Chapter Seven
Into the large, boarded-up building the three women purged, heedless of danger, searching for the origin of an unsettling sound they had heard not a minute ago. Taking the lead was a tall woman with thick glasses that concealed her beautiful, pondering hazel eyes. Behind her, in the center of the trio, strode a cunningly good-looking girl who bore a smirk of endless amusement. Finally, in the back of the group walked a silent, dark girl, stunningly pretty, though now she bore a depressing grief.
They followed the short passageway that ended at a wall. A small bureau lay on the ground, pieces split asunder by some unknown person or persons. Nearby, imbedded into the concrete of the floor, was a wooden trapdoor with bronze hinges. The same unknown party that had torn the dresser from its original bearings had set this ajar. It was past this trapdoor and down the ladder that lay hidden by it, the three persons delved.
At the bottom of the steel ladder was a large room, littered with the bodies of dead humans, eyes still open, blood still fresh. The trio stepped tentatively over and around the inconvenience and found themselves at a steel door, also ajar, with wet blood on the knob.
They entered slowly, carefully searching the room. It was small, probably a bedroom. A door led northwards into a room that had its light on. A bed was situated in a corner of the room, spotted with blood. The ground also held spatters of blood.
Dory crept into the room in front of her. She entered and the other two heard a shout. It wasn't her, though. Instead, it was a lightly built man nursing a wound on his left wrist. Dory instructed the others to enter as well, claiming that the man was "not sick".
So, Sarah and Jewel entered the bathroom. It was a bathroom with a shower and a toilet and a sink, which the man was now bent over, his right hand holding his left wrist. He was stricken by the trio's appearance, but now attended to himself.
"What happened?" Dory asked the man quietly, so as not to shock him. He looked up at her with dull blue eyes. "I was sick of it all," he replied. "What?" Dory asked, but Sarah changed the subject. "Come inside the room," she offered.
The man nodded his head and stood up straight. He was well over six feet tall, but was very thin, probably from malnutrition. Despite this fault, he still looked very formidable. He had a kind face and curious eyes.
* * * * * * * * * * *
The man had sat on the bed, still grasping his left wrist, now with a cotton strip. Dory sat beside him, oddly attracted to this man. Jewel was in the front room, investigating and Sarah was using the restroom.
"So, how did that happen to you?" she asked again. The man sighed. "I'll tell you the whole story." Dory smiled, "Go on."
"I am- was- a reporter for the Arizona Republic. I had been covering the story of the zombies along with many others. I alone survived when they raided the camp we had set up behind an army barricade. I escaped into the city, wandering about, looking for other survivors and a way out of the city. It had been about three months of searching, and yet, I had found nothing," he sighed. "I tired of it and tried to end it by slashing my wrists. However, my more reasonable mind told me it was a bad idea and I ran, looking for a safe haven. The Afflicted can smell the blood, they can. I came here and said to myself, David, you are a lucky man. David's my name, anyway. I ran into the building, fell down the hole that was normally accessible by a ladder and found myself here. That is when you found me."
Dory smiled. "Well, we are always in welcome of another friend," she noted. "Hello, David," she began, "my name's Dorris, or just Dory." She held out her hand to shake.
Into the large, boarded-up building the three women purged, heedless of danger, searching for the origin of an unsettling sound they had heard not a minute ago. Taking the lead was a tall woman with thick glasses that concealed her beautiful, pondering hazel eyes. Behind her, in the center of the trio, strode a cunningly good-looking girl who bore a smirk of endless amusement. Finally, in the back of the group walked a silent, dark girl, stunningly pretty, though now she bore a depressing grief.
They followed the short passageway that ended at a wall. A small bureau lay on the ground, pieces split asunder by some unknown person or persons. Nearby, imbedded into the concrete of the floor, was a wooden trapdoor with bronze hinges. The same unknown party that had torn the dresser from its original bearings had set this ajar. It was past this trapdoor and down the ladder that lay hidden by it, the three persons delved.
At the bottom of the steel ladder was a large room, littered with the bodies of dead humans, eyes still open, blood still fresh. The trio stepped tentatively over and around the inconvenience and found themselves at a steel door, also ajar, with wet blood on the knob.
They entered slowly, carefully searching the room. It was small, probably a bedroom. A door led northwards into a room that had its light on. A bed was situated in a corner of the room, spotted with blood. The ground also held spatters of blood.
Dory crept into the room in front of her. She entered and the other two heard a shout. It wasn't her, though. Instead, it was a lightly built man nursing a wound on his left wrist. Dory instructed the others to enter as well, claiming that the man was "not sick".
So, Sarah and Jewel entered the bathroom. It was a bathroom with a shower and a toilet and a sink, which the man was now bent over, his right hand holding his left wrist. He was stricken by the trio's appearance, but now attended to himself.
"What happened?" Dory asked the man quietly, so as not to shock him. He looked up at her with dull blue eyes. "I was sick of it all," he replied. "What?" Dory asked, but Sarah changed the subject. "Come inside the room," she offered.
The man nodded his head and stood up straight. He was well over six feet tall, but was very thin, probably from malnutrition. Despite this fault, he still looked very formidable. He had a kind face and curious eyes.
* * * * * * * * * * *
The man had sat on the bed, still grasping his left wrist, now with a cotton strip. Dory sat beside him, oddly attracted to this man. Jewel was in the front room, investigating and Sarah was using the restroom.
"So, how did that happen to you?" she asked again. The man sighed. "I'll tell you the whole story." Dory smiled, "Go on."
"I am- was- a reporter for the Arizona Republic. I had been covering the story of the zombies along with many others. I alone survived when they raided the camp we had set up behind an army barricade. I escaped into the city, wandering about, looking for other survivors and a way out of the city. It had been about three months of searching, and yet, I had found nothing," he sighed. "I tired of it and tried to end it by slashing my wrists. However, my more reasonable mind told me it was a bad idea and I ran, looking for a safe haven. The Afflicted can smell the blood, they can. I came here and said to myself, David, you are a lucky man. David's my name, anyway. I ran into the building, fell down the hole that was normally accessible by a ladder and found myself here. That is when you found me."
Dory smiled. "Well, we are always in welcome of another friend," she noted. "Hello, David," she began, "my name's Dorris, or just Dory." She held out her hand to shake.