Thank you all so much, Dear Readers. Sorry to leave you hanging!
Chapter 13
Hallie and Chrissie stayed glued to the television in the office until it was nearly four in the afternoon. Like clockwork, Phil, their regular Fed Ex guy walked in and promptly collapsed in the middle of the foyer. They tried to call 9-1-1- but the phone just kept going to a recording saying that all operators were busy, please try again. Phil had a high fever, was sweating profusely and was bleeding from a gash on his leg that looked a lot like somebody had just shredded his flesh. He was having difficulty breathing and was barely conscious within a matter of minutes. Within a few more, he had stopped breathing altogether. He was dead. Just like that.
Chrissie cried and grabbed Hallie's arm and asked what their next move was. Hallie had to admit that she had no idea. She was beginning to realize that there was something very wrong. This flu epidemic, the violence, the chaos that was on the news, it was all connected. Cause and effect. Something terrible. Catastrophic. She had to get home. She had to find Daryl.
She locked up the front door and covered Phil with a blanket from the first aid kit. His body was looking weird already-turning a ghastly shade of gray, the wound on his leg continued to bleed and grow larger. It gave her the creeps just looking at it. Grabbing Chrissie, she pushed her to their desks and told her they were getting the hell out of there, it was time to leave. They'd deal with Phil later after things calmed down. Tomorrow maybe. Lord knows he wasn't going anywhere.
Hallie gathered her purse and a sweatshirt that she had hanging on the back of her chair and went to find Chrissie. She had returned to the foyer for her cell phone, which she'd left on the counter while they were trying to call an ambulance for Phil. She heard Chrissie screaming bloody murder and heard a loud bumping, scraping sound. She rounded the corner, just in time to see Phil , now risen from the dead, bite into Chrissie's forearm, taking a chunk and causing her to scream more as blood began to run down her fingers and on to the floor.
Hallie grabbed a wooden chair as Phil turned and looked at her. He began to move in her direction, his gait wobbly and unsteady, like a baby walking for the first time. He was making a low growling sound and his hands were stretched out to try to grab her as soon as she was in range. She raised the chair and hit him, knocking him backwards into a file cabinet. He laid there for a second and then started to get up again. At that point, she grabbed Chrