Chapter Two
The Trap
It was sunset by the time I woke from my restless sleep, still lying flat on my front. Night would be falling soon. I could tell by the direction and color of the fading light streaming through the window. My entire body was stiff and unrelenting, and the various wounds I had procured the night before felt like they were on fire. I ignored the aching and burning and propped myself up on my elbows, looking around with exhausted eyes.
The bedroom was as it had been the last time I had been conscious. The chest of drawers I had upended as a makeshift barricade lay haphazardly against the door, and it was only then that I noticed that I had also dislodged various picture frames, books, and other items that had been sitting on top of it. They lay scattered on the floor, the lifeless faces of the photographs smiling and laughing up at the ceiling through shattered glass. The family and friends of the dead body I had seen the night before.
Looking down at pictures, I should have felt sadness. But for some reason, I felt nothing but anger. I shouldn't be here, intruding on the privacy of the dead. I should be tucked away in a safe house, surrounded by my own friends and makeshift family. I should be planning our next move, weighing our options, trying to find a way get out of the city, away from this whole stupid mess, or just simply figure out how to survive long enough to make it all matter.
Anger washed through my system like fire. I shoved off the bed into a standing position, only to collapse to the floor as soon as my legs realized that they couldn't support my weight. Choking on a mix of emotions, I tried again, only to fall back in frustrated fury.
"I'm not going to die here!" I raged to empty air, as if speaking the idea would make it true. But I knew the reality. Even though the safe house was only a few buildings away, I would never be able to make it in my current condition, and even though a selfish part of me said otherwise, I did not want my friends risking their lives to try to save someone who would only be dead weight.
I was exhausted, injured, and hungry with no possible way I could see of relieving my situation.
Besides death.
"I'm going to make it out of this alive," I said aloud, but unlike my outburst moments before, my voice was now a whisper.
A tear trickled down my cheek. I wiped it away in irritation before the retreat of my anger, just as sudden as it had appeared, drained my energy and I flopped back onto the carpet, staring up at the ceiling with half-lidded eyes. My backpack dug into my back, but I had no strength left to resituate let alone remove the problem.
"First sign of insanity, talking to yourself," I murmured, turning my head to the side and closing my eyes.
It was dark by the time I woke up next, this time lying on my side, my own subconscious finding the strength in my sleep to relieve the discomfort of the pack poking into my spine. For a few minutes I lay there, breathing deeply and staring into the darkness, my entire body aching with pain. The only light came from the moonlight streaming in through the window. I felt even weaker than the last time I had been awake. It panicked me for a moment, but it was an emotion that was quickly stifled by a return of my determination and resolve. No, I was not going to despair. There was still life left in me, and as cliché as it was, where there was life, there was always hope.
Unless it was Infected life. Then there was just a problem.
Movement at the window caught my well-experienced gaze. The light filtering in was smoothly interrupted. I snapped to attention, shooting up into a sitting position. I glared out the glass in a mixture of fear, hope, and the echoing anger that still edged my mind.
It took me half a heartbeat to recognize the silhouette as the one I had seen the night before, and half a beat more for the foolish fear and hope to die away. My gaze snapped around for one of my weapons. But they were not there.
After a moment of forced memory, I groaned, slapping my palms into my forehead. I had left my AK-47 in the next room. The katana must have fallen out there as well. Maybe even on the balcony outside the smashed window. I had no other weapons with me save for my own body, and I had a feeling that wasn't going to quite cut it in the event of an attack.
I scowled at the hooded figure at the window. The Infected sat there motionlessly, watching with its shadowed gaze. It made me feel like an animal in a cage.
It was not a good feeling.
Looking down, I spotted one of the shattered picture frames lying close by my hand. I snatched it up and launched it at the glass. Despite my weak throw, the object hit the pane with a dull crash, landing squarely where the shadowed face had been only moments before. It filled me with a hollow victory that was short lived. The creature would be back before long.
I turned my attention to the blocked door, debating on if it would be worth the risk to try moving the blockade and retrieve my weapons and whatever else I could find. But there were several problems with that plan. First, I doubted that I had the strength to even stand let alone shift aside a wooden dresser. Second, the thought of the rotting body next door unsettled me, which was silly considering how slicing through Infected and stepping in fresh remains had hardly fazed me the night before. Third, my memories reminded me that the window in that part of the apartment was wide open. If my stalker was still around, it would be able to get into the apartment. Perhaps it was already inside, in which case I would be finished before I even got my hands around a trigger.
