Zombiewood, page 7
part #1 of Zombiewood Series
Mike checked the sites, his heart sinking as he realized the closest one was Fort Huachuca. Without a vehicle he’d be damned lucky to survive even a three block walk in all the madness.
“How’s that arm looking?” he asked, walking back over to Misty to inspect the damage.
“Not as bad without the blood.”
He washed his hands before turning the faucet off and dried them on a paper towel before dabbing her wound dry. She was right. Without all the blood, it wasn’t as severe as he’d thought. It was mostly just a scratch, but the glass had went in deep in the center of the cut and that was where the majority of the blood had gushed from. It definitely wasn’t a bite mark, which he’d been worried about in the back of his head. Hell, he wouldn’t blame someone for lying about getting bitten if they thought their other option was to face this shit alone, but he would have had to have left her on her own if there was even the slightest imprint of teeth marks on her. The thought of facing what was out there alone reminded him of the man.
“Did you know that man climbing down the balcony?” he asked as he wiped the cut with an alcohol pad. “He looked familiar but I can’t place him. Granted, I think I got a better look at his ass than his face.”
Misty winced as the alcohol hit her wound. “I was too worried about making it out safe to care about who was up above me. Honestly, I was terrified to look up and see one of them climbing down to me.”
“I don’t think they can.” He applied ointment to the cut and started wrapping the bandage around tight. “They don’t really run. It’s more of a shuffle that quickens a bit when they see prey.”
“Prey?”
“Us.” He shrugged. “It’s what we are to them. I found that out pretty quick. The virus does something to their eyes, makes them really cloudy. Cataracts or something. They can see but I’m not sure how well. I think they can hear.”
“Why wouldn’t they be able to see and hear? They’re still people, aren’t they?”
“I don’t think so.” Mike finished bandaging her injury and removed a couple packets of Tylenol before closing the kit. “I hate to say it but I think those things out there really are zombies.”
“Zombies? Like… The Walking Dead? I mean, I called them as much myself, but… Is it possible?”
“Well, this all started with a virus and those infected are dying and getting back up and eating people so yeah, I’d say very much the same thing.” He walked over to the refrigerator and opened the door.
“Is there food?”
“Looks like some leftover pizza, macaroni, some sandwiches, and cupcakes. There’s also this apple juice.” He pulled out the half gallon bottle and grabbed a couple of paper cups by the coffee maker. “We both should take some Tylenol, get a quick bite, and get some rest. Maybe after we’re rested up that group of infected will be gone. Thankfully they don’t seem smart enough to wait outside the door for us. If they were really smart, we’d have heard glass breaking out front not long after we got inside.”
“Thank goodness for dumb zombies,” Misty muttered before ripping open a packet of Tylenol and handing the other one to Mike. She thanked him for the glass of apple juice and downed the two pain tabs before grabbing a cupcake from the refrigerator.
Mike swallowed down the Tylenol and grinned. “That’s your idea of fuel?”
“It’s my idea of comfort food. I definitely need to be comforted now.” She sat at one of the break tables and settled in to view the television which was now just nonstop news programming largely playing videos of different massacres with no new information.
Mike grabbed one of the sandwiches out of the refrigerator, a plain ham and cheese on wheat bread and set it next to her on the table before crossing over to the telephone. He read the sign and scoffed at the posted time limit. He was pretty sure nobody was going to say anything if he went over and knowing his mother, it would take ten minutes just to calm her down after she heard his voice.
He picked up the receiver and dialed the number, thankful he’d memorized it. He couldn’t begin to think of any of his friends’ numbers since he’d just programmed them into his iPhone and had been spoiled by the ease of simply pushing their name to dial.
He braced himself for the inevitable shrieks of surprise and relief followed by worried tears that would assault his ears when his mother answered, but nothing happened. The phone didn’t ring. He hung up and tried again with the same result. Nothing, not even a dial tone.
“Damn it.” He hung the phone up. “This phone doesn’t work.”
“I just saw something on the bottom of the screen about phone and internet outages in some areas.”
“Too many people using them must have overpowered the grid.” He sank down into the chair next to hers and took a bite out of the sandwich. It was bland and fell to his stomach like a block of lead, but he was so hungry he finished it in two more bites before letting out a huge yawn.
“You really need to sleep,” Misty commented.
“Yeah, I was thinking of that tour bus.”
Her eyes widened. “We can lock ourselves in too in case something does get in here.”
He nodded. “I can’t imagine you’re tired though. It’s still pretty early in the day. I’ll go nap. You should be fine but just run to the tour bus if anything happens. I’ll keep it unlocked just in case.”
“No.” She woofed down the last bit of her cupcake before tossing the wrapper in the garbage can and snatching up a stack of magazines from a nearby counter. “I’ll come with you. It’s a tour bus so there might be things to do while you’re sleeping.”
“I really think we’re safe in the museum.”
“I’d feel safer locked inside somewhere and I don’t want to be alone.” She held the magazine protectively to her chest.
