You know how they say that humans have two reactions to a potentially dangerous situation? Fight or flight. So you either try to hit the big bad wolf with whatever is it you're carrying on your person, or you buckle up and run away like a sensible human being.
Elsa thinks that's also bullshit. Whoever said that can kindly go fuck themselves. Those bastards probably never had the bad luck of seeing a human eating another right at the face. When you see something like that, fight or flight is the last thing on your mind, because your brain goes blank and your body shuts the fuck down. Just like that.
They stare in silence and the woman screams and screams, one hand covering her face, the other pounding the man on the chest, thump thump thump. Blood runs through the gap between her fingers like how a trickle runs down the man's chin, and despite the commotion she can hear the crunch of cartilage against the gnash of his teeth, can hear Anna's whimper behind her.
It's odd how she notices these small things, when she can't even move her legs. A part of her says move; you need to save this woman. But another bigger, more selfish part tell her to move, drag Anna away from whatever this monster of a man is and just, just run the fuck away. Please. Those two thoughts run across her mind like two high-pitched siren, and she's frozen with indecision.
She wishes she can say that it takes longer for her to decide, that she'd at least entertained the thought of saving a human life for more than a split second, but truth is, it doesn't. The man's already moved on from the woman's face to her neck. The skin between his teeth goes taut as it's stretched upwards, then snaps and tears. Like rubber. Like a fucked up a foreplay where he's marking her as someone's marked him.
The woman has stopped screaming, hands falling away limply to her sides. Elsa thinks that she might be dead, but the staccato of her quivering fingers against the pavement tells her otherwise. Bile rises in her throat.
She snaps into action. She pulls Anna again, and this time it's much easier since they're both standing and Anna's snapped out of the initial shock, somewhat. She's more worried about the shock that comes after, but that's for later. Now it's just the simple, unadulterated need for flight. To protect Anna.
They sidle sideways, almost crabwalks along the wall, inching farther and farther away from the preoccupied man and his victim. They inch, but they don't run. The man is a wild animal for all they're concerned, and Elsa knows from watching too many sessions of Animal Planet that when faced with a predator, you either play dead or you try to make yourself appear bigger and hopefully scare it off.
Because whatever it is, she's no athlete and she's sure he can outrun them both several times over.
"To the car," she whispers, only glancing at Anna to see if she understands. A small nod indicates she does, and they move again.
Once they're at the intersection, Elsa breaks into a brisk jog, then a run, pace unrelenting until they've reached her parked car a block away. The familiar white of her beaten-up Toyota is a welcome relief, like the startling realisation that even through all the frantic running, Anna's hand is still warm in hers.
There's a fleeting moment where she considers backing up and yanking her hand away, but like the thought of saving the woman, it lingers only for a moment before it's shoved back down into the crevices of her mind where she stores all the broken thoughts and cast-off hopes like pennies in a jar.
"Hey snowflake," she says softly, taking in the chalky complexion of Anna's cheeks, the small, trembling hand in hers. "You okay?"
A moment passes, and Anna finally nods. "…yeah," she says. Unconvincingly, staring down at her shoes like that, looking like she's about to cry or pass out or both.
Elsa moves in and hugs her tight, jutting handbag and all. It goes against every grain of Elsa's logic, but she can't help it, just like how she couldn't help doing what she did to Anna, all those years ago. She strokes and pats Anna's back and whispers soothing nothings, just like she'd always did when they were still. Well. Whole.
Anna's her security blanket, and she's nothing but a failure of a sister.
Anna too wraps her arms around Elsa and nuzzles in deep against the curve below Elsa's collarbone. Anna's bag digs deep into her ribs but she doesn't care. They stand like that for a while before separating after a moment that feels both too long and too short.
"Thanks Els," Anna says, giving her a weak, forced smile. "I needed that. And for dragging me away. If you weren't there I probably would've just stood there in shock and gotten eaten or something. I'm glad you didn't leave me."