Would the Infected be determined enough to find a way in to get at me? All that stood between me and a gruesome death was a window and a bedroom door, hardly much of a defense as I had proven the window to be easily breakable. I'd seen other Infected bust through more menacing barricades.
Nervous and anxious now, I turned to the rest of my surroundings, my thoughts keeping me conscious and the pain at bay for the time being. I was fairly sure that I was trapped here. There was nothing I could see that could help me. There was a small bathroom behind me, but from what I had experienced in other parts of the city, the power was down so the uses for that particular facility would be slim. Past that, the bedroom was the same as any other bedroom—a bed, a closet, a nightstand, the chest of drawers…nothing too useful, although I would have to search through everything just to make sure.
I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees and rubbing my face with my hands. The exhaustion was threatening to claim me again. If I didn't find some help, the times I would continue waking up were numbered. I went to lay back down again when I sat back up with a jolt. My backpack!
I had completely forgotten about it. Eager, I ripped it off my shoulders, tearing at the zipper with shaking fingers and dumping the contents onto the floor. The sight of it scared up a bark of a laugh in relief. Out of caution, I had stuffed it with what supplies I could while still keeping it light enough to not be a hindrance. There were a handful of nutrition bars and various packages of dried food that we had found in the last safe house, a small bottle of water, a kit I used to clean the katana, and a first aid pack. There were also some ammo clips in the front pockets, but little good would they do me without the gun.
Didn't matter right then. I attacked the food and water, not even caring to worry about rationing it. Chances were, I would only have one shot at escaping from this place, and I would have to do it soon if I wanted any chance of meeting up with the rest of my group. We had agreed that we would only remain in a safe house for twenty-four hours. Once that time had passed, the group would have to move on, with or without a member. For all I knew, they had already left and I would have a job of catching up. If I survived long enough to do so. I needed all the strength I could get.
With food in my stomach and my hunger and thirst relieved, the higher functions of my brain kicked up again. I poked at the rest of the food, thinking. I had been worried that the Infected watching me would break in and finish the job. More than enough time had passed for that to happen, yet here I was, still alive. For now.
My lips pulled down into a frown. Perhaps that was the reason I had not met my death quite yet. Perhaps it was enjoying watching me die.
The thought was not comforting. In all honesty, I figured that I would much prefer a swift, although brutal death as opposed to slowly starving. The body in the room next door seemed like a wicked omen thrown at me by a mixture of cruel fate and my own foolishness.
"I'm not going to die here," I told myself again, as firmly and as confidently as I could. It made me feel better. Marginally.
I sighed and sat back, only to lean forward again, grasping at my abdomen in a tremor of pain. Startled, I looked down, only to regret doing so. There were four wide, dark red gashes stretched across the skin, although they were covered in so much dried blood and street filth it was impossible for me to see just how bad—or not so bad—the injury really was. It certainly felt terrible. Perhaps not life threatening, but most definitely it was something to worry about.
I stared at the wound as my stomach moved up and down with my breathing. Then another thought occurred to me, one that had been the cause of so much confusion the night before. Why had that Infected stopped its attack? That was what had been bothering me. That was what was making me so furious and frustrated above all else. It made no sense. We had encountered Infected like that before, the ones that the graffiti at the safe houses called Hunters. Once they started on a kill, the only thing that would stop them was death or being forcibly dislodged. They were maddened, bloodthirsty, and beyond reason.
Yet this one had stopped on its own accord, moments before Akamu had come to pose a threat. Then it had showed an unsettling sense of self-preservation. It confused me, and I hated being confused.
Why had it not finished the job while it had the chance? Why did it not try to finish the job now?
It's the cat, and I'm the mouse, I thought bitterly. It was playing a game with me. Probably waiting for me to leave this stupid apartment. For some reason, I interested it enough for it to hunt me actively. Not like it probably had much else to do. It had all the time in the world out there.
My fingers curled up over my wound, my molars grinding. I had two choices: sit here and die, or brave the outside and try for the slim chance that I might be able to escape.
No brainer, there. If I was going to go down, I may as well go down fighting.