“OK.” Mike turned the TV off. “Grab some food if you think you’ll need it, or the juice. I’m going to try and take just a little nap.”
“Get as much rest as you need.” She grabbed the remaining cupcakes and the juice out of the fridge. “If we have to leave here soon who knows where we’ll wind up next and how long it will be. That news footage didn’t give me much confidence.”
Nodding his agreement, Mike walked to the door, and poked his head out, scanning for any danger before he led her out onto the floor. Mike’s conscience niggled at him as they started toward the tour bus and he stopped.
“What is it?” Misty asked, nearly running into him she’d been following so close behind. The fact that her hands were full with cupcakes and magazines was probably the only thing keeping her from digging her nails into his shoulders to feel secure.
“That guy.” Mike turned toward the entrance. “Stay right here. I’m just going to take a look out there and see if he made it.”
“You can’t leave me!”
He looked between her and the lobby he knew was just around the corner up ahead. “Stay with me then and be very quiet. If there’s any of those things hanging around outside we don’t want to attract their attention. We were lucky enough that they didn’t break in here after us.”
“Exactly, which is why we should stay as far away from that lobby as we can, at least a couple more hours.”
“What if it was you stranded out there?”
“What if he’s an awful person? What if he deserves to be out there alone?”
Mike frowned, studying her. Her eyes had suddenly developed a sheen and her voice had gone up an octave. “Why would you think that? Did you talk to the man or see something?”
“I just, I mean…” She shrugged. “I’m just saying don’t risk your life helping someone who might turn out to be a really bad person.”
“Misty… You’d probably be dead right now if I thought like that.” He turned and headed for the lobby, knowing she’d follow behind. She was too scared to do otherwise.
When he reached the corner he’d have to turn to enter the lobby he held his breath and peeked around to the front door, knowing it was all glass and if any infected were out there looking in at that moment they could lose their safe spot. To his relief, he didn’t see anyone at the door.
He quietly tiptoed into the lobby, crouched down and crawled toward the door. Once he’d assured himself there was no one dangerous close enough to see him he put his face to the glass and looked out at the hotel.
A small group of infected, or zombies, as he’d started to think of them, were still outside the hotel entrance just under the bedsheets still hanging from the balcony. The man wasn’t on it or any of the balconies. To his relief, Mike didn’t see any broken, bloody bodies on the ground either. To his dismay he saw a balcony door open and a young girl step out to check the street, going back in after spotting the group of killers on the sidewalk beneath her.
“Hang in there, kid,” he whispered. “Hold on until I figure out how to get to you.”
He heard something to his right and turned to see Misty had wandered over to the gift shop and was stuffing candy into a tote bag bearing the museum logo. He looked back out onto the street, studying the hotel and wondered how many survivors could remain behind all those windows. He remembered Misty telling him she’d heard screaming on the floor after she’d broken into one of the rooms and wondered how many infected people were in there with the survivors. The thought sent a cold chill down his spine which grew downright icy as he recognized the balcony door she’d broken the glass out of and realized it was on the same floor as the room the young girl had stepped out of.
The man in the bathrobe stepped out of the room with the busted door, carefully stepping around broken glass and leaned over the railing. He must have made a sound because the zombies beneath grew agitated and starting reaching up for him.
Mike shook his head. Hopefully the man wouldn’t keep coming out and the infected bunch would leave. Then again, maybe he’d step out the same time as the young girl and then help her. That thought made Mike feel a little better about waiting to attempt a rescue. He was just too exhausted to be much help to them now. He hoped the pain in his side would be completely gone after a good rest and the zombies would move along while he slept.
“Do you see anything?” Misty asked, stepping out of the gift shop. She’d replaced her torn blouse with a black T-shirt featuring Elvis and one of his cars and had traded in her heels for fuzzy slippers that looked like Herbie the Love Bug. The tote appeared to be filled to capacity.
“The man survived. There’s also a young girl in the hotel.”
“With him?” Her eyes widened in shock. She almost looked scared.
“No, another room. If they can just be quiet they should be fine until I can figure out a way to get them out. I need to rest up before I try plotting any escape routes.” He nodded toward her fuzzy slippers as he stood and started across the lobby. “Nice duds.”
“I figured I could probably run faster in these than heels,” she explained as she followed him out of the lobby.
“Until a shard of glass goes through the bottom and slices your foot wide open. We definitely need to find you some good shoes as soon as possible.” He led the way back to where they’d found the tour bus, thankful his wardrobe for the scene he’d been working on had consisted of jeans, a black T-shirt, and black LeBrons. He’d seen a lot of women in heels stumble on their way out of the studio and would be surprised if they’d made it off the backlot.
The tour bus door was open. It looked as if it had been set up so people could actually go inside and look around as part of their museum tour. Mike went in first, checking for any hidden dangers before giving Misty the OK. A living slash kitchen area sat behind the driver’s seat. He saw an entertainment center fully set up with an Xbox and a TV set. Past that was a small bathroom followed by a section with bunk beds, two on each side of the bus, and the very back was a master bedroom with private bath. It took every ounce of willpower and shred of human decency he had to go back to the front and tell Misty it was all right for her to come in before just falling onto the master bed.