And did she actually think that Elsa would leave her?
Elsa voices it out loud, eyes narrowing. "Did you actually think I would leave you?"
That question catches Anna off-guard and she fumbles. "What I—no! I would never in my life think that you'd leave me—"
"Don't bother," Elsa says, cutting her off. She presses the key in her pocket, unlocking the car's doors. "I've been a bitch. I don't blame you for thinking that way."
"Elsaaaa I never thought—"
Whatever Anna wants to say next, Elsa doesn't want to hear it. So she opens the driver's door and slides in, replacing Anna's words with the vacuum silence of her car. She stares straight ahead, hands on the wheel, waiting for Anna to join her.
She does.
Thankfully she doesn't make any attempt to continue the conversation. Once both seatbelts are safely buckled in, Elsa shifts the gear and pushed down at the gas pedal.
"Are we going home?" Anna asks.
"No. We're going to Walmart."
Because she's genre savvy enough to know that this won't be an isolated incident, so naturally the first course of action is supplies. Lots and lots of them.
-x-x-x-x-x-
426.70, according to the receipt.
So that makes it a grand total for 448.80 that she's owing Anna. Will have to dig deep into her bank account, but she'll make sure to pay it off. Stuff it into Anna's bag when she's not looking if need be, judging by how reluctant she was at the café.
With that money they've bought everything they think is essential for survival. Water, non-perishable food, basic survival kit, flashlights, walkie-talkies, a radio, toiletries, a rope, a camping stove, small LPG cans, batteries, light sticks, binoculars, water purification tablets, metal canteens, machetes. They even got some planks and nails, just in case there's a need to barricade Elsa's thin door.
The only thing they couldn't get their hands on is a gun, thanks that New York state's more than stringent gun safety laws. The next best thing being crowbars, they bought a pair and Elsa just wishes Anna will stop playing with it.
"Oops!"
There's a sound of yet another fragile item broken, eliciting yet another cringe from Elsa. Having had enough, she strides towards Anna, catches the crowbar mid-swing and yanks it away. Then she goes to her room and tosses it haphazardly onto her bed near the other one and slams the door shut.
She dusts her palms against each other. "Playtime's over kid; no more crowbars for you."
Anna sticks a tongue out. "Cheapskate."
"Yeah yeah," Elsa says, waving dismissively. She goes back to the couch, taking care not to step on the broken plate, and continues culling through the Google search results for zombie apocalypse 2014 on the news tab.
The couch sags as Anna joins her, sitting way too close to for comfort.
"So found anything?"
Elsa doesn't take her eyes away from the screen as she replies. "Not really. Some blog posts. Lots of ranting about the having to repent for our sins. Lots of articles about Morgan Freeman, strangely."
"Yeaaah, maybe zombie apocalypse 2014 isn't the phrase to use. Try man chewing woman's face New York City instead?"
Elsa gives her a look from the ridiculousness of the phrase, but she supposes that hers isn't exactly better. So she does it anyway, replacing chewing with eating. She hits enter, clicks the first link from Huffington Post.
It takes a while for them to read through the article, but once they're done all they can do is share a speechless look.
"Holy crap," Anna says.
"Wait. One source isn't enough. Let's read more before assuming any opinions."
Like how it's evident with their supplies shopping trip, Elsa is a very, very thorough person. If left to her own devices she'd probably just sit there for hours, pouring through all the relevant information before making any decision, but she doubts Anna is as patient. Deciding not to waste any more time, she closes the tab and goes back to the search results, opening several new tabs for each links in succession. They start reading.
They read and read and watch embedded YouTube links. Thirty-two minutes later Elsa finds herself blowing smoke rings into the air while Anna channel surfs through the TV.
Click.
"At ten AM today—"
Click.
"—two men were found dead-"
Click.
"—repent, all ye sinners! Repent and accept—"
Click.