Glancing up at the window to ensure I was alone, I eased myself onto my hands and knees and crawled the few feet to the fallen dresser, prying out the drawers until I found a dark green shirt to my liking. All the clothing was male, and several sizes too large, but what choice did I have? I kept an eye on the window as I shucked off my jacket and ruined shirt and undershirt and slipped the new garment on. It was large enough that I tied a knot in the side to keep it from getting in the way. My jacket would just have to do, even though it was soaked in blood and dirt and smelled worse than a garbage dump.
I grabbed up another stray shirt and, sitting with my back to the bed and my new shirt pulled up around my chest, I used a little bit of the remaining water and the makeshift towel to clean my abdomen wounds. It was all I could do not to cry out in pain as I shakily attempted to wipe away some of the crusted blood and grime. In the end, it was nowhere near perfect and would most likely face an infection before too long if not properly treated and cleaned, but all I needed was for it to be less of a problem in my escape attempt. I doubted the water system worked in the bathroom, and I needed the remainder of the drink to try to get my strength back up to give me a decent chance.
Retrieving the first aid kit, I rifled through it until I found bandages, gauze, and first aid ointment and got to work on patching myself up. I did the best I could, considering, although it took quite a long time before I was finished. It was sloppy, but at least the claw marks were covered.
I took a few moments to rest. My exhaustion leveled out to bearable tiredness. The food and drink had certainly help, as had the long sleep. Maybe I wasn't as helpless as I had felt earlier. Maybe I had a chance after all.
After I regained a bit more strength, I went to work searching every drawer and nook and cranny I could find. I was even able to stand shakily for a few minutes while I searched the top shelves of the closet. In the end, there was little for me. Anything of use had been taken and moved into the main room. All I found was a lighter and a stray screwdriver. Great, if I wanted to try to get close enough to poke some eyes out.
Flicking the lighter on and off to test that it was indeed usable, I eased myself up onto the bed and leaned against the headboard, arms wrapped around my legs, and turned my attention to the next problem—how to leave.
I would give it one more day to try to get as much strength back as possible and just hope that the others hadn't had the chance to travel too far out of my reach. But I thought I might as well try to decide on my avenue of escape while I was doing nothing. I chewed on my lip, staring between the window and the door. If I went through the window, I wouldn't have to break the glass at least as it opened and unlocked on the inside. Once the screen was removed I would be able to crawl out with relative ease. However, my weapons may very well be on the other side of the next window, in which case I would still have to go through broken glass to get what I needed. If the Hunter was waiting for me outside, then it would be a simple matter to pounce while my back was turned.
As for the door…I would need to use extra strength to push aside the dresser enough to give me a clear shot. I would also need to go through the room. With the dead body. Even in here, with the door tightly shut, the putrid smell was impossible to ignore. I had only been able to stand it because my own smell was worse enough to match.
Well, perhaps that meant the hunter would be least likely to be waiting in the next room and hesitant to enter. Maybe its sense of smell would make it unbearable. Plus, at least one of my weapons had to be in that room, waiting for me.
The bedroom door seemed the best gamble. Not that I really wanted to gamble with my life. Like I had a choice.
Out of the corner of my eye, I caught the familiar dark form of movement at the window. Without missing a beat, I snatched up another discarded item and chucked it as hard as I could. It hit slightly off-center, almost on the wall, but I saw the hooded figure jerk back in response and thought I heard the faintest of growls, muffled by the glass. However, this time the creature did not disappear. It continued to sit there and watch me, as if aware I was planning my escape. Perhaps it realized that I could not hurt it through the glass, that my projectiles were harmless. For the moment.
"Yeah, go ahead and gloat while you can, you smug bastard," I muttered, yanking up the covers and pulling them around my shoulders.
I had been determined to stay up and stare the creature down until it got bored and left, but the next thing I knew, I was waking up with the sun in my eyes. Somehow, even with being watched, I had fallen asleep again.
Automatically, I looked to the window. It was empty. My watcher had gone. And the door was still in place.
Now more awake and revitalized than the day before, a new thought occurred to me as I ran over my possibilities for escape in my mind. I stood up, using the headboard for support, testing my legs. Yes, I had the strength to stand. I took a tentative step. And I could walk, as long as I took it easy and gradually got back into the swing of things. I headed into the bathroom. Each step sent pain across the wound on my stomach, but I ignored it. All right. Ability to walk farther than a few feet without collapsing. Check.