“Does the TV work?” she asked, setting her tote on the sofa in front of the entertainment center before plopping down and picking up the remote from the small table in front of her. She pressed a button and the TV came to life, greeting them with more violent images of what was happening to people not lucky enough to be hidden away somewhere secure. “Awesome. It works. I’ll keep it down so you can sleep.”
Mike locked the door, tugging on it to make sure they were safe. “There’s bunk beds and there’s a big bed in the master bedroom. If —”
“Take the master bed.” She waved him away as she kicked off the slippers and settled into the sofa before pulling a candy bar out of the tote. “If I get tired I’ll take one of the bunks.”
Too tired to argue with someone being generous, he nodded his head and left her to the TV and her tote of goodies. Once inside the master bedroom he paused only long enough to close the sliding door, and fell face first onto the bed. He didn’t bother taking his shoes off in case he was awakened by an intruder or some other danger and needed to run.
A hundred thoughts flooded his mind as he lay there. How bad was this thing going to get? Were his parents all right? Where was he going to go? What was the military doing? Why hadn’t he seen any law enforcement whatsoever? How many people had survived the incident at the studio? How long would it be before he could work again? Where did he know the man in the hotel from? Why did Misty seem adamant they shouldn’t help him? Was the little girl still alive? How was he going to help them?
He drifted off on that thought and continued to dream about the people in the hotel, horrible dreams where he saved them only to watch them die right in front of him as he stood helpless to do anything to stop the monsters from eating them alive.
FOUR
“I can’t believe this shit,” Justain muttered as he paced the hotel room floor. He’d tried to get someone on the phone for hours but every time he tried to call from his cell the call would drop immediately before it even rang. Every so often he took a look out the balcony door to see if he could find anyone but all he found were infected people down there making awful noise. He couldn’t tell if it was a moan or more of a growl, maybe a groan. Whatever it was they were doing, it was awful. “Where’s my assistant? Where’s security? I’m firing everybody. Everybody’s fucking fired!”
He was Harry Fucking Justain. How was it possible for him to be stuck in a hotel overrun by the diseased with nothing but his cell phone and a bathrobe with all the people he had at his disposal? Why had no one sent help for him? This was unacceptable and heads would roll once he was back in his office, starting with that piece of ass who’d just run off with the Asian, leaving him.
Did she really think she had any shot at making it in Hollywood now? Once he got through with her, she’d be lucky to get a commercial for herpes medication.
“Maybe they’ll come back.” He shook his head. It didn’t matter. She’d left him. Him! Harry Justain! The audacity!
He sat down on the foot of the bed and watched the silent television. He’d heard screaming on the floor earlier and feared turning up the volume to hear what was being said. From what he could see, the infected savages were causing a lot of damage. The message running along the bottom of the screen kept repeating over and over to stay inside and wait for help. He had yet to see any of that. All he knew was that if he was stuck having to get himself out of the hotel and back to safety, there were a lot of people who were going to need help, starting with the blonde who’d ran out on him and the man who’d helped her.
“Is it over?’ Mateo asked, his voice a shaky whisper, after the gunfire stopped.
“I don’t know,” Ladeja answered, her arms wrapped protectively around the boy like she longed to wrap her arms around her son, but he didn’t want her protection. He’d barely looked at her during the time they’d been locked inside the library waiting for the security team to handle the threat outside. She couldn’t help thinking this could be the last day of their lives and they were going to die with her son hating her, and for what reason? She wasn’t as rich and famous as his father?
“Open the door!”
She jumped at the sound of O’Donnell’s voice but it was Cory who ran across the room to unlock and open the door just as O’Donnell reached it.
“Ladies, it’s not safe here. I need you to hurry and dress in something sensible in case we lose the vehicles and have to run on foot.”
“Where’s Manny?” Ladeja asked, panic making her voice come out much higher pitched than she intended, just as gunfire started up again.
“He’s holding them back but he can’t do it for long.” O’Donnell looked at the Camilleri women who’d had yet to make any effort to move. “I said get your shit! Jeans, sneakers, boots, put something normal on now!”
“Are you serious?” Cynda folded her arms. “There’s a gaping hole in the foyer, the gate is down because the incompetent security team left their posts and you expect us to just leave our home open for invasion? Do you know how many creepy weirdos try to get on our property daily to swipe things? Do you know how much money is sitting here?”
“Fuck it.” O’Donnell threw his hands in the air. “There’s dead people getting up and walking and eating people. I’m not going to argue with you. Ladeja, get the kids and let’s go. You crazy ass celebrity bitches can try your luck with the foggy-eyed demons that’ll be up here in a few. Screw you and this job.”
Ladeja quickly gathered Mateo up and walked over to the door while the Camilleris stood slack-jawed and below them gunfire continued to erupt.
“Hurry them up O’Donnell!” Manny yelled from below. “They’re coming up the stairs!”
“I’m going with them,” Chelle said, rushing across the room and through the door.