"—warning issued by the officials—"
Click.
"—stay at home, lock your doors, stock enough beer to keep your husbands happy and off the streets because we're in for the loooooong ride folks!"
Cue fake laughter.
Click.
"Well our phones are ringing off their hooks, Bill. Our viewers seem to be convinced it's the zombie apocalypse coming down at us. As a microbiologist, what's your take on this?"
"The zombie apocalypse? Frankly, John, I find the whole thing quite ridiculous. We all know that zombies are just the concoction of people desperate to escape their trite reality—"
Click.
"There are reports coming in from Indianapolis, Phoenix, Los Angeles, San Fransisco…" A disembodied arm appears on the screen, handing the news anchor a print-out. She takes it, glances through whatever's there and sets it in front of her. "Jacksonville, Columbus, Meca and Atlanta. The Centre for Disease Control and Prevention remains tight-lipped…"
Elsa tunes the TV out. They're all telling what she and Anna already know.
"Pretty serious huh. No I understand why you bought all those items. Thought it was overkill, but hey. Glad we did."
"I am very thorough," Elsa says. If she could pick her own middle name, she'd definitely choose Thorough. It practically already is.
"Think we should move the dining table against the door?"
"Good idea."
She stubs the cigarette and they rise in uniform to walk to the kitchen. Each holding an opposing end of the table, they huffed and grunted and heaved as they lifted (because Elsa has vetoed Anna's suggestion of simply dragging it across, fearing the wrath of her landlord at a ruined carpet) it the few feet it takes to reach the front door through the kitchen.
Finally, after much cursing her penchant for sturdy mahogany furniture, the table is flush against the door, overturned so that its entire surface is blocking half of the wall. Elsa thinks for a moment, then goes back to the kitchen, dragging a chair behind her. She props it against the table and considers it a job well done.
"Yeah, I don't think that's gonna help much," Anna says, clearly unappreciative of her efforts.
"You're welcome to drag the couch over too, but we won't have anywhere to sit and my biceps are about dead already, so you can do it yourself."
"That's what you get for being a shut-in. Skinny arms and all."
"I go out for coffee," Elsa says. She would have the audacity to sound indignant, if she's not slumped at floor, sitting cross-legged besides their pile of supplies. She feels like she's about to keel over and die. "And cigs."
"Which is exactly the problem. That shit kills man."
"As if I don't know that already."
"Uh-huh. So that's why…" Crap. Elsa doesn't like that tone. It always spells trouble when Anna lilts her voice high and puts her hand on her hip like that. "I'm throwing it away."
"What—"
Before Elsa can do anything Anna's already moved to the couch. She takes the cigarette carton off the table, cocks her arm up high and
And throws it out of the fucking window.
What. The. Fuck.
Thoroughly shocked, Elsa can only stare at the remains of its flight, jaw hanging open. "You're littering," is all her mind can muster.
"Yeah. I did. Hope it doesn't hit anyone on the way down - you know what they say about coins killing people from skyscrapers and all. Lucky we're just on the fifth floor huh."
"I don't think. I don't think that's the point."
"I wish we have a treadmill here."
"And I wish I have a monster truck to run you over."
"All that grudge from a pack of cigarettes. Man, you're in deep," Anna says, tut-tuting. A small breeze drafts in from the open window, rifling the lose hair from her braids. She grins. "So, wanna hear my other wish?"
Elsa sighs, rolling her eyes. "You'll say it anyway."
"I wish you'd hug me again." The non-sequitur of that wish catches her off-guard. Way off-guard. Taking the silence as a chance, Anna makes one her dreaded puppy-eyes, pouting as she bats her eyelashes up and down. It might just be the light, but Elsa could've sworn that Anna's eyes are starting to moisten up. Elsa could've sworn Anna majored in Finance, not Melodrama. "Pleeease? You don't want me to have nightmares tonight, do you? I'll probably scream the whole house down and it won't be very pleasant."
