by Doug Ward
To our horror, the elevator door began to open once again. The hand, holding the left door, slid down, smearing its after-image. When the opening was fully revealed I saw before me Joe, one of our department heads. A piece of his cheek had been torn away, revealing muscle and some of his jawbone. His eyes were white and lifeless and his mouth worked open and closed as he unsteadily started towards our intern. The volunteer pushed his superior, but the bloody man grabbed ahold of the young man's wrist and dragged him to the opening of the elevator.
As the two men locked in struggle, the other cannibalistic coworkers neared the door. Ned and I each snapped out of our first shock and sped into action. I pulled off my heels as my friend side-kicked the nearest threat. The predator, barely able to walk, flew back, taking two of the others with it. I mirrored his technique, sending mine into the pile. The door warning tone sounded once again and the pair rolled toward each other.
Joe and the intern crashed against the back wall of the elevator and slid to the ground as the doors met and the lift began its ascent. We both spun on the demented attacker who was wrestling with the young man on the floor. Ned and I each grabbed ahold of our crimson-coated boss as the elevator came to a stop. The doors opened on the second floor, revealing a room full of chaos.
The bell rang as Ned and I froze, looking out at the unbelievable scene. Workers fought other workers, some in pants and others in skirts. Screams of pain erupted from all directions at once. People were pleading for help while others cried like children. The air was heavy with the metallic smell of spilled blood. It seemed to cover almost everything. From toppled cubical walls to scattered paper and other debris, nothing seemed untainted by the red liquid.
Although we were witness to the ghastly event, it seemed that no one noticed us. They were all caught in life or death struggles of their own, many rolling on the ground battling one or more gore-covered attackers.
We watched one very thin man, I believe his name was Bert, being taken down by three of the crazed maniacs. He shrieked in defeat as his back hit the carpet. Mercifully, his foes blocked our view of his end.
Ned let go of the man we were holding away from the intern so he could hit the door close button. The doors immediately began to slide closed once again. I pulled a little harder on the back of the boss's stained shirt, but the vicious, life-giving liquid caused my hands to slip. The department head lost interest on the intern's face and turning, bit him on the forearm.
The pinned young man howled in pain as his attacker's mouth tore a large chunk of flesh from his appendage. His skin stretched to its limit before tearing in a jagged line. The beast on top of him seemed to lose focus for a moment, slowly chewing his meal. I seized the opportunity and the back of his wet shirt again. I was able to throw Joe off of the young man by heaving with all of my strength.
The infected man stood and, as the doors met, sounding another chime, he looked back at his last opponent. Then, swallowing, he turned toward me. His milky eyes looking at mine set the hairs on the back of my head on end. I stepped backward against the wall, feeling immediately cornered. The former floor head shadowed my movement and was on me at once. I held him back, pushing with all of my might.
My hands wrapped around his throat, locking my elbows in full extension. His collar was sticky from the partially drying blood. Even though I held him at arm's length, the fetid stench coming from his breath brought on a mouthful of bile.
Even though Joe's movements were slow, his strength remained. If Ned wasn't holding the crazed man's shoulders, I wouldn't have been able to keep him at bay for any amount of time. Even with my coworker's help, Joe was getting closer to me by the second. My arms, now bent, shook with the strain of the struggle. Sensing that his next meal was near, the maniac's stained mouth opened and closed in anticipation. White teeth shone as a large gob of spittle flowed over his lip, hanging like a pendulum and spinning in slow circles. Just as I was about to give in to the pressure, the chime sounded again.
Several hands joined my friend's at the back of my attacker. Our embrace broke as they flung him through the opening and onto the floor. Joe moaned in rage at being denied another bite as my friends pinned him against the carpet.
Ned and I turned our attention to the intern who was holding his wounded arm. Rivulets of his blood dripped on the elevator floor. We each grabbed him under his arms and hoisted him to his feet. The youth was so unsteady he felt like dead weight. We leaned him against the wall beside the elevator and, as the doors started to close, Ned reached around and pushed the black plastic flap, opening the doors once again.
