As darkness fell across the city, the small group of five found themselves in the breakroom, sprawled aroundin uncomfortable white plastic chairs and eating whatever they'd been able to piece together from the refrigerator and the vending machines. Their attention was focused on the small television in the corner, its non-stop news reports telling them little about what was actually going on.
"They just keep saying the same stuff over and over again," commented Barry, stating the obvious, as he started flipping through the few stations they could receive. "Their so-called experts don't even know what's going on."
"They're probably limited to what they can say on the air, the government wouldn't want to start a panic," Jonathan said, grappling with Barry for the remote. "Damn you! Just leave it on a channel already, we could be missing something important!"
Barry smirked at him, relinquishing the remote and replying, "How can we miss something important if they're not allowed to say anything over the airwaves?"
"Oh...Why don't...Just blow it out your ass!" stammered Jonathan.
"Would you two just shut up already, you're starting to sound like my parents!" snapped Emily with disgust.
"Shhh...Everyone be quiet, they're saying something new," Tara said, walking closer to the television to turn up the volume.
"We're going live to Fort Pastor where our very own James Pratt is standing by. James?"
The screen was suddenly filled with a pair of men standing in front oftwoBradleys alongside a Humvee, a .50 caliber machine gun protruding from its turret. To the left, was obviously the reporter, decked out in a khaki outfit more suited to a safari than a stateside military post. To the right stood a man clad in camouflage. The reporter began to speak.
"Thank you Dane. I'm here at Fort Pastor with Command Colonel David Webster. Colonel Webster, what's the military doing to help alleviate the situation our citizens are currently facing?" The reporter asked, flashing the Colonel and the camera his best 'concerned citizen' smile.
"At this time Fort Pastor is the largest and most secure rescue station in the area. We have multiple search and rescue teams out both on the ground and in the air to provide aide and bring to safety those who are stranded in the hardest hit areas of the city. Nationally, by Presidential order, all National Guard and Reserve troops have been called to active duty to help restore order," the Colonel replied briefly.
"And what about those areas that are currently free of attack? Are citizens still being asked to remain in their homes with doors and windows locked?" queried the reporter.
"If the areas are free of attack the best thing they can do is make their way in an orderly fashion towards the closest rescue station to their homes. In addition to activating troops, the President has decreed a state of Martial Law. Citizens will no longer be allowed to remain in private residences as they have been deemed no longer safe, no matter how minimal the level of activity in your area may seem we cannot guarantee it will remain that way. As for those of you who may now find yourselves stranded, hang tough, we will find you."
"So what does all that mean?" Tara asked as the screen began depicting images of people arriving at the Fort. They were climbing from trucks, buses, humvees, pretty much every type of vehicle imaginable. All of them shared the same look of fear and bewilderment in their expression, many of them bloodspattered, injured.
"It means that everything is going to be okay sweetie," Emily said brightly, offering the girl a shaky, yet somehow reassuring smile. Jonathan just snorted.
"What was that for?" Tara asked, turning towards the chubby man questioningly.
"Just ignore him, he ain't got nothing to say," Thomas said, looking at the man in question darkly. "Now, if my opinion means anything, I think we did the right thing holing up here, judging by what that Colonel just said. All we need to do to survive whatever craziness is going on out there is sit tight and wait for the rescue teams to come for us."
"And how exactly are those rescue teams gonna know where we are, huh?" Jonathan demanded. "In case you forgot, the streets were filling up with those things when I came back here earlier. It's gotta be ten times worse now, there's no way they'll find it easy to get through here."
"So we put a sign up on the roof," Barry said hopefully. "He said they have airborne rescue teams."
"He's right, we just need to find something to use," Emily said excitedly, grasping onto the idea like a drowning man would a life raft.
"The department store!" Tara said, catching some of Emily's enthusiasm. "There's got to be something down there that we can use. Thomas, you're a security guard here, don't you have some sort of keys to the place?"
"Hell, if we don't have keys we'll just break in," Emily told her. "Under the circumstances, I don't think we'll have to worry about anyone trying to prosecute us."
"Shhhh...Everyone be quiet, they're making some kind of announcement," Jonathan cried out, pointing at the television. Everyone turned their attention to the screen.
"Momentarily we'll be joined with a representative from the Center for Disease Control who will be making an announcement concerning the outbreak of violence..."
"Why would the CDC be getting involved in riots?" asked Emily before the others hushed her into silence. Intent upon hearing what the woman representing the CDC had to say.
"It's been confirmed that the all victims of these attacks have shown immediate signs of infection after being bitten, generally lapsing into a near comatose state in as little as minutes dependent upon the location and severity of the wound. Once this state is reached there is generally a limited amount of time before primary life functions cease and the victims are clinically dead. In as little as three to five minutes after death the bodies are becoming reanimated, returning to life with immediate, homicidal aggression. As near as our researchers have been able to ascertain, these reanimated corpses have no memory of their previous lives, they can't be reasoned with and seem to be acting on pure animal instinct with a single imperative, the need to feed on warm living flesh."
"How do we stop those things?" a reporter called out from the screen.
"Our research has shown that the most effective way to stop them is by severing the top of the spinal column or else massive trauma to the brain," the CDC representative responded shrewdly.