Puppy look intensifies.
"I'm not sure how a hug will help."
"It will because you give the best hugs ever, Els. Or…" Anna's grin falters. "Do you really hate me?"
Elsa sighs. Even all this time, Anna still has her wrapped around her pinky and she hates herself for it. But it'll just be for a while, she tells herself. She'll ship Anna off somewhere as soon as possible, and after that her life will be back to being boring and shit and uncomplicated. For now she'll play along, so she crosses the room to where Anna stands and gives her a one-armed hug, patting Anna's back with an awkward gusto.
In return, Anna squeezes her so tight she feels like her ribs are about to break.
"Wow, this hug is really crap," Anna says into her clavicle.
"Hngh," Elsa groans in agreement as her ribs creak. Her patting increases in frequency. "Can't… can't breathe… let… go…"
"Oh. Sorry." Anna's vice hug loosens and air, sweet air rushes back into her lungs. But Anna hasn't let go though, her body still flush against Elsa. "Not letting you go until you give me a proper hug, so try harder."
Elsa does. Try harder that is, wrapping both her arms around Anna in what she thinks constitutes as a proper hug if only to make this ordeal go away as soon as possible. It might be the worst ordeal she's faced in forever because the action means that her groin is pressed onto Anna's lower abdomen and she can smell the shampoo (strawberry, she thinks) wafting from Anna's hair.
And this is why she doesn't want Anna here or anywhere near her life, because all she wants now is to die. Or grind her hips against Anna's taut stomach, or trail kisses down Anna's neck and hear her call Elsa's name and push her onto the couch and take that goddamned skirt off, tear off the white cotton panties, feel the slick warmth, hear the small gasps and muffled moans.
Elsa wants to do all this so, so badly she feels like her knees are about to buckles from the weight of her desire alone. She's the horniest, most fucked up person in town because who the fuck thinks about fucking their own sister after having just watched a woman being eaten alive?
Elsa, that's who.
And despite all this, Anna's still hugging her tight, oblivious to the fantasies playing through Elsa's mind like a shitty 8mm reel. But she can't stop it just as she can't stop the throbbing between her legs by willpower alone, so she decides the best course of action is to shove Anna way.
The girl's eyes widen. "Elsa what—"
Too late. Elsa is already running to the bathroom, having decided to take the longest, coldest shower in her life.
-x-x-x-x-x-
When she's finally properly exorcised, dried and clothed, she goes back to the living room with a towel hanging off her neck to catch the water droplets from her only very briefly dried hair. Anna is munching on a bag of chips, staring at the TV blankly.
"Yo," Elsa says in her most practised casual voice ever. Then cringes inside, because she thought she'd grown out of the yo phase when she was fifteen, but apparently not.
Anna cranes her neck back, then slings her arm over the couch's backrest, looking at Elsa with an eyebrow raised. "Took you long enough."
"I felt dirty from today. Needed to disinfect myself. Thoroughly." It's not a lie. Technically.
"Yeah, I kinda feel dirty myself. Maybe I should disinfect myself too." Wow. This conversation really can go both ways. For her own sake, she hopes not. Anna continues. "You surprised me by running away like that. But then again I should be used to it by now." Ouch. That's a low blow. "So, hot or cold?"
Elsa blinks. "What?"
"The shower. Hot or cold?"
"Scalding hot." Now this, is a big fat lie. "Why would I shower with cold water?"
"Uh-huh, sure," Anna says, munching on another chip. A strange reaction to an answer to a strange question. She can't possibly know, can she? Because Elsa's not sure she has the strength to suffer from this again. "Just making sure you didn't run all the hot water out, that's all."
Apparently not. Thank fucking god, Elsa thinks. She lets out a mental sigh of relief. "Don't worry about that. The tank's big enough for us both."
"Cool."
