ONE. - 1st Friday
I used to love Fridays.
The late-August sky was a deep blue; the setting sun shone though the abstract shaped clouds illuminating the sluggish, slow moving walkers that scoured the dorm parking lot looking for something alive to make into a meal. I watched them shuffle about from the roof of the 13 floor east tower, though the zoom of a cell phone.
It had been two-weeks since the outbreak began. We took refuge in the largest building on campus; it consisted of four 13-floor towers (all named after the 4 cardinal directions) that sat at respective corners connected by a 2-floor complex. I remember hearing that these towers could sustain a power outage for at least a month. The complex housed a dining hall, a small restaurant, a huge kitchen with a massive food storage, some office spaces, and a small recreational facility. Once home to about one thousand students, the eleven of us seemed to be the only one left in a living state.
Chaz's head poked out from the roof access hatch. He was a short, burly, pale, tattooed man in his late 20's; he had a long red beard, and his matching hair slicked back with the sides shaved. He was a motorcycle mechanic by trade and knew his way around an engine.
"It's my shift, Cas. You should head down and get some rest." He said to me completing the ladders ascension, "Plus Carlos and Terrell said they were going to raid the vending machine, so there's probably snacks."
I nodded and handed Chaz an unopened bottle of water the descended the ladder onto the 13th floor. We set up shop here; we used the vacated dorm rooms to rest and wait for instructions, whomever they come. The floor was a square hallway with 11 rooms on the exterior and a community style shower in the center, and there was a small lounge across from the presently nonfunctioning elevators. The roof access hatch was housed in the utility closet, and next to that was a stairwell that led down to the 1st floor of the tower, which happened to be the second floor of the connecting complex; each of the 13 floors looked identical; they were gender specific, this 13th floor housed female students. Over the last few days we checked every floor of the East Tower for supplies and walkers, and labeled the stairwell doors 'DANGER KEEP OUT' if the floor had any walkers on it. We hadn't checked the other towers yet, so we decided to hunker down on the one we knew was least infested; we only had to push three walker down the stairs to secure this floor. Only five of the 11 rooms were unlocked when we got here, the rest we opened with force; they were still decorated and filled with personal things as if the occupants were going to return after class as they had every day. We closely listened at the doors of the locked rooms to hear any potential movements inside; we didn't hear any noise in any of them.
Carlos and Terrell suddenly exploded through the stairwell door, panting, while clutching copious quantities of junk food. They were both frat boys from the same fraternity. Carlos was very chubby with long, neat dreadlocks, and Terrell was tall and super athletic, wearing a short haircut; physically polar opposites. They both were clad in purple fraternity shirts bearing gold Greek letters, only one of the letters I was familiar with. They were both risk-takers, but they seemed to lack a level of common sense; I couldn't tell which one of them was the denser individual.
"Mr. C.! We got some grub!" Carlos said handing over a bag of chili cheese Fritos.
"How was the ground floor?" I asked them as I gladly accepted the bag of corn chips.
"It was clear until Carlos' fat-ass knocked over the vending machine," Terrell said dropping his assorted snack foods on a nearby table, "The Zs started coming out of the offices when they heard the machine fall."
"How many?"
"More than 50. They didn't stop comin', and we didn't stay to keep countin'."
Carlos was eating a vending machine sandwich that I could tell was past its prime.
"We need to check again when it quiets down, down there. If there's an opening to the outside we should probably figure out how to seal it up, or escape from it."
"Roger, Mr. C., you can count on us! We got this!" Terrell said as he slammed a bag of off-brand chips down his throat.
I grabbed a pack of Hostess Cupcakes, and headed down the hallway. Two doors down, I spotted Felicia sitting on a bed vigorously rubbing her temples with both hands. She was bare foot; her toe and finger nails had remnants of maroon polish, her hazel eyes were bloodshot and her very curly, brown, shoulder length hair was concealing her face. She was wearing a gray tank-top with the school logo a bit distorted by her large breasts. Her very curvy hips were covered by spandex shorts that had to be holding on for dear life, her long, toned, medium-brown legs were pressed together tightly at the knee. I stood in the threshold and leaned against the doorway.
"You alright, Felicia?"
