They all looked at him, and just as he wanted they came for him.
He had to time it just right. Wait until the first in the pack were on his heels. Once he saw they were in pursuit, Brady raced back into the stairwell and up the steps.
Clear.
As if Brady was the only meal in town, they followed him. The wave of infected swept down the hall clearing the area in front of room 422.
Quickly and silently, Jason hurried to the room. He prepared to knock, but as soon as he raised his hand, he saw the door wasn’t latched and he slowly pushed it open.
It stopped only four inches into opening when it hit against something, causing what sounded like a rattling of dishes. He moved it with slightly more force and saw that a room service cart had blocked the way.
The second he squeezed through the smell hit him. Sour and rotten, and Jason’s heart sunk. He knew what that smell was.
The curtains were probably opened because the small entrance way into the room was lit with natural lighting.
Flies swarmed around the leftover food, a bit of steak, French fries and a salad. Jason lifted the knife from the cart, pushed it out of the way and walked in.
He moved slowly, cautiously, a few steps into the room he saw a man’s leg. He wore dark slacks, a shiny black shoe rested a few inches from the foot that sported a black sock.
The room was a suite, and he walked into what looked like a living room. As suspected, the curtains were open, and he looked down to the man on the floor.
There was nothing left of his back, it had been torn apart, clothing was shredded and every bit of flesh was removed from his exposed spine. The back of his head was missing and a portion of his brain spilled out.
The man’s right hand was an inch from a pistol, and Jason bent down for it. After he lifted it he heard the slurping sound.
He checked the safety and saw the chamber was engaged, with his hand trembling he followed the sound.
His feet squished on the blood soaked carpet. In Jason’s mind he prepared for the worst. The suited man clearly was killed by an infected. There was a possibility the infected was his wife.
Center of the living room in its own puddle of blood was a man’s arm. He quickly looked back to the other body, he had both arms. It belonged to someone else.
Across the living room he saw the open door to the bedroom, and another male’s body. That one lay by the door, that body was missing an arm.
A few more steps he could see the pack and play basinet next to a bed.
Gun raised, Jason prepared himself for anything, or so he thought. The slurping sound grew louder as he closed in on the bedroom suite. Hand extended, he pushed open the door.
Any courage or strength he had went out the window.
He saw two things when he stepped into the bedroom.
The first registered right away, the other was delayed.
Immediately, across the room was a woman in a housekeeping uniform. She gnawed on a portion of a woman’s arm, he could see the nail polish. The housekeeper was gray and splotched with purple marks. A portion of her face was torn off, and as she lifted her head to look at Jason she pulled away flesh, it dangled from her mouth as she snarled.
He didn’t have time to react or register it, immediately after seeing that he saw the bassinet.
The white elephant blanket was covered in dried blood and it bunched up on a blood soaked bassinet pad.
There was nothing recognizable in the crib except the torn and shredded blue sleeper that rested amidst a slushy pile of remains.
The gun toppled from Jason’s hand.
Brady was positive he had them trapped on the eighth floor. He pulled the stairwell door closed and jammed it and had almost made it to the fourth floor when he heard Jason’s ungodly scream.
It wasn’t one of physical pain, it was gut wrenching and agonizing. Brady knew what that meant. He raced the rest of the way down, and as soon as he emerged into the fourth floor hall he saw Jason sitting on the floor outside of room 422.
His back was against the wall, his knees bent up and he held something bloody in his hands as he kept crying out.
“Jason, shh. Please. Quiet.” It wasn’t the most compassionate thing Brady could say, but he also knew when he lured the infected through the east stairwell he didn’t secure the door.
“My baby.” Jason looked at Brady.
That was it. That was what he held in his hands.
Brady instantly got sick and closed his eyes tightly, he moved towards Jason. He needed to get his friend out of there and comfort him. “Dude, we have to go. Please, I’m so sorry.” He reached down for him. When he did, out from the room lunged an infected in a housekeeping outfit. She dove on Jason, sinking her teeth into his shoulder.
Jason cried out only once.
Brady dove forward, but the housekeeper was relentless in her attack. He pulled at her and she wielded her arms at him, snapping her jaw. Brady kicked and punched her, but she wouldn’t let go, and Jason didn’t fight. He pulled at Jason, finally freeing him as Brady delivered another shove and kick to the housekeeper, sending her back.
He took ahold of his bleeding friend, helping him to his feet and moving him back down the hall.
Suddenly Jason freaked out. He pulled from Brady and went back towards the room.
“My baby, I dropped him.” He dropped to the floor by the door, grabbing a cloth that lay there.
“Jason.” Brady moved to him and that was when the infected charged from the stairwell at the other end of the hall.
Before he could do anything, the infected housekeeper was on top of him, and the first of the charging horde lunged as well.
In seconds, Jason was encompassed. Like football players piling on a fumbled ball they kept building a mound, each trying to get a piece.
There was nothing Brady could to help Jason.
Nothing.