"Cool," parrots Elsa. She joins Anna at the couch at takes the offered chips, taking a handful before dumping them on her left hand, using it as a makeshift plate. "Anything new?"
"I think it's getting worse.'
She isn't surprised. "Elaborate." There's a moment of silence as Anna mutes the channel, then fiddles with the remote control, turning it this way and that in her hands. "…Anna?"
Anna looks at her, a worry that wasn't there just minutes ago framing her face. "You know how in zombie movies the urban areas are always the crappiest place to stay in?"
Ah. Elsa knows where this is going. "So you think we should leave?"
"I think it's just best to have a head start. There's more reports coming in from the rest of the world, and people have started the looting phase thing. I think we've both watched enough movies to know where this is going."
That's true. Chronic hero mode, complacency and absolutely refusal to accept the truth are what usually kill people in those movies. It's a bit ridiculous that they're talking about zombies like they're not just people slathered in make-up to be watched for a few hours while munching on popcorn but well, they've seen how it goes just this morning, and Elsa is never too entirely grounded in reality to refuse the evidence that the world is indeed at the brink of a zombie apocalypse.
Just like being thorough, she's also very good at self-preservation.
She finishes the last of the chips in her hand and dusts them both together, crumbs falling down to the carpet.
"Okay," she says. "So I'll go camp out in the mountains somewhere, and you'll go to the airport and go back to your—I mean our parents' house. It's out of the way enough you should be fine for a while. Then you guys can build a bunker or whatever."
"Still trying to get rid of me huh?" Anna's smiling, but it doesn't reach her eyes. There's accusation beneath the light hearted tone, and Elsa pretends not to hear.
"Only for your own good."
"Well bad luck," Anna says. "Mom and dad's off in Canada or something, so you're the only person I've got."
Canada huh. Absentee parents. Typical of them. Then she remembers what Anna said this morning. "Wait. Did you tell me you were here because mom wanted to meet me?"
"Nope! I just said she misses you. Didn't say anything about meeting her. That's your own conclusion."
Oh goddamnit. She hates that coy, devilish grin. Walked right into that one.
"Fine. Any friends you can stay with, then?"
Anna pats her on the shoulder and says, "you."
And she can't help but sigh with all she's worth. "I'm your sister, not your friend, Anna. There's a distinction between those two." Also, no friend worth their salt would just throw away a perfectly good pack of cigarettes. Heresy, pure and simple.
"Well, we were best friends before. I can't see why we can't at least try to be one again. Remember when we used to build snowmen together? You named them all after sweets. Marshmallow, Liquorice, Bonbon—"
"You know damned well why we can't," Elsa cuts her off, voice rough. Massaging her temple, she tries to loosen the stiffness of her jaw, only aware she'd been clenching it all through Anna's nostalgia tinged glasses until now.
"And why is that?" Anna says. Calm.
So full of guile Elsa wonders if this is really the grinning girl who had spent her childhood following Elsa around with her oversized pink pyjamas, begging to play in the snow, build snowmen together.
Anna says again, "is it because you want to be more than friends? More than sisters?"
"Fuck you."
"Or fuck me. I saw what that hug did to you. I'm not blind, Elsa."
What the fuck.
"Jesus fucking Christ Anna. Stop it. Please. Why the fuck are you even bringing it up now? As if I don't have enough crap as it is."
"Maybe I'm just tired of you pushing me away," Anna says, shrugging. The lack of change in her expression is disturbing. "Or maybe I just feel like reminding you I'm not the sweet, innocent girl you're still seeing me as. I think you made sure of that."
She did, didn't she.
All the shame and guilt and memories she's been trying to supress all this this time are dredging themselves out from the depth of the murky water that's her mind, as if Anna has cast a net out, singling out all the things Elsa doesn't want and hands it over on a silver platter.
"I'm sorry," Elsa says. As if she hasn't said it over and over again in her dreams, in her waking moments, said it to Anna's naked, crying body. "I'm so, so sorry."