Retrieving a stack of files, he wedged them under the nearest door, holding the flap in, and pressed the emergency stop button. "We don't want that thing going back down and bringing more of them upstairs," he said, answering the unspoken question. "We need to block the stairwell."
I nodded while taking a pull on my inhaler. I was still too winded to respond in any other way. We sprinted to the door leading to the fire escape. Ten feet out, I could see the door beginning to open. Ned must have seen it also, because we both quickened our pace to a sprint. We threw our bodies against the widening gap, reversing its direction and slamming it closed.
Looking around for help, I found that we had become isolated from the rest of the group. As the crazy workers from downstairs shoved hard, having found the push bar, the door inched in. We leaned back with all of our strength and the latch clicked again.
"They must be accidentally hitting the push bar," he reasoned. "I can't believe that they can reason how it works. They seem so oblivious."
"There are too many of them," I breathed between ragged breaths. "We have to block the door somehow."
I could hear change jingling as Ned fished around in his pockets with his back to the door. Retrieving a handful of change, he began shoving groups of the coins into the crack near the latch.
"What are you doing?" I asked, thinking he had gone mad.
"It's an old college trick. If I get enough change tightly in the seam between the door and the jamb, it will hold the door closed. We used to trap freshmen in their dorm room this way. It will hold really well."
When he had finished, we gradually released our pressure, being careful not to trust it too fully at first. Hands continued to assault the portal from the other side, but it remained tightly closed.
"See if you can get some guys to watch the door. I'll stay here to keep an eye on it."
With a last look at the coins in the jamb, I hurried to where I had last seen a cluster of people gathered. I could hear men struggling, and assumed this was a group of men holding Joe down.
I found some people near my cubical. One of the women was on the phone, while the others stood silently waiting.
"No luck," she voiced in a low, disappointed tone. "The line just went dead."
"The whole network is down!" another stated lowering her cell phone from her ear.
"Keep trying!" others encouraged, keeping hope alive.
I recruited two of the bigger men to help with the door and sent another to check on the intern and watch the elevator.
Standing for a moment, I tried to collect myself. Everyone was afraid, but none of them had a clue of what was happening beneath their feet. Just as I was coming to grips with the situation, the man I had sent to the elevator returned.
"There was no one there," he reported.
"What about the doors."
"They were closed," he answered, his eyes shying to the ground.
"Crap!" I screamed in frustration, sprinting to the area to verify his story. Not only had we lost control of the elevator, but my shoes were in there.
The floor indicator illuminated the first floor light. I immediately changed direction, stocking covered feet sliding on the carpet. As my toes gained traction, I sped to the last place I had seen Ned. He was still at the door
speaking with the two men.
"The elevator is on the first floor. We have to stop it," I warned as I slid to a stop.
The four of us returned to the elevator. It was still at the lower level, having not moved. The white-collar workers began kicking cubicles apart and placing them against the door. After a few layers of them they stacked file cabinets, followed by desks.
Our hopes fell as the indicator light changed from the first to the second floor. We began stacking anything we could to add weight to the barrier. Some of the other workers joined us, finishing our defense.
When we completed it, Ned and I decided to survey our situation. The elevator hadn't moved in a while, so with our hastily built barricade in place I once again felt a small amount of relief. Exhausted, but the need of safety outweighed the want for rest.
Leaving a small group to watch the elevator, we wandered about the floor. Some of the men had bound Joe with computer wires. Wrapped securely with the cables winding about him he looked like a mummy, but he still thrashed about, making feints at anyone nearby. The woman from the first-floor had also been bound after biting two other people. Her mouth, covered with blood and she was acting just like Joe. The intern who had been in the elevator with us was nowhere in sight.
Ned gathered everyone who was available so we could tell them what we had seen. Due to the confusion, many didn't even know that we had gone down there at all. The entire group remained totally silent, drinking in all the details of our tale. The information was grim, but they all had a stake in it, so they gave us their undivided attention.
When we had finished, one of the computer techs named John said, "It sounds like a zombie apocalypse." All heads swiveled his way, "You know, Night of the Living Dead?"
The crowd began to murmur among themselves.
Chapter 5
Melissa
Still Yesterday