Heartbroken and scared, he whispered, “I’m sorry.” then spun on his heels and fled for the other stairwell.
SEVENTEEN – FINISHING
Aaron stood on the pier watching each and every person step from the ferry. He had to. The doctor and scientist in him visually examined each person as they passed by him.
He and another doctor repeated instructions for them to head to the resort and wait. There they’d be checked out and given a place to stay.
There were close to fifty people that stepped off that ferry.
Men, women, and children.
They carried belongings, draped with blankets for warmth. They all made eye contact as they walked by.
Some looked sick, some didn’t. They all had one thing in common, though. They all appeared embattled.
Worn out, emotionally and physically. The scars of what they witnessed as visible as any bite or scratch.
He stayed there until the very last person disembarked.
Then he asked Gil, because he had mechanical experience, to go onboard and figure out a way to disable the ferry, then look to see what supplies they had.
There was food on the island and some left over from the residents. Not enough, Aaron guessed, to sustain them for the long term.
“You made the right choice,” Vivian told him.
“What other choice did I have?”
“You could have left them out there.”
“Yeah, I could have. Putting us at risk.”
“Despite what Gil said, and maybe what you believe, these people weren’t a threat. They needed safety, we’re it.”
“But for how long?” Aaron asked. “The more people on this island, the more chance there is that an outbreak will occur. You may be immune to the parasite, but you aren’t immune to bleeding to death, or starving.”
“We’ll figure out a way.”
“We will?” He shook his head. “There aren’t many doctors here, all of us are primarily research doctors. We don’t have time to care for the sick, the injured. We can’t just say, ‘welcome ashore’ and let them be. They’ll do
what they can to survive, and whether or not you believe it, there are limited resources here. We are a temporary sanctuary, not a long term salvation.”
“Did you look at them?”
“I did.”
“No,” Vivian said. “Look at them. If their faces are any indication of what is out there, then we very well may be the only chance there is for long term salvation.”
“How is that supposed to happen?” Aaron asked. “We no longer have a controlled environment. At any given second this island could become what they escaped.”
“We can’t think that way. We have to think like it stops here. Plan for the long term.”
“Planning for the long term happens by taking a look at the short term,” Aaron said. “We don’t have time to figure out who sleeps where and how much food we have. We have to focus on beating this thing.”
“Then I’ll do it. I’ll figure it out. What we have, what we need to do. I’ll do it.”
Aaron just looked at her. “Why?”
“What else do I have to do? Be tested, sit at The Brewery drinking and thinking how much I miss my family and want to die? No, I’ll do this.”
Aaron nodded. “Fine, I’ll hold you to that. We’re going to check them out first, while we do that, you figure out where we put them.”
“Deal.”
Another nod and Aaron turned and walked off.
It wasn’t that he lacked compassion, Aaron was very compassionate. More people, more mouths to feed, and an increased chance of an outbreak just hindered his focus on his responsibility. They would stay on his mind even with Vivian taking control over refugees.
They were one ferry, yes, but how many more would show up?
Would they let them ashore or make them turn around?
Aaron’s mind was full and he needed to clear it and get back to work. He would help the other doctors examine those who came from the ferry and then Aaron would retreat to his lab.
That was vital.
He had one job, and one job only, to beat the infection that was ravaging their world. If it was the last thing he ever did, Aaron was determined to accomplish that.
<><><><>
Linda slept a lot. Her head bobbing forward, dozing off into a deep sleep. Each time that she jolted awake, she expected that hours had passed. However, they hadn’t. It was mere minutes. Her suffering was great. Each second the pain seem to linger on and intensify. Her head pounded, her skin burned to the touch, she couldn’t stop shivering, when she wasn’t coughing and hacking, she fought not to vomit. Aware that she had it, she worried about that moment, that single moment when she turned into one of those vile things they were fighting. Linda didn’t want to get to that point. Her fingers pressed against the cold linoleum trying to relieve her aching joints. She was lying there among her own regurgitation. Wanting to cry, wanting to scream out, and feeling sorry for herself. A strong woman she knew was somewhere in her, she could do better than to crumble and succumb to it. She felt pitiful, laying there as if she didn’t have the courage to stand up to it. Again, the more she thought of it, the more she realized this was not who she was.
Her entire adult life was dedicated to the service of her country. Her entire career in the military was being courageous and strong. Yet there she was in the ladies room of a rest area hiding. If Linda didn’t do something soon, she would die. Or at the very least turn into one of those things and no one would remember her for who or what she was. Her legacy would be that of a woman who withered from the fight. It had been awhile, at least in her mind, since she heard any noise outside of the ladies room door. The rest area had been cleared. Linda had to seize the moment to leave. Her car was just outside. She could make it to her car and try to go to the other end of the parking lot and just sit there, or use that pistol under her seat. Either way. Linda was not going to become one of those things.