She wants to bury her face in her hands, but Anna's already snatched them away, holding them tight together.
"I forgive you," Anna says. For some goddamned reason she's smiling, and somehow that's worse than the look of disgust Elsa's expecting. "Although I think I've said it waaay too many times already. What can I do to get through that thick skull of yours?"
Nothing. Because she's not ready to be forgiven. Doesn't deserve it, frankly.
"You can't."
"Doesn't stop me from trying. I love you Els. I've never stopped loving you even for a single moment." But not the love Elsa wants, though. Never that. "And I know from this morning that you do too. You would've tried to save the woman if I weren't there, were you?"
"You think too highly of me. I would've done the same regardless if you were there or not. I would've still run away. Self-preservation triumphs everything." Her hand feels clammy in Anna's, like her words.
Anna chuckled indulgently. "Liar. You're a lot of things, but a selfish coward isn't one of them. In fact, you're positively suffering from chronic heroism. You're a goddamned martyr, and that's Dr. Anna Welde's diagnosis and you better accept it."
"I'm just a fucked up idiot."
"Aren't we all?"
"No, not you. You're the most unfucked up person I know."
"Then you don't know me yet. But it's okay, I'll give you a chance to." She darts in, giving Elsa a quick peck on the cheek and finally lets go of Elsa's hands. "So I'm sticking with you. You can camp and snuggle up with bears all you want, but don't ever think you're getting rid of me. Otherwise I'll come back as a zombie and try to eat your brain."
It's an ultimatum, like a royal decree from a queen to her subject. She mulls, trying to come up for any reason to keep Anna away, but everything comes to nothing. She's afraid of herself, what she might do if Anna comes too close and she loses control again, but more than that, more than her self-loathing and disgust, she's afraid of losing Anna, like she almost did today.
Keeping Anna close seems the best way to ensure that doesn't happen.
So reluctantly, very reluctantly, she agrees. "Okay. But please just keep in mind that I—that I might-" she swallows hard. "Hurt you. Again."
"Don't worry; I won't let you." There's no hint of even the slightest hint of concern or distrust in Anna's voice.
Naïve, that's what Anna is. Naïve, foolish, brash, lovable.
She fetches her phone lying on the coffee table and starts scrolling through her contacts list. Kristoff's name appears after a few short swipes. It's not that she has many friends, really. Most of the contacts are takeout places. "All right then. Just give me a moment."
"Who are you calling?"
"Kristoff. He's a friend."
She presses the call icon and waits.
He picks up on the third ring. Prompt as always.
"Hey there Els, long time no hear."
His voice crackles, full of static. Goddamned rural reception. Still, it's nice hearing from him, god knows it's been too long since they've seen each other. No time for pleasantries though, so she goes straight to the point. "Listen, have you heard about what's happening?"
"Yeah – Sven stop chewing on the rug! Sorry, he was – goddamnit boy!" There's a thud and then silence. Elsa waits, tapping her nails against her thigh. "'kay back. Anyway yeah. They're all over the news and people are going pretty crazy with worry. Barricading windows and stuff. Pretty bad there?"
"We saw a woman being attacked today," Elsa says. "Been holed up in my apartment ever since, but I think it's getting worse."
"I can imagine. Cities are like the worst ever to bunker down in during a zombie outbreak – and I can't believe I'm saying this with a straight face, but hey, the internet never lies. You better get your ass over here and help me barricade the fort."
She lets out a small smile. This is why they're such good friends; their minds always seemed to be in sync. "That's what I'm planning to, don't worry. You mind if I bring my sister over?"
"Sure! The more the merrier. About time I meet her anyway. What time you coming?"
"Where are you, again?"
"Cortland County."
"Gimme a sec," she says, then holds her palm above the mouthpiece. "Cortland county. Google maps it."
Anna nods, setting about on the laptop as she loads the direction from their place. "Around three and a half hours," she says, "and that's the shortest route."
