Survive (Day 3)

by Wise, A. R.

  “Sure, I guess, but the guy worked his ass off for his family, and he helped me out every time I needed it.”

  “And you were there for him too. It worked both ways.”

  “Porter never needed my help.”

  “Uh, hello,” she said patronizingly. “You were helping him get to his family. That’s how we ended up here. He pissed his wife off, and she took off with the kids. It’s not like he was perfect, Red.”

  “It wasn’t his fault Mary left.”

  “I’m sure it was at least partially his fault. Marriage is a two-way street, and let’s be honest, Porter could be difficult to put up with sometimes.”

  “It wasn’t his fault.” Red was getting defensive. “Mary cheated on him. That’s why she left. He wanted to try and work it out, but she didn’t. He came home from work one day and she was gone. She took the kids and left without any warning. Broke his heart.”

  “Oh wow, I had no idea she cheated,” said June.

  “He didn’t want anyone to know. I’ll never forget getting that call. It wrecked him. He loved his boys more than anything. Losing them tore him up.” Red wiped away a tear that had crept to the edge of his eye. “He was a good man, and a good father, and a good husband. Trust me, the wrong brother died last night.”

  “Red, stop it. Don’t say that.”

  “I’m serious. I’m not trying to be melodramatic. It’s the truth. I should’ve been the one running out there to protect him, not the other way around. He had a family. It should’ve been me saving him.”

  “Red,” she said and came to comfort him. “Hey, come here.” She embraced him as he tried not to cry.

  “Fucking look at me,” said Red as he wiped the tears from his cheeks. “I’m useless, and crying, and locked in a high school classroom.” He let out a quick laugh at the absurdity of their situation. “Porter would’ve already been out of this place. I don’t even know how, but he would’ve figured something out. Not me, though. Nope. I’m sitting here crying like a useless little baby.”

  “Hey, stop,” she said in an attempt to calm him.

  “I’m sorry you’re stuck with me instead of him. You got the short end of the stick on that one.”

  “Okay, that’s enough,” said June, tired of his self-loathing. “I know you’re still messed up about what happened last night. I get it, but enough’s enough. Porter wasn’t a saint. He had his problems.”

  “He wasn’t a saint, but he was a hell of a lot better than me.”

  “You know what?” She bit her lip, shook her head, and then said. “I didn’t want to bring this up, and I’m not even sure I should, but I think there’s something you need to know about your brother. I’m not trying to talk bad about him, but…” She walked away, frustrated and uncertain if she should continue.

  “What?” asked Red.

  June took a deep breath, and then asked, “You remember how I found something this morning, back at the truck? I stuck it in my pocket and you asked me what it was. I told you it was a tampon. Remember?”

  “Yeah.”

  “It wasn’t a tampon. It was morphine.”

  Red stared at her, confounded by the revelation.

  “It was the bottle of morphine that he was supposed to give to Abraham yesterday. He didn’t give it to him. He stole it, and he stole the rest of his medicine too.”

  “Wait…” Red shook his head. “That’s not… Are you sure?”

  “Yes, I’m sure,” said June. “I didn’t want to tell you. Maybe I shouldn’t have told you, but I think you deserve to know.”

  “What’re you saying? You think he left Abraham in there? There’s no way. He must’ve gotten the morphine somewhere else.”

  “No, he didn’t. The guy’s name was on the bottle.”

  “Where is it?”

  “The bottle? I left it back at the car when we got pulled over.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know, force of habit.”

  “Force of habit?” he asked in disbelief. “Do you hide drugs from the cops a lot?”

  “Yeah, Red. I used to.”

  “Used to? What, were you a drug mule or something? Jesus.”

  “This isn’t about me, or what I used to do. Okay? It’s about you facing the fact that your brother wasn’t the saint you made him out to be. I don’t know if he left Abraham there to die of cancer, or if he killed him, or if…”

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa,” said Red, infuriated. “Killed him? Quit jumping to fucking conclusions.”

