire hydrant. Beside it was an axe.
He rushed over to it.
It was behind glass that he'd have to break.It would make a sound, might bring the creatures running. But he didn't have much of a choice.
He clenched his fist and got himself ready to punch through it. Then thought better of that idea.
He took off his shirt and wrapped it around his hand. He took a deep breath and punched at the glass. It shattered and fell at his feet.
Scooter's heart began to race again. He was sure that one of the crea
tures had heard him. The crash had been so loud.
He turned around, realizing that he should have looked for a place to hidebefore he broke the glass. He had to be prepared for these things. Though that wouldn't help him now...
He searched.
There were washrooms, a smoking lounge, several benches.
Then he saw a stairwell. It was close to the elevator.
That would do.It would give him a chance to get away.
He got ready to run, but he didn't leave his spot. He'd only go if he saw one of the creatures coming.
He held his breath and tried to ignore his beating heart. He listened.
Nothing.
Scooter felt better. His plan had worked. He turned back and grabbed the axe.
"Damn," he said, holding it out before him in admiration.This'll make a pretty good weapon if one of those things come along.
He put his shirt back on and took the axe back over to the elevator. He could still hear the crying. He tapped the axe against the doors this time. There was a deeper thud, but it had had the desired effect. The crying stopped.
"Hello?" a voice said again.
"Shhh," Scooter said. "I'm going to get you out."
His voice was nothing more than a whisper. He wasn't even sure if the person inside could hear him. But it was all that he was willing to do given the circumstances.
He put the blade of the axe in between the elevator doors. He had to push harder than the spoon to get it in there.
Eventually it went.
He pressed on the side of the axe and tried to separate the door. It took him a few tries before he was able to get his fingers into the opening. Once he did, he grasped at the doors and spread them apart. They opened a lot easier than he had expected.
He looked into the elevator.
At first, it was difficult for him to understand what he was seeing. There were a few dead bodies. A lot of blood. And a little girl. She was sitting there, looking up at him.
"What the fuck?" he asked.
The little girl's chin started to quiver and she burst into another bout of tears.
Scooter didn't wait. He bent down a picked her up. She was very small and slipped within his grasp.
The blood,he thought.It's all over her!
He finally got a hold of her and pulled her into his arms.
"Are you okay?" he asked. He needed to know if she was hurt.
The little girl continued to cry.
"Shhh," he said. He patted the back of her head. "It's okay now. I'm here."
She rested her head against his shoulder and continued to sob into it.
Scooter looked around. This wasn't good. The little girl was making too much noise. He couldn't blame her. She had obviously been through hell. But that still didn't make it okay for her to do. Thethings would hear. They'd come rushing after them. They'd attack.
"Shhh," Scooter said again. "You have to be quiet. It isn't safe."
The girl ignored him, keeping her face pressed against him.
"We have to get out of here," Scooter said next.
At that, the little girl raised her head from Scooter's shoulder and locked her eyes on his. He could see that she was trying to make sense of what he had said, all that had happened. She ran her tiny hand over her eyes and brushed some of her tears away. Then she spoke.
"My daddy," she said. "He's sick."
She pointed to the elevator. Scooter looked. Her father must have been one of the three dead bodies in there.
"I'm sorry about that," he said. "But I can't help your father."
"You have to," the little girl pleaded with him.
Scooter didn't know what to say. He couldn't tell the girl that her father was dead. Especially at the moment. He needed to think about where they should go next.
"I can't," was all that he managed. He started to walk away from the elevator.
"My daddy! Please help him!"
Scooter wished that he could have helped her more than he had. He didn't care all too much for his own father, but he couldn't imagine losing him at such a young age.And in such a fucked up way. He felt for the little girl. He really did. But he had to get moving. He had to…
Scooter stopped. He could see one of the creatures standing at the end of the hallway. Its head was moving from side to side.
Then it started to scream and charge in their direction. The creature had seen them. The little girl saw it happen and started to scream as well.
Scooter didn't wait. He turned and headed to the stairwell. He kicked open the door and ran through it. He rushed down the stairs, placing his hand behind the little girl's head as he went.
"Don't worry," he whispered to her.
She didn't seem to hear. She continued to scream, her sounds muffled against his neck.