She stopped rubbing her temples and glared up at me as if the answer was obvious.
"What do you think, Mr. C.?" She ran her fingers through her hair to clear her face, "At least I don't have to worry about your 10-page research study that your graced us with on the first day of class."
Felicia Mathieu was a student of my Communications class, I was also her academic advisor. She was a junior from Lafayette, Louisiana, and had a very thick Cajun accent when she wasn't trying to mask it.
"I don't think there will be any assignments due in a while." I chuckled.
"Why is this happening? Like, what did we do to deserve this?" She looked around the room and fixated on a picture of a girl with an older lady that resembled the younger.
"All we can do right now is do what we can to survive. I'm sure we will hear something soon."
"Worrying ain't gonna change anything, is it?" She said unpinning the picture from the cork board.
"We are human, worrying happens, let's just figure out something to keep you mind focused." I shook the package of Cupcakes in her face, she shot me a false smirk and took the sweet parcel.
Felicia shared her acquired room with another student of mine, named Amina. At the time, she was nowhere in sight.
I could hear the faint sound of retching coming from the bathroom. I turned the corner to see Amina sprawled out in front of the toilet; her hair was pulled back into a messy black ponytail, in the sort of make-shift fashion after a night of drinking too much. She was tiny, around five feet three inches and had a small athletic frame. She was Bosnian and had an accent. Her red, square-framed glasses sat open around her thigh. She wore black jogging pants that were rolled up to the knees, if they were un-bunched they would have read the name of the school. I handed her a bottle of water a laid a towel over her shoulder.
She nodded.
As I cut through the bathroom, I could hear a radio broadcast coming from the lounge. Dr. Cranston stood gazing out of the window listening intently with crossed arms, inquisitively rubbing his white goatee. Dr. Cranston was a professor in the biology department. He had a long tenure and was very close to retiring. He was a tall man, about six-feet and maybe an inch. His brushed back curly hair was white and short. You could tell he'd been wearing the same clothes for a while; his once white buttoned shirt was stained from sweat and loose at the collar like he'd thrown off his tie after a long day's work.
"Anything new?" I asked while I fiddled with the radio antenna.
"Just the same," His gaze didn't break, "Remain indoors…approach with caution… listen for instructions…" Dr. Cranston mimicked the woman speaking over the airwaves.
I returned to the hall, heading in the direction of my room, I could hear a pair of giggly voices. I stood in hall outside an open door. Zack and Kasey sat on a bed French-kissing; Kasey one hand up the leg of Zack's basketball shorts.
I cleared my throat loudly.
"Why are you watching us, you perv." Kasey said as she raised her unclothed bottom half from the bed and shut the door.
A lock and a giggle followed the slam.
Zack was the starting Quarterback for the football team. He had recently rehabbed his knee due to a torn anterior cruciate ligament. He was a strikingly handsome, tall, athletic guy, with dirty blonde gelled-back hair. On his right knee, he wore an almost robotic knee brace that stretched from his mid-thigh to mid-shin. The sorority girl with no pants was his girlfriend; she had long, straight hair, and was very tall around five foot eleven or so, and very slim. Her skin was unnaturally tanned and her hair was unnaturally blonde. Even in all of the madness, she somehow found a way to apply generous amounts of makeup. They both seemed carefree about the current state of society, or maybe it didn't sink into them yet.
Lastly, there were Rucker and the woman whose assumed name was, Coffee. Hopefully those were their last names. We hadn't heard much from Coffee, but she was the one that got us to safety, well, for the time being. Rucker was a well-toned, athletic man, of average height. He was fair-skinned and bald, and had a goatee. Rucker was a nursing slash pre-med student, and served in the Navy reserves. It seems as if he and Coffee knew each other well, they'd converse, albeit quietly; they didn't say much else to the rest of us. Coffee looked to have some Hispanic descent. She had long dark hair that was wrapped in a neat top bun and small sections of hair cascaded her strong jaw line. Her nose had a small hump along the bridge as if she'd once broken her nose; the corners of her lips curled downward giving the appearance of a scowl. Her body was lean and athletic; she wore dark jeans and brown, stylish, combat boots. Up top, she wore white tank top that was now stained from sweat and blood. The only thing we knew about her was that she served a few tours in the middle-east and was working in the Office of Veteran Services, as a student recruiter.