  “Why, is it better if he left him there to die in pain?”

  “How the hell am I supposed to believe you? How do I know you didn’t take the drugs? You’ve been hiding them from me all day. And now I’m finding out you used to be some sort of Columbian drug mule or some shit.”

  “Oh my God. Fuck you.” She pushed him hard enough to knock him off the table. He stumbled and regained his footing as she berated him, “I was trying to help you, you asshole.”

  “Oh boy, thanks for all the help. You’ve been a real big help,” he said with exaggerated sarcasm.

  “Don’t even talk to me right now.” She walked towards the door, and then turned sharply. “I know you’re upset about what happened. I get it, but don’t take it out on me like this. I’m the only one you’ve got left.”

  “For now,” said Red under his breath.

  “What’d you say?”

  “Nothing.”

  “No, tell me what you said. Man up and say it to my face.”

  “I said ‘For now.’”

  “And what’s that supposed to mean? Are you going to dump me the first chance you get? Is that the plan? Just another trashy bitch you fucked for a few weeks. Is that what I am?”

  “Oh Jesus, this is not what I want to be talking about right now.”

  “Then why bring it up?” she asked.

  “Because you’re being the queen of all bitches right now.”

  “Oh, trust me, little man, you haven’t seen nothing yet. If you want to go to war with me, then let’s…”

  Gunfire halted their argument. A single shot echoed, muted by the walls but undeniably distinguishable. The first shot was followed by a barrage, as if a soldier was letting loose an entire magazine in hall outside their door.

  “Get down,” said Red as he pulled June towards the teacher’s desk. They cowered on the side as sounds of battle shook the floor.

  “What should we do?” asked June.

  “Help me push the desk against the door.”

  “Then we’ll be trapped in here.”

  “We’re already trapped in here. If this place gets overrun, we’re going to have to hide in here. If the good guys win, we can move the desk.”

  “All right,” said June before helping him push the heavy desk across the tile. Its legs squealed as they forced it tightly against the door.

  Red dared to peek through the thin window, but didn’t see anything. The shouts of soldiers came in from under the door, easily heard as they screamed about incoming hostiles. More gunfire erupted, and Red ducked away. June took his hand and pulled him away from the door. They went to the far corner of the room, and gathered some student’s desks to create a shield to hide behind in case bullets were fired their way.

  They cowered, and held each other.

  Day Three – 9:31 pm

  Porter spit on the floor and rubbed the cuff of his shirt on it in an attempt to hide the scratch marks. The damage to the concrete wouldn’t vanish, so he sat over them and crossed his legs. He waited patiently, toying with the Gloc handgun Jeff had left with him. He held it painfully tight, warming the grip.

  When the double doors opened, he lowered the gun between his legs, hiding it.

  “I brought you something to eat,” said Doctor Paulson. “Do you get hungry?”

  “Where’s Jeff?”

  Paulson was carrying a tray with a plate of formerly dehydrated mashed potatoes and strips of beef. He stood a couple feet away from the cell door. “He�
��s meeting with Tally. She’s helping him run some tests on your blood. Now stay where you are. I’m going to slide this tray in. It’ll make a mess when it hits the floor, but you’ll have to live with it. Don’t move.” Paulson placed his right hand on the pistol at his side. “I wouldn’t want to have to put down Jeff’s favorite new pet.”

  “You don’t have to worry about me,” said Porter. “I’ll cooperate however I can.”

  “Oh really,” asked Paulson in humored disbelief.

  “Honestly. If there’s a chance for a cure, I’ll do anything you want.”

  Paulson eased the tray through the slot, and then let it drop to the floor on the other side. Mashed potatoes and gravy splattered, even reaching the back of the cell where Porter sat.

  “Who told you there was a cure?”

  “Isn’t that what the tests are for? That’s what Jeff said. And I’ll do whatever it takes. Tell me how I can help, and I’ll do it.”