After seeing the toilet, I realized how long it had been since I had last used the bathroom. True, it would probably wouldn't flush, but it's not like it really mattered. Once my poor bladder had been relieved, I stood up and went to wash my hands, only to remember the power was out and therefore the water was most likely dead. Half-heartedly, I tried the faucet. There was a gurgle, a spout of backed up water, and then nothing. Well, at least that answered that question.
Looking up, I caught my reflection in the mirror. Oh god. I looked terrible. My long black hair tied back in a ponytail, usually so wavy and smooth, was mucked up and matted. The black eyes that stared back at me were narrowed and heavy with dark circles. Then there was the fact that I was covered in blood splatters from head to toe. In short, I looked exactly as if I had been trying to survive a zombie apocalypse for the past two and a half weeks. Charming style. I had a feeling it was quickly catching on. Especially the blood.
I forced down the bile rising to my throat, turning my gaze away to focus on what I had originally come into the bathroom to do. I rummaged through the drawers until I found what I had spotted in my first go around—a can of hairspray. Nearly half empty, but it would serve well to partner with the lighter. A makeshift flamethrower. Not too deadly unless at a close range, but it might serve to scare off whatever I ended up facing.
Well, that was done. I probably had all the weapons I was going to get out of this place unless I wanted to weigh myself down with photograph frames and books to use as hand thrown missiles.
Nah. I highly doubted a dictionary would do much good against a hunter.
I retrieved a few of the nutrient bars from the meager remains of my food supply. Half of the remaining water went down after it. I didn't give myself much time to savor it, even though it may very well be one of my last meals.
Way to keep up your morale, Eden.
While I ate, I kept a steady eye on the window, my only current link to the outside word. I wondered if the Hunter waited for me somewhere close, even though it was daylight, and the middle of the day by the look of it. How determined was it to get at me? How long was it willing to wait for the chance to do so? For a fleeting moment, I considered trying to out wait it. I had enough food to last a week if I was careful. The water would be pushing it, but it might be easier to leave this place if the Hunter got bored and left, giving me enough time to get to the safe house and possibly find provisions…
No. I had been here long enough. The others had probably already left. At that thought, a part of me rose up in indignity and betrayal. After everything I had done, they were just going to give up and leave me for dead? But I knew how I really felt. I wanted them to be safe. I hoped they were.
Carefully, I stood up and crept to the window. Half expecting something to pop out at me, I took a deep breath and pressed my face up against the glass, straining to see as much as I could of the outside world.
A small sliver of the street on either side was visible. Mutilated bodies lay in testament to the battle that had taken place a day before. Past that, the street seemed empty. I turned to look at the other side. Empty there, too, although without a better view, that wasn't saying much.
I turned my attention to the balcony, straining to catch a glimpse of one of my weapons. To my utter relief and simultaneous dread, I caught the glint of the blade of my katana. Alright, so it had been pushed out of my belt while I was crawling through the window. Great. At least I knew where it was. The gun was nowhere in sight, which meant it was most likely in the room next door. I wracked my brains, trying to remember if I had carried it in. Maybe. Probably. I couldn't be sure. The difference could be life or death.
Of course, there was always the chance the Hunter recognized the weapon for what it was and removed it from the equation completely. I rolled my eyes at that. No, its brain was too far damaged by the virus for such thinking. The Infected were smart enough to set up primal traps at times, and the more mutated ones were much almost cold and calculating. But any upper level human train of thought had been absent in all of our dealings. There was no reason for this Hunter to be any different.
Only it had acted different already, hadn't it?
Great. Out of all the Infected I could have had stalking me, I had the one who was smarter than it looked. My luck was running out. If you could call getting trapped in here lucky.
The rest of the day passed in anxiety. I switched between wanting to go out through the window and the door, my mind tossing the ideas back and forth like a football in a high-risk game of catch. Eventually, I gave up reasoning and second-guessing myself and started into an array of exercises. I was pleased to see that my injuries and exhaustion were not as bad as I had originally thought. Before long, I almost felt like my old self again.