Oh, and myself. My name is William Caspian, but everyone calls me Cas. I just recently moved to Georgia from California at the beginning of the summer. I got a job at the University as an Associate Professor of Communications studies. I played football back home, most of the people I met could tell, I have a large frame and I'm six feet one inch. My father was from one of the Polynesian islands, my mother didn't know which one though. We never got to ask him, he was deported shortly after they had met, all she knew was his name and that he was carpenter. Of course she never told me about the absurd amount of drinks that led to me, but I'd heard the stories.
The room I claimed was at the far end of the hall, opposite the lounge and elevator. It appeared to be unoccupied as there were nothing in the room except the two twin beds and assorted dorm furniture. I rustled up some pillows and blankets from some of the other rooms; I didn't really care that they were pink and purple tie-dye, not in a time like this. When we first arrived here, the room next to mine was occupied with a very large couple that had succumbed to the outbreak. We lured them to the stairwell and pushed both of them down; there rotting bodies still lie there, motionless. We pushed them to the side so that we could traverse the stairs freely. In that room there was a mini fridge with a built on microwave, well, it was actually a lot larger than most dorm mini fridges. It was chock full of pizza rolls and T.V. dinners. As well as can after can of sodas. There were enough snacks to last months if rationed properly.
I couldn't see much through the room's single window. The sun had finally set and the safety lights activated. From the angle, I could barely make out the parking lot; there were still tons of silhouettes shuffling around under the light's orange tint. I could see Chaz exiting the closet with the ladder as Coffee switched out the post. Carlos and Terrell could be heard talking about what they were going to do once they got out; every now and then they'd make a derogatory remark and cackle. Kasey's faint mmm's and giggles would have went unnoticed if Dr. Cranston hadn't shut the door and block out the only sound we had from the radio. Amina finally staggered back into her room and closed the door.
The door briefly opened and closed again. Felicia had stepped out. Her features were barely visible in the low light.
"Mr. Cas, are you awake?"
"I am." She leaned her hips upon the opposite twin bed.
I turned on a small camping lantern we'd found in a room. She looked even more worried than she had before. I figured she came to vent.
"Amina stinks." She flashed a quick nervous grin that instantly returned to emotionless.
"I didn't expect that." I let out a hearty chuckle.
"We have running water she needs to use it!" The quick gin returned and left.
"Well how about we grab her, spray her with the tons of body wash we found, and throw her into the shower."
Felicia smiled.
"Please do. She smells like puke and…I can't sleep in there."
"We have to keep you students together. We have a responsibility to keep you all safe and there is safety in numbers," I sat up so that I could meet her at eye level, "Trust me, I am here to help."
She starred into my eyes with a look that I couldn't decipher.
That moment felt familiar; déjà vu. Then I remembered. She'd looked at me like this once before; when we first met. She came into my office on the first day of classes to meet me, as her last advisor had retired. She wanted to know how I was, and compare her relationship with my predecessor to that we would form. I remember telling her a lot about myself, and she reciprocated. She joked about how I was very attractive to her and that out 9 year difference could be overlooked. She flirted with me; always making sure her curves were accentuated with her every move. I noticed. She was a very attractive young woman, but I couldn't risk my job. We spoke about what she could use her degree for, and we ended the conversation that same way; the same words, and the same gaze. I broke it by extending my hand. This time was different; it had already advanced to an embrace. She stood between my legs and pressed her body against mine, squeezing me tightly around the waist. My outstretched hands nervously shook behind her as one part of me wanted to return the embrace, but the other part found it too risqué. Her breath breezed across my neck with every exhale; I liked it, but it felt wrong.
Before I could choose my next move, a loud but muffled crash bellowed through the floor followed by a scream of terror.
"What in the Hell was that?!" I grasped Felicia's shoulders and jolted her away.
She looked frightened.
Rucker shouted to check everyone's safety. It wasn't anyone in our group. He then sprinted into the room.
"Cas did you hear that?" He looked concerned.
"I did. It sounded like it came from below us."