  “Sure,” said Paulson as he headed for the door.

  “Wait,” said Porter. “You don’t believe me?”

  “Nope.”

  “Here, let me prove it.” Porter revealed the gun.

  Paulson’s eyes grew wide, and he looked at the desk where the Gloc had been before.

  Porter quickly said, “It’s okay, it’s not loaded. Jeff gave it to me as part of a test, but then he left it in here with me.”

  Paulson’s momentary worry eased. “There’s nothing you can do with it.”

  “Except maybe try to scare someone into letting me out. What if Tally came in here, or some other guard? Look, I’m trying to prove a point. I’m willing to cooperate. Okay? What other reason could I have to give this up?”

  Porter stood and approached the cell door, avoiding the plate of food. Paulson drew his gun.

  “Here, I’m just going to put it through here. Okay?” Porter carefully lifted the slot’s flap, and balanced the gun beneath it with the barrel pointed partially into the cell, then he eased the flap down, trapping the gun in place as if he was precariously balancing stones. He put his hands in his pockets, and then walked slowly to the back of the cell where he’d been sitting. “There, see? I want to help.”

  Paulson sneered, and then pulled a pair of latex gloves out of his pocket. “Let’s see what we have here.” He went to the cell door and bent down to inspect the weapon. Porter watched eagerly.

  “Nice try,” said Paulson as he delicately pinched the grip of the gun and eased it out of the slot. The flap snapped shut, and he held the gun up while admiring the sharpened spring that Porter had wrapped around the grip. A drop of blood fell from the end of the spring.

  Porter rushed the door, angry that his trap had been discovered. He slammed his shoulder against the glass, hoping to dislodge it from the wall. After failing to budge the door, he reached his hand through the slat. His feet slid in the mashed potatoes, and he fell to one knee.

  Paulson laughed. “I’ve got to hand it to you, this was a good try. You must’ve spent a while getting this spring out and sharpening it like this. Did you rub it against the wall?” He looked into the cell and saw the scratches on the floor. “Oh, I see. You sharpened it on the floor. Good try. An idiot might’ve fallen for it. Unfortunately, I’m not an idiot.”

  “I’m trying to help you,” said Porter.

  “Well, you can try again tomorrow,” said Paulson. “For now, eat your food and get some sleep.” The doctor took out a cigarette and put it in his mouth while watching Porter struggle.

  Porter continued to try and reach through the slat in the door, only managing to get his hand through. “Let me help you. I can help.”

  Paulson took a deep drag, and then bent down so that he could blow smoke in through the slat. “Sleep tight. See you in the morning.”

  Porter watched the man leave, but his vision suffered from the smoke from the cigarette irritated his eyes, causing them to water even more than they already were. He stepped back, and rubbed his eyes in annoyance.

  “See you in the morning, Paulson.” He tried to rub away the tears the smoke had caused.

  Day Three – 11:36 pm

  The gunfire had ceased, but that didn’t ease Red’s mind. In fact, it did the opposite.

  “We can help,” shouted someone from the hallway.

  June and Red had piled multiple chairs and tables against the door to secure it. As it became clear that the soldiers and doctors were losing the battle, Red and June were forced to barricade themselves. They cowered in the far corner, praying for the infected to leave.

  The door shook, causing the chairs and tables piled against it to rattle. Red held June close, feeling utterly helpless.

  “We know you’re in there. Let us in. It doesn’t hurt. I promise. We can help you.”

  The door slammed against the obstructions piled against it. A chair fell from the stack. It clattered to the floor. Red let go of June, and headed for the felled chair.

  “What’re you doing?” asked June.

  “I’m going to try and stop him from getting in.” Red ducked as he ran to the chair, trying to avoid the sight of the man peering inside. A flashlight’s beam pierced through the thin window on the door, focusing on Red as he carried the chair over to the far side of the pile of desks.

  “I see you!” The beam of light followed Red. “Let me in. I can help!”

