--
The locker room was damp and reeking of sweat, the clingy stale smell of bodies and feet. The dark area was actually well lit by a car burning just outside the window; the flickering fires cast an eerie glow throughout the dim room as the women lay Alyssa atop a hard wooden bench. Yoko tucked her balled up jacket under her head. Cindy, as she had promised earlier, would search the locker room. It wasn't a large area, only four columns of lockers running parallel to one another, and a bookend pair on opposite ends.
Cindy combed up and down each row, her flashlight flipping side to side as she passed. Then she checked the showers and bathroom stalls, both devoid of anything living, dead, or undead.
"It looks clear," she called from the showers, testing one of the knobs. "The water's running too," she said as she came back. Alyssa was sitting up now, seemingly none the worse for wear. She began to remove what little remained of her pants suit.
"Cindy, even the seediest peep shows charge at least a quarter...," she said to Cindy, who realized she had been staring.
"I--I'll go get some clean towels," fumbled Cindy, her face reddening. She turned, expecting to see Yoko just as embarassed, but the girl was already at the far end of the locker room, testing Alyssa's lock pick on a worn padlock.
"She can't remember her own combination," Yoko said, rolling her eyes. "It's a good thing she knows how to pick locks."
"I don't even carry a key ring thanks to my skills," she joked from the other side. "Besides, you could use the practice, kiddo."
"I'll do your locker next," Yoko said, as she left to find the women's locker room further down the hall. "Will you be ok in here by yourself?"
"I'll be fine," Alyssa yelled over the locker. "Remember, locker four oh nine."
Cindy hurriedly exited the locker room with the girl, continuing her search of the downstairs and beginning her search for clean towels.
Alyssa tossed the last bit of her burnt clothing onto the pile, walking slowly into the dark confines of the shower. Standing in the dark stillness of the room, she felt a shiver along her bare back. The room was dark, deathly quiet except for the sound of water which somehow seemed distant to her. But she soon dismissed the thought and stepped gingerly into the icy stream of water.
The cold water felt heavenly on her burns, and as the running water cleared away the bleach-white chemicals from the first aid spray, she realized they weren't as bad as she had feared. Scarring would be minimal; she'd have to thank Yoko later. She ducked her head directly under the nozzle, the icy water flowing through her short hair and washing away the blood and grime from the days' adventures. The cold bite of the water felt great on her face, and she suddenly felt alive again, more alive than she had in days. Over the rush of water, she heard something moving from the locker room outside. She turned off the water, hoping it was Cindy coming back with the towels.
"Great timing, Cin," she said, her voice echoing in the silence. "Cindy?"
But she heard nothing, only the drip of the dying shower faucet. With only darkness draped over her, she felt fully aware of her nudity, droplets of frigid water running down her shivering skin as she huddled against her body for warmth. Crossing her arms over her exposed breasts, she shivered so hard that it pained the muscles of her back. A quiet but anxious hope in the back of her mind prayed that it was George, maybe even Jim, brought in by the curious sound of running water. But they would've answered her calls...unless they'd left, realizing it was just her cleaning her wounds. Nah, Jim would've stuck around for the show, especially the way he was looking at her earlier, she thought. No, she knew. In that long moment of silence, she knew for certain she wasn't alone in that dark room.
Another sound, this one closer. Something dragging along slowly, so very slowly. Holding tightly onto her breath, she strained her ears to listen for the sound. But she heard nothing; instead she saw it through the murky darkness; a zombie struggling towards her, its eyes glowing in anticipation. Without a weapon in hand or even clothes on her back, cornered, she did the only thing a sensible modern career woman could do: she screamed.