And then it was sunset. Maybe an hour left to go until the sun disappeared behind the horizon completely. I wasn't sure why I waited until it was almost night. It would be more difficult for me to see what was coming at me in the dark. But in the sheer daylight, I felt naked, exposed.
Silently, my jaw set, I went about gathering up the rest of the food, water bottle, and the first aid kit, packing it away into my backpack, which I secured on my shoulders. I slipped the screwdriver into my belt and picked up the lighter and the hairspray can. I felt a giddy sense of excitement trill up my spine, the same feeling I got right before a fight. Finally, I was about to be doing something more than sitting around being worthless.
The fallen dresser was easier to move than I had originally managed. Sure, it was still one heavy chunk of wood, but by tugging it forward just enough that I could get part of my body in between it and the door and use my legs to push it out, my back braced against the wall, I managed to shove away within minutes.
Seeing my blockade lying uselessly to the side put my nerves on edge. Now all that was left was a lock and a door.
As silently as I could, I undid the lock, took a deep breath, and slowly pried the door open, tensed and ready to slam it shut in case I found something staring back at me.
There wasn't. Although I was nearly knocked over by the wave of putrid stink. It was worse than I remembered it being, and I nearly lost my hastily eaten dinner then and there.
Gagging, I drew up my shirt over the lower half of my face and tried not to breathe too deeply. It would have been a shame to throw up my possible last meal.
I cracked the door open a little further. The hinges creaked and I winced. No movement. I opened the door a little more and peeked my head out.
The room was still visible in the rapidly darkening shadows as the fading light from the broken window streamed in. I could see the details I had missed in the dark, even though I wished afterwards that I could scrub my memory clean of them.
The front door was barricaded by what looked like every possible bit of furniture in the living room. Slumped up against it lay the dark form that had haunted my mind for the past two days.
It was—had been—a man. It was impossible to tell his age or much else. He had blown most of his head off with a pistol that lay at his side, clutched in rigid hands.
I averted my gaze, stifling my gag reflex as best I could by focusing on locating my weapon.
There. Under the window. Next to the dried vomit I had left earlier. I glanced around the entire room, avoiding looking at the dead body as much as possible. No sign of the Hunter. No sign of any movement whatsoever.
Still…
I shoved the lighter and hairspray into my jacket pockets. Then, with the speed of the sprinter I was, I flung open the door the rest of the way and sprung to the window, snatching up the gun and swinging it over my shoulder. Shoving aside the glass shards I had missed earlier, I rolled out onto the balcony. The katana was in my hand and I was down the stairs to the landing below me within a few heartbeats.
Movement!
The Hunter had been waiting for me.
From its hiding place in a room across the alleyway, it leapt towards me with a shriek, its claws outstretched. I winced and jumped back to avoid getting pinned, swinging out my katana instinctively. But the creature had apparently underestimated the distance. Or it had been expecting my automatic retaliation. It landed several feet away from me on the railing of the landing, one clawed hand clutching the railing above and hanging on to stare at me, looking for all the world like a curious monkey.
I swung out my katana again and the Infected dodged aside to avoid it, growling at me. I was down the steps to the next flight in a flash. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw it follow.
One more flight to go. Why hadn't the Infected caught up to me yet? I knew it was more than capable of doing so. Was it worried about the melee weapon in my hand? Did it have that much reasoning ability left in it?
Last landing. Finally. No time for the ladder, plus the noise of it dislodging may have drawn attention. It looked like I was taking the hard way down.
Without missing a step, I launched myself up onto the railing, jumped, twisted in the air so the soles of my sneakers steadied me for just a moment against the outside bottom edge of the landing, and then jumped down.
It was more of a fall than I was prepared for. There was just enough time for me to wonder if being any larger and taller would have helped much before I landed. Hard. I couldn't roll in case I slashed myself open with my own blade, so I landed straight on my feet, full force.
Apparently, I was still not completely recovered from my injuries and exhaustion. The timing and balancing had been terrible. The impact stunned me for a few vital seconds. I lurched to my feet, stumbling about. I shook my head to clear it, then pointed myself towards the nearest street and tried to run for it.
The Hunter dropped out of nowhere directly in my way, landing in a half-crouch in the middle of the alleyway, its claws hanging at its side, its dark face turned in my direction. Too far away for melee. I swung around the gun, but before my finger slipped into the trigger, the Infected was already mid pounce.