  “Fuck,” said Red in frustration with himself for getting caught. He put the chair against the pile of desks, and then braced his feet on the wall. He pushed as hard as he could, pressing the stacked furniture tight and allowing his leg strength to keep the door more secure.

  “Move away from the door,” said a new voice from the hall. “We’re going to shoot the door. We don’t want to hit you. We’re here to help.”

  “Red, move,” said June.

  He looked at her, but stayed where he was.

  “Red!”

  “On the count of three,” said the voice outside. More faces gathered, peering in through the tiny window.

  “One.”

  “Red, move!”

  He refused.

  “Two.”

  “Red, please!”

  Red tucked his arms in and lowered his head.

  “Three.”

  Gunfire shredded the door, piercing it in dozens of places and splintering the wooden desk. Several chairs fell from the stack and bounced on the floor. Red screamed in rage and defiance as bullets struck the wall in front of him.

  “Are you okay?” asked June once the gunfire ceased.

  “Yeah, they didn’t get me,” he said.

  A flashlight’s beam shone in through the door’s window, searching for them. The beam found June.

  “There’s at least two of them in there,” said a female voice. Her fingers reached in through bullet holes.

  “Move,” said a man just before an axe head slammed into the door. “We’re coming to help!” The axe banged against the door again, splitting a deep cut beside the window.

  “Red,” said June as she joined him. “Do you still have the lighter?”

  “Yeah, why?”

  “Because if I’m going to die, I’m taking a few of them with me.”

  “Wait,” said Red. “What’re you going to do?” He gripped the lighter tight, refusing to hand it over.

  “I’m going to burn this place down.”

  “Holy shit, are you serious?”

  The axe struck the door again, breaking a chunk away that allowed the infected to start to reach through the opening and push away the stacked furniture.

  “Yeah, I’m serious.”

  He stared at her, dumbfounded, and then nodded. “Okay then, fuck it, let’s do this.”

  “Find some paper,” said June. “Anything that’ll burn easy.”

  Red helped her gather stationary, and they placed it beneath the teacher’s desk. The infected had swarmed the door. They ripped at the broken wood and pushed away anything blocking their path. The axe struck the door again, widening
the opening, and one of them started to climb through.

  “Come and get me, mother fucker,” said June as she slammed a plastic chair against the intruder.

  “It’s lit,” said Red as the papers ignited.

  “Help me fight them,” said June as she picked up another chair. Red did the same, and they traded shots at the intruders, hitting them to keep them at bay as the flames grew.

  The old, wooden desk ignited, and soon the flames were licking up the wall, accelerated by the varnish on the furniture. The man who’d attempted to crawl through the broken door was caught in the inferno. He screamed in pain before retreating.

  Red and June went back to the corner of the room where they’d been hiding, and laid on the cold tile. She put her hand in his and squeezed tight.

  The axe slammed into the door again, but the raging fire provided an ample barrier. The room swiftly filled with smoke, and the fire caused it to glow orange.

  “June, I’m sorry about the queen of the bitches thing.”

  She laughed, squeezed his hand tighter, and said, “Save your sorries for heaven. I’ll kick your ass when we get there.”

  The infected were relentless in their determination to get inside. The axe continued to chop despite the flames, and soon the teacher’s desk began to move. The legs screeched on the tile.

  “They’re getting in,” said Red. “There’s no way I’m getting infected.”

  “Stay down,” said June when Red tried to stand. “There’s too much smoke.”

  “I’m not going out without a fight.”

  “I hear you,” said an infected as he pushed his way into the room. “Stay where you are. I’ll help.” He ran into the room, but the smoke blinded him. He haphazardly swung the axe downward, missing Red and June by several feet. The axe banged on the tile, leaving a large gash.

  Red crouched and prepared to lunge, but June took his arm and pulled him close. The haze of smoke hid all but the legs of the infected as they charged into the room. They pushed aside the blazing debris, burning themselves in the process.

  “Where are you?” asked the infected.