After Life (7 page)

Chapter 10: We Go, We Shoot, We Leave

“They still out there?” Donnie asked, shaking as he knelt against the wall. “Haven’t heard any gunshots in a while.”

“Nope,” said Calvin McRell from his spot by the door, peering through the small crack. “They took off. Heard one of them mention going for a jog. Gotta keep in shape.” He turned to Donnie and scowled.

Twenty-some years ago, Calvin had been at the head of his class at Annapolis. Before 2010, he had been well on his way to a high-ranking naval career. These days, he still wore his blond hair close to his head, still had his clothes pressed every day, still had the ripped physique that came from strenuous daily workouts. Michelle knew all this because Calvin never missed the opportunity to tell of his exploits.

Now, she sat at his desk, spinning around slowly in the chair. The room was just like the office Michelle had come from — Madison’s office. Everything was reversed, so that the door to the outside and the door to the inner office were opposite of where Michelle was used to them, and there was an extra desk and chair in a corner, less of a feminine touch to the décor, but constructed identically. Michelle always wondered how Donnie and Cal got any work done. With their contrasting personalities, she was glad she didn’t spend any more time with the two of them together than she did. “Take it easy,” she said without looking up.

Calvin laughed. “Yeah, take it easy,” he said. “We’ll just kick it here. Never mind that the food stores aren’t in
this
room, because this place was supposed to be the last safe place, right? So we’ve got, what, a pot of coffee and a can of sugar. Yep, let’s take it easy. No worries.” He closed the door as quietly as he could. His hands on his head, he walked away from the others, facing the wall.

“I didn’t say ‘Relax,’” Michelle said, stopping the spinning. “I said take it easy. We don’t need the sarcasm. It doesn’t exactly help.”

“Got a better idea?” Calvin said.

“What idea? We go, we shoot, we leave. Find a place to hole up. 2010.”

Calvin spat on the floor. “Brilliant.”             

“
You
got a better idea?” Michelle asked. With Calvin’s silence, she pulled her pistol from her holster. From across the room, Donnie stood up and copied her motion.

“She’s right, Cal,” he said.

“No shit,” Calvin responded, rolling his eyes. He nodded and pulled out his own gun, but didn’t move toward the door.

Michelle looked from Calvin to Donnie. Neither looked likely to make a move, so she headed for the door. Donnie immediately fell in step behind her.

She stopped at the door and checked her clip. It was full. She looked back at her two companions, but neither met her gaze.

Michelle reached for the door handle, almost pulling her hand back. She thought the metal handle felt hot to the touch, almost as though there were a fire outside.

“You gonna go?” Calvin asked. Michelle thought she could hear his voice shake as he asked, but it was still all the encouragement she needed. She pulled the handle down and threw the door open, almost smacking Donnie in the face as she did.

In the hall, there were a handful of zombies. One of them, the one closest to the office, had clearly been no older than 13 or 14. She was the only one out there that Michelle didn’t recognize. The others all seemed to be coworkers or other facility regulars. They all turned at the sound of the door opening. Michelle assumed that an early-arriving zombie had gotten down there and infected the coworkers. The little girl, though, was a mystery. Michelle paused, wondering how a child had gotten in.

The zombies didn’t pause. The little one turned toward Michelle. Instinctively, she flinched. It had been twenty years since Michelle had seen those black-and-white eyes, but she hadn’t seen enough of them the first time around to ever get used to it. She also figured there was no number she could have seen to ever get used to that sight.

And the smell. Michelle had first noticed the smell while they sat in the office. It horrified her. The odor reeked of a combination of body odor and decay, and the only time she had ever smelled it was during the events of 2010. Somehow, that was the first thing she had noticed, even through the door, even though the zombies had only been back for a matter of minutes. Opening the door stung her nose as the smell flooded in.

The young zombie, with no noticeable injuries but streaks of blood streaming from each side of its mouth, sprinted toward the three of them in the doorway, jaws snapping. Michelle tried to force herself to pull the trigger on her gun, but nothing happened. When the creature was within only a few feet of the doorway, she heard a shot from just behind and to her right, and the small zombie went down.

A small glance behind her revealed to Michelle that Donnie had been the one to fire the shot. He stood with his gun still held out and his mouth open.

The shooting, though, kicked Michelle awake. She finally aimed her own weapon and felled the next three zombies that had started to head their direction. Seconds later, Calvin joined in, and the two of them progressed down the hallway shooting. Donnie followed behind, though Michelle noticed his gun never fired again. By the time they reached the T-junction, the hallway was devoid of any signs of the undead.

Michelle took a left at the junction. Donnie paused, but followed her.

“Geniuses,” Calvin called after them. “Where the hell are you going? Out is
that
way.” He stopped outside the men’s room door and gestured to the right and the stairwell that would take them outside.

“Madison,” Michelle said. “In her office. Lambert, too, unless he’s dead already.”

“The hell they are,” Calvin said. “If they’re still in there, they’re dead. If they’re alive, sure as shit they’ve left by now.”