"Are you suggesting that people shoot their own loved ones in the head?" another reporter called out from the crowd, shock evident on everyone's faces.
"As I stated before, these reanimated corpses are nothing more than simple motorized function operating on the basest of impulses. These aren't your loved ones any longer."
The five survivors stared at the television in utter horror. "Do you think it's true?" asked Tara, her face completely ashen.
"I don't know," murmured Emily.
"Look, why don't we head on down to that department store," Thomas said suddenly, breaking through the gloom thathad begun to fill the room. "I think I got some keys for it over in the security office, we can get the supplies for the roof, maybe scrounge up some sleeping bags and pillows for us to use for the night."
"That's actually not a bad idea," admitted Barry. "Let's just make sure we take the weapons with us, even if I don't know how to aim this thing I feel safer just having it close by."
In the end, they all made their way to the stairwell together, no one wanting to be left alone for any amount of time. When they opened the door and started to descend a few steps they were met with a nasty surprise.
"Oh God, what was that?" whispered Tara frantically as a feral snarl echoed its way up through the stairwell.
"How could I have been so stupid!" Thomas said suddenly, slapping his open palm against his forehead.
"What...what do you mean?" Jonathan asked, fear making his voice tremble as perspiration broke out across his pudgy face.
"The stairwell door to the garage, in all our excitement to get the elevator shut off he forgot to lock it," Emily said quietly, meeting Thomas' eyes and seeing him nod quietly in assent.
"We can't go down there now! We have to go back, barricade ourselves in the office," Jonathan rasped out in horror as another inhuman growl filled the stairwell. He slowly began to back away from the others.
"We can't, we've got to lock that door," Emily said bravely, her white knuckle grip on the revolver in her hand the only thing that betrayed her fear.
"She's right, there's no telling how many more of them could get in through that door, right now it sounds like maybe only one, two of them tops. We can handle that," Thomas said with assurance, moving forward to take the lead once again.
"If they aren't already swarming the other floors," Jonathan said, his hand slowly reaching back behind him for the door handle.
"Just stay cool man, it's gonna be okay. If those things were running through the building, they would have found us already. We just need to stay calm," Thomas said.
"Fuck you, I'm not gonna die, not for any of you," the chubby businessman said sharply, bringing another vicious snarl from below as he bolted through the door. "If you want to live you'll follow me now," he cried out, dashing back to the offices. Tara squeaked in fear as a loud thump echoed from below. Her terrified eyes darted back to the stairwell door.
"It's okay if you want to hide Tara," Emily said, turning away to look over the stair railing, searching below for any sign of movement in the dim, flickering fluorescent lighting that coursed the stairwell. Squaring her shoulders she moved to stand beside Thomas, "We'll take care of this."
"Oh fuck that girlfriend, you know I'm coming with you too, Em," Barry said, clumsily hefting the uncomfortable weight of the pistol in his hand.
"I'm sorry," Tara whispered as she turned and fled the stairwell.
"Okay then, I'll take the lead going down," Thomas told the others, slowly descending, his pistol stretched out confidently before him."Emily, I want you behind me. Barry...what can I say man, just try not to shoot either of us, or yourself, for that matter." His words brought a ghost of a smile to Barry's face as he trailed after the others. They moved slowly, carefully, half expecting something to leap out at them from the shadows. With each step they took, the growling and snarling below grew more frenzied. There were more thumps that echoed juicily through the stairwell as well, as if someone were beating a heavy wet mop against one of the runners.
"I don't get it," whispered Emily. "That thing knows we're here, obviously, why isn't it coming after us?"
Neither of her companions bothered to reply, too bewildered themselves by the notion to answer her question. As they reached the landing above the last stretch of steps they had a clear view of the door to the garage level. Sprawled across the bottom few steps, it's face chewed nearly beyond recognition, it's body a mass of chewed up limbs lay the creature.
"Holy shit, it's Phil!" Emily cried out, suddenly recognizing what remained of the computer programmer.
One of it's legs was chewed off just below the knee, the other had gaping chunks of meat missing from it. Large pieces of flesh had also been chewed from his torso, arms, and almost every other part of his body, even his right ear was missing. He was trying to drag himself up the steps, but his legs both seemed to be useless, despite the one remaining somewhat intact. His left arm was hanging uselessly at his side, leaving him with only the right to try and claw the way up the steps. The juicy banging sound was his stump leg, pounding uselessly against the floor as he tried to gain some sort of leverage with it.
"How in the hell did he make it this far in that kind of condition?" Barry asked rhetorically.
"I don't know, but we've got to put him out of his misery if we're gonna reach the door," Thomas said, taking careful aim. With a squeeze of the trigger, the bullet imbedded itself neatly between Phil's eyes and he fell into a bloody heap in front of the door. "Watch him, just in case that didn't do anything," Thomas called out as he sprinted down the remaining steps to the door, locking it securely.
"What do we do with the body?" Barry asked when Thomas rejoined them.
"Nothing for now. We make a quick sweep of the building, make sure that there really aren't any more of those things in here, then get the stuff from the department store and head back upstairs. Tomorrow morning will be soon enough to deal with this."