Scooter got down the first flight of stairs without much trouble. He looked back up at the door, expecting the creature to burst through it at any moment. He heard banging. That was all.
For a moment, it occurred to him that the creature might not be able to open the door. Maybe it didn't know how to.
That idea was short lived.
The door swung open. The screaming continued.
Scooter ran. He got to the door on the floor below and opened it. He wasn't sure what would be on the other side, but he didn't stop to think about it.
One thing at a time.
He ran out of the stairwell. The little girl kept her face pressed against him. He figured that was for the best. She didn't need to see any of this stuff.
He closed the door behind him and ran out into the new corridor.
Where was he? Where could he go?
He heard the creature slam against the door a few seconds later.
"Fuck," Scooter swore out loud.
He had thought that the creature was going to charge out and get them. It hadn't. For some reason, this door was giving the creature a little more trouble. It continued to beat its fists against it. Scooter could hear its screams echoing in the stairwell.
It'd only be a matter of time before it figured it out.
Scooter looked around again.
Unlike upstairs, this part of the airport looked familiar. At least, somewhat. It was the arrivals area. Not a whole lot different from above. But he was sure that he had come by here once or twice.
The pounding continued. He heard muffled screaming behind the door.
The little girl had stopped screaming now, but she continued to weep into his neck.
"It'll be okay," he said to her. "We just need a place to hide."
He patted the back of her head again and ran.
He quickly found a door. It was forAuthorized Personal Only - which he was. There was a keypad on it - which he knew the combination to.
He pressed his fingers against it and began to punch in the code. His hand was shaking so badly that he messed up a few of the numbers.
"Shit," he said.
He pressed the buttons again. And again.
There was a burst of sound as the stairwell door flew open. The creature came running out and looked directly at Scooter and the little girl. It let out another scream and came at them.
Scooter turned back to the keypad. His fingers pressed the numbers once more.
The creature came closer.
The door clicked open.
Scooter pulled the door back and rushed through.
As he did, the creature reached out to grab him. Scooter felt its fingers on his shoulder. But it didn't have enough of a grip on him.
Scooter was able to yank himself away. He closed the door. It locked automatically.
They had escaped.
Chapter 6
Scooter looked out of the little window in the door. He could see the creature banging on it, screaming. Spit and blood shot out of its mouth as it yelled. Its fists started to bleed.
Scooter knew that he shouldn't stay there any longer. Not with the little girl in his arms. But she didn't do much more than cry into his
neck. And he wanted to see what this creature would do next.
It continued to hit. It continued to scream.
Then it stopped.
It turned its head, obviously hearing something else. Something that Scooter hadn't.Another creature? Another survivor? Scooter didn't know.
He watched as the creature ran off. Only for a little of the way. The window in the door was small and he couldn't see much that was out there.
"All right," Scooter said, turning his attention back to the little girl. "It's okay. We're safe for now."
The little girl pulled her face away from his neck and looked up at him. "What about my dad?" she asked. "He's in the elbator."
Scooter didn't know what to say to that. He had seen the girl's father in theelbator. The man was dead.
"He's...he's..." Scooter couldn't finish.
"He's sick," the little girl continued. "We have to help him."
Scooter shook his head. "We can't help him."
"Why not?"
"Because we can't."
"We have to!"
Scooter decided to ignore the little girl's plea. He knew that it probably wasn't the best solution, but it was all that he could think of.
"We need to get moving," he said.
The little girl didn't bother saying anything else. She simply put her face back into his neck and started to weep again. Scooter tried his best not to pay her any attention. He needed to focus on the hallway, on where they were going.
As he made his way down the hallway, he noticed that there wasn't as much blood in here as there had been in the main hall. That wasn't to say that there wasn't any.Just not as much.
He came upon a body lying on the ground, but couldn't make out who it was. The person's nose and cheeks had been torn from his skull. He wondered if he had known him. Though the airport was big. There were hundreds of people who worked there. He didn't know them all.
He stepped over the body. He told the little girl not to look as he did. She still had her face crammed into his neck and wasn't likely going to look at anything.
"All right," he said after he walked a little while longer. "I think I know where I'm going,"
The hallway looked familiar. There were a few rooms on each side of him. He thought one was a utility closet. The other, an office of some sort. He could see that the hall came to an end a little further down.
Glory (Book 2) Page 6