Michelle stopped and looked at him. “Fine,” she said. “Then I’m heading to the storeroom to stock up on food. Want something to take with us. That a better answer?”

“Hell no,” Calvin said. “I’ll find food as I go. I’ll end up somewhere with food. Not sure if you know, babe, but there’s no locks on that storeroom door. Means we were supposed to lock down the whole goddamn facility, and we already failed at that one. Means we can get all the food we want, but we gotta be able to carry it. I already
ate
my lunch. I’m leaving. And you two are coming.”

Michelle and Calvin stared at one another. She broke the eye contact first. “Sorry, Calvin,” she said. “I have to see if they’re there.” She started walking again, turning her back to Calvin. Donnie followed, right on her heels.

“You two are crazy!” Calvin called after them, almost laughing. “You’re gonna fucking die just so you can see an empty room or a pair of bodies.”

Michelle glanced out of the corner of her eyes at Donnie, who had turned to look back at Calvin, and Michelle saw his eyes open wide. “Look out!” he cried.

Michelle spun around too, just in time to see a female zombie — Jeanine Malloy had once been its name — bite into Calvin’s neck. It had come from the restroom behind him. He never had a chance.

Both Michelle and Donnie raised their guns, but Calvin pushed the zombie back into the restroom, and he followed. Seconds later, they heard a gunshot, and Calvin stepped back out. “Go!” he called.

Donnie followed his order and continued toward Madison’s office. Michelle had no such intentions. She took two steps toward Calvin, her gun still raised. Before she could do anything, though, he lifted his own gun and fired into his temple.

Michelle watched him fall. Tears in her eyes, she turned and ran after Donnie. The stench at that end of the hallway was almost unbearable, and her eyes stung just being there. When they reached the office, she pushed at the door. It was unlocked, but there was something blocking the door. She could only open it about four inches.

Michelle pushed and felt the door give another inch or so. Donnie stepped up to help, and together the two of them pushed the door all the way open.

Chapter 11: Bites, Scratches

Andy came across some bodies on the eighth-floor landing. The history wasn’t hard to determine. The first, the body of an older man, maybe 60, lay face-up, with a bullet hole through its forehead, blood smeared through its beard, and a bloody mark on its right leg. The second, a few feet away, was another man, maybe 20 years his junior. He had bloody marks around his shoulder and a hole in his temple that must have come from the weapon still in his hand. Several feet away was a younger body, one of the students, with blood around its mouth and a bullet hole in the neck, but it was still twitching in its death throes. Andy ended its existence with another gunshot that he thought merciful.

Other than that group, Andy and the girls hadn’t seen any bodies — living, dead or otherwise — since entering the building. Celia had gasped when they first caught sight of the landing, but Stacy had walked right past. Andy tucked his gun back into its holster and walked over to the younger man’s body.

“Daddy, what are you doing?” Celia asked.

Andy didn’t answer. He knelt down over the man’s body, lifted the man’s arm and removed the weapon from his hand.

“Daddy?” Celia repeated.             

He looked up at her. The gun he had just picked up felt heavier than his, but after a glance, he saw they used the same ammunition. He pulled his weapon back out and passed it to his daughter. “You need a gun,” he said.

Celia looked at the weapon for a moment with a scared look, but took it at last.

“All right,” he said, standing up. “Keep going.”

They made it the rest of the way down to the ground level without incident. Andy stopped the girls just inside the door, wanting to check the outside world for himself first. He peered out the door’s small window.

Outside, Andy saw the chaos he expected. There were bodies scattered around, and several of the survivors — mostly the kids, the students — were crying or had gone catatonic. One of the first things he saw was a girl who sat motionless as a zombie ran up to her. She made no effort to fight it as it tore into her skin, barely even crying out at the bites. A few feet away, he saw a broken zombie flailing around. It had two obviously broken legs and probably a broken arm as well, and was dragging itself along by its one intact limb, dragging itself toward the catatonic girl and her attacker. Andy recognized it as the first zombie they had seen — the one that had plunged out the girls’ window.

In the center of the three buildings, though, Andy saw exactly what he had hoped for — order. Just outside the tiny outbuilding that marked the passage to the classroom, and safety, Roger Stone stood sentry, herding unbitten people down the stairs, while Simon held the gun high. Andy saw the boy take three shots, hitting his mark with two.

“The classroom,” he said to the girls. “All we have to do is make it about twenty feet and we’re safe. You can do this.” He looked back. Both girls were nodding, though he could see the nerves behind the nods.

He pulled the door open and the three of them took off on a sprint. He fired a shot to their right — one that was probably unnecessary, given the distance of the zombie, but Andy was taking no chances with his daughter.

He was the first to arrive to Roger, Simon and the building.

“Bites, scratches?” Roger said.

“Nothing, nothing,” Stacy said, breathless.

Roger eyed them suspiciously, and looked like he wanted further proof. Instead of asking for a strip search, though, he looked up and met Andy’s eye. Andy nodded, and Roger returned it. “Go on in,” he said.