Before I had time to yell, I was on my back once again, the creature's heavy weight leaving me with starving lungs. Claws tore at the gun in my hands, ripping it away and off my shoulder with startling strength. Reflex attempted to bring my sword up to defend myself, the anger from the attack before surging through my veins, but the air in front of me was empty.
Gasping for air, I rolled onto my front and staggered to my feet, the energy I had recovered over the past two days draining. My gaze searched the area frantically, questioning why the Hunter had disappeared.
I found it in full crouch now on the other side of the alleyway, my weapon laid out tauntingly at its feet. Almost as if it were daring me to come after it. The alleyway was completely doused in shadows now. Night was falling faster than I had estimated.
For a tense moment I stood there glaring at the Infected, heaving breaths, my body aching. It felt as if the wound on my stomach had ripped a bit more.
"Well aren't you the little smart ass," I spat, the hate and anger that was rebuilding within me forcing out the words.
The Hunter tilted its head to the side.
Holding the katana out in front of me with both hands, I took a step back. The Infected tensed up, preparing to pounce once again.
"Go ahead," I snapped, my tongue out of my reasonable control. If I had been in my right mind, I would have wondered why I was even bothering to speak to this thing. "Just give me the chance. I'll skewer you like a pig."
I took a few more steps back. The creature hesitated. It gave me time to think, to check my surroundings. The dumpster was to my side. That would work. I ignored the decaying bodies stacked next to it and dove to the side for cover.
A loud growl echoed through the alleyway as I disappeared from the Hunter's sight behind the metal. I had seconds before the creature got to me. Seconds.
A plan, Eden, put that brain of yours to use!
The katana fell to the side as I plunged my fingers into my jacket pockets, yanking out the lighter and the hairspray, still miraculously there despite all the opportunities to fall out.
I thrust the two objects out in front of me, my mind in reflex survival mode. My right thumb flicked the lighter switch. My left thumb pressed down on the hairspray release.
Out of sheer, dumb luck, the lighter ignited on the first try. A loud FWOOMP of fire shot out from the end of the can in a burst, exploding into the night air as it followed the path of the hairspray. I heard a shriek, startling close and directly above me. Instinctively, I aimed my makeshift weapon upwards to see that the Hunter had just barely landed onto the top of the dumpster right above my head. It got a full face of the fire and flung itself back. I thought I heard it fall into the trash through the open side of the dumpster, growling and shrieking furiously.
I shoved the lighter and the can back into my pockets and was on my feet and running within seconds, the katana clutched at my side.
"That's what you get for playing games!" I heard myself call back mockingly over my shoulder, a wild laugh escaping my lips.
The street was mere feet ahead of me. Whether empty or not, I could have cared less at that point. I would just have to make a run for the safe house and pray that I could get inside without any more trouble…
But in its fury, the Hunter recovered from my burning trick faster than I would have imagined. Somehow, it caught up to me. I found out as much when it plowed into me from the side like a battering ram.
Its much heavier, larger body and our combined momentum carried us through a slightly ajar door that had been hidden in the shadow. I barely had time to reflect on how terrible my luck was going at the moment before we crashed into a set of fully loaded shelves just within the doorframe. The resounding crash was deafening, and I felt my heart leap at the thought that it would surely draw the attention of a horde.
Unfortunately for me, that was the least of my worries.
If I hadn't been so worried about keeping myself alive against the Hunter, I may have heard the sobbing cries. If the Hunter hadn't been so focused on getting at me, it might have sensed the dangerous presence within the abandoned building.
But we had both been oblivious. Although not for long.
The Hunter's momentum caused it to roll off me. In a flash, it was facing me in a crouch, snarling. I was dazed. Confused. The din we had caused resounded in my ears, my body and wound aching with a vengeance. I manage to roll to my knees in the direction away from the Hunter, slamming my back up against the wall. But there was no energy left in my limbs. Even as the anger and hate surged through my mind, my body was too stunned to respond.
With swimming vision, I saw the Hunter crouch low, preparing to pounce.
This is it, I thought, strangely calm. Not even my anger problem can get me out of this.
Turned out I didn't need it. All I needed was my so-called terrible luck.
And a very pissed off witch.