Gathering every ounce of strength within her, Linda stood and made her way to the sink. She took one look at her reflection. She looked sad and tired. Turning on the water she began to wash her face in her hands, she knew what she had to do. After washing, she moved forward, her balance was off and she swayed making her way to the door. She pulled it open and stepped outside. As she believed, the entire rest area was empty. Reaching, she sought things to hold onto as she made her way to the main door. The doors seemed like a mile away when they were only twenty feet. She staggered her way there, nearly toppling several times before getting her balance. As she grew closer to the double glass doors she could see the reflection of the red and blue lights. Someone did call authorities. They shut the place down. Just before grabbing the doors, Linda took a deep breath and stood up straight,. She was going to walk out of there, head held high. She pushed open the doors ready for anything, even the blast of a gun. What Linda didn’t expect was to walk out the door and immediately be approached by two health workers in hazmat suits. She could hear the click of the respirators and their strength as they took hold of her with firm gentleness. Linda didn’t notice anyone else around, she was too focused on her relief to be out of the restroom. She went with the two medical workers, allowing them to lead her to the back of the van.
“We have you,” the one said.
“It’s alright Colonel,” the other added.
“What do you think?” the first man asked again.
“Not yet a three. Almost at three.”
“Then we know what to do.”
She listened to the back-and-forth conversation between the two health workers. She knew what being a phase three meant, she knew what the course of action was to be taken, because she designed the plan herself.
She didn’t know where she was going, but she knew her fate, she accepted that. She was a soldier for her country and she was a soldier in the current war. She faced a battle. Like many battles there were casualties, and Linda knew it wouldn’t be long before she was one of them.
<><><><>
The infected were so focused on consuming Jason, they never noticed Brady or pursued him. He fled the fourth floor and made it half ways down the staircase to the lobby when he had to stop.
He sat on the steps unable to continue as he broke down. Cub scouts, boy scouts, little dribblers, trick or treating and back yard sleepovers crashed through his mind.
He and Jason had been a duo for as far back as he could remember. Now that tie was severed.
Brady physically felt that.
He couldn’t take too much time, once safe for the evening, he’d take the time he needed to mourn his friend and deal with the grief he knew would stack on with the crushing blow he experienced with his mother.
How was he going to do this? All the video games and movies were like study guides, but none of them dealt with the emotions. How was one supposed to walk away when someone they loved was infected, or killed?
It wasn’t easy.
It was debilitating.
Handicapped by his own broken heart, Brady made his way down to the lobby and his adrenaline kicked in.
He checked the halls before racing out, and ran to the front desk, to the office where he had Bert waiting.
“Bert, we have to go,” he said as he flung open the door.
Bert cocked back, grabbed his chest. “Holy cow, you scared the bajeezes out of me.”
“We have to go, we have to go now. Now.”
“Where’s Jason?”
Brady whimpered slightly and shook his head.
“Oh, son,” Bert stood up. “I’m sorry.”
“We need to leave, Bert. Okay?”
“Yeah, yeah.” He grabbed his rollator.
“The car’s right out front. Those things are here in the hotel.”
“Then we go.”
Hand on Bert’s back, he guided him around the front desk and stopped cold.
Infected surrounded the car.
“Shit.” He inched Bert backward.
“Where are we going?” Bert asked.
“The hall. There was an exit by the
stairs.”
“We still need to get to the car.” Bert inched along with his rollator.
“I’ll get you to that door. I can pull closer to it than to the main entrance. You wait. I’ll go back and lead them away, return and get the car.”
“They’ll go away. They will. At least they did when I was at the home,” Bert said. “They only linger until there is nothing left to look for.”
“Then why are they still here?” Brady asked.
They turned the bend that led passed the ballrooms and to another hall where the exit door was in sight. Just as they moved toward it, from the stairwell, raced infected.
Brady grabbed Bert and spun him around, then nearly pulled him over.
A few feet down that particular hall was a metal door with an employee only sign.
Brady pulled on it. Then as if it were jammed he kicked, banged and pulled some more. “Shit it’s locked.”
“Back to the lobby?” Bert asked.
“Yeah.” Again, Brady pulled on him to move him faster.
“Son, I’m going as fast as I can.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
They didn’t make it far. More infected came around the bend.
“Run,” Bert told him. “Go. Just run. Leave me here.”
“I’m not leaving you.”
“Then they’ll get you. At least if I’m here you have a chance to escape.”
Brady’s mind flashed to Jason. How he inadvertently was a decoy and even if it meant his own life, Brady wasn’t going to do that again. On purpose or not, Bert was not going to be a decoy. He wasn’t going to carry another death in his heart that saved his life.
“Run, goddamn it,” Bert ordered.
A click and squeal of metal, preceded the voice that shouted out. “Here. Hurry.”
Brady turned.
A middle aged black man wearing a blood stained dress shirt, held open the employee only door. “Hurry.”
Brady backed up with Bert just as the infected neared. He threw his hand around Bert’s waist and all but lifted him backwards into the hallway, rollator and all.
Three Miles Out: Book One Page 13