"Thanks," she says, then removes her palm. "Give us say, five hours? Assuming nothing goes wrong."
"Cool. I'll still be awake watching amateur shaky cam vids of real life zombies, so just give me a call when you're here."
"Will do. Text me your address too."
"Yep. And be safe, okay?"
"Definitely. See you then."
Elsa hangs up.
"So we're going now?" Anna asks.
"Yeah. Go to my room and pick out the most practical clothes. Change into it and put the rest in the duffel bags. I'll start packing up our supplies."
-x-x-x-x-x-
In the end, it takes them nearly an hour to pack everything up: clothes in the duffel bags, the smaller of the supplies crammed into two oversized hiking packs. The bigger ones, like the water galons are carried by hand to the car.
Five trips back and forth from her apartment to the car.
"Oh finally," Anna says, struggling with slinging the backpack onto her shoulders. She grunts and huffs, and finally Elsa relents and holds the bottom of the pack up as Anna puts her left shoulder into the strap. "Thanks Els. Man, this takes forever. Shouldn't have barricaded the door. Shouldn't have taken the supplies out of the car."
"No use crying over spilled milk. Are we forgetting anything?"
They take another cursory sweep over the apartment.
"Nope. I think we're good," Anna says. She opens the door and holds it for Elsa. "Unless you forgot your wallet again."
"Don't be cheeky." Sliding out after her, Elsa claps her on the shoulder and trudges down the hallway, stopping in front of the elevator.
She reaches forward and is about to press the button down when Anna elbows her. "Hey, do you know that guy?"
"What guy?"
"That guy. The guy staring at us in front of 503."
503. The sweet old couple who regularly shoves apple pies down their neighbours' throat whether they want it or not. Turning around, she finds half of that couple, old Mr. Jones standing still in front of his apartment, looking at them in this odd, empty way.
Thousand yard stare.
"Mr. Jones? Are you all right?" she asks, cautiously. Unconsciously she takes a few steps back, ushering Anna with her.
His arms are hanging limp by his sides and he's still, so very still it's surreal. Elsa doesn't have a good feeling about this, the hair on her neck rising up.
"Help me," he says. Again: "help me."
Anna takes a step forward to do exactly that, but she quickly yanks her back by the strap on the pack. Exactly like this morning. This doesn't bode well.
"Help you with what? What happened?" This time it's Anna, the good Samaritan.
"I killed my wife."
Well crap.
She doesn't know how to process it. Why would he kill his wife? Why is he admitting it to them instead of running away? What does he expect them to do?
"Have you… have you called 911?" Elsa says. Sirens are blaring through her mind.
"I killed my wife. She bit me." And he lifts his right hand up, his cuffs sliding down to reveal a bite mark. "I stabbed her through the heart. But she's still alive. She's eating our dog. Help me."
They give each other a look, understanding dawning. Without another word Elsa mashes the elevator button, and keeps mashing it until it dings and the doors open. Even when they're already inside the doors are closing, they can still see him staring at them, staring and staring until he's finally out of sight and the elevator whizzes down.
They step out into the lobby. Empty besides the lone security guard still reading his newspaper. He looks up from it. "Got everything, Ms. Welde?"
"Yeah," Elsa says. "We'll be going now. And Jose?"
"Yeah?"
"I think you better leave. Go home."
He snorts, turning another page. "Thanks for your concern but I'm all right. Ain't no small accident's gonna cost me my job. Have enough fear mongering nowadays this ain't nothing, probably just gonna pass after tonight, y'know what I mean?"
"Sure," Elsa says. Anna keeps quiet. "Take care, all right?"
"You too, miss."
And with that, they're off, stepping through the lobby's automatic door and into the night. Four hours until she sees Kristoff. She hopes nothing will happen during the journey there.
She hopes Jose's right, and that everything will go back to normal tomorrow.