Celia started to make her way into the building, but she saw out of the corner of her eye a young man step out of the boys’ dorm. It was the sunglasses wearer, the zombie-lover, and he ran out and swiveled his head with what looked to Celia like desperation. He bore no signs of injury. A few feet behind him, she saw another figure. This one was obviously a zombie, and it was running straight for the young man. Celia tried to wave her arms, to warn him, but she was too late.

The running zombie, though, didn’t bite the sunglasses kid. It didn’t even acknowledge him. Instead it ran right by, merely running into his side as it did.

The collision knocked the sunglasses off of the kid’s face, and they fell to the ground. As they did, Celia saw his eyes — they were not the sunken, almost black dots she had seen when he had removed his sunglasses in the classroom; they were the horrifying, black-and-white orbs that she could already tell would haunt her dreams.

She stopped still, staring at what she had, only seconds before, thought was a fellow student. There weren’t even any bite marks. Finally, she felt Stacy tugging at her elbow, and Celia realized where she was and entered the stairs.

Celia ran down the stairs as quickly as she could. As she got to the bottom of the stairs, she realized the only steps she could hear behind her were Stacy’s, so she turned to look. Her father was sharing a couple words with Roger Stone at the top of the staircase. She saw Roger shake his head about something, and her father nodded and came in after her. He stopped at the top. Behind him, Celia saw another man run up to Roger, who crossed his arms. The man looked at him pleadingly, but finally nodded and unfastened his pants.

Andy, meanwhile, was fiddling with the tiny phone at the top of the stairs that they had looked at earlier. Celia could see he was getting frustrated with it, and he finally gave up whatever he was doing and slammed it down on the cradle.

He came down the stairs, and Celia continued on her way into the classroom.

It was nowhere near as full as it had been during the orientation less than an hour earlier — there were fewer than 50 people there. But it was exponentially louder, as students and parents alike cried and commiserated. Andy strode past Celia, leading the way to the front of the room. She watched as he scouted them a space against the wall, far from any door. It was a spot below the corner where the chalkboard met wall. He leaned heavily against the wall below the board, then slid down it until he was in a seated position. She and Stacy joined him in the corner.

“What now, Daddy?” Celia asked, sitting next to him.

He looked at her, seeming almost surprised. Celia had never seen her father as take-charge as he had been in the dormitories, but now he looked as nervous as he had in the car on the way to Hyannis.

He looked at her for a moment, but finally smiled. “Nothing,” he said, reaching up with his right hand and rubbing her head. “We’re fine now. They built this place to keep us safe in the event something like —” he gestured toward the stairwell they had come from, “—
this
happened. Again. We’re fine. This isn’t going to be like me, and Carl, and Mike before. We can stay here as long as we need to.”

Celia watched him as he spoke, and felt herself almost relaxing. He was right — Mr. Lowensen had told her earlier that the classroom was fortified, that they could stay down there for a long time if need be. It was reassuring, to be sure.

“What about the phone you tried?” Stacy asked. “I saw you try to call out.”

Andy shook his head. “Dead,” he said, then winced at his choice of words. “Couldn’t call out. Didn’t seem like it was even hooked up yet. Guess that system wasn’t actually planned to be operational ’til school started. Or maybe they’ve already shut it down. Either way, I couldn’t reach anyone. For better or worse.”

From the stairwell, Celia heard the heavy door to the outside world close. She hadn’t seen anyone else enter since they had — not even the man who had unfastened his pants — but she watched with interest as Roger and Simon Stone came into the room without any accompaniment. Roger scanned the room for a second, saw them in their corner and quickly joined them, Simon his miniature right behind him. The young man looked shaken.

“I think we did all we could,” Roger said as he got over to them. “I didn’t see anyone else healthy after you three, and they were starting to overwhelm us.”

Andy nodded. “You did well, Roger,” he said. Then he squinted, remembering. “What about the last man? The one after us?”

Roger shook his head. Simon suddenly walked away, against a curtained wall, and appeared to start crying. “Bitten,” Roger said. “Ankle. Tried to keep it covered up. When I called him on it, son of a bitch drew his gun.”

Andy almost spat. “Damned fool. He’d have killed us all. You drew first?”

Roger shook his head again and cast a glance at his son. “Simon. I was not prepared for that. One of the kids, I might have understood — they might not know. That guy was in his 50s. He knew. He knew exactly what he was doing. So I didn’t have my weapon ready. But Simon saw what was happening and brought him down.” As Roger described what had happened, Simon nearly doubled over in the corner. Celia thought he might throw up, but the boy soon stood back up and walked back over next to his father.

Gradually, the room got quieter, as everyone calmed down and settled in for what they assumed was a long wait. Celia slunk down even farther in against the wall, resting her head on her father’s chest. Stacy paced back and forth in front of them, her arms crossed across her midsection as though she was worried she might vomit, while Simon and Roger both leaned against Mr. Lowensen’s desk a few feet away. Andy absent-mindedly stroked his daughter’s hair as they sat there in silence.

Celia closed her eyes, shocked at how tired she was. She was asleep in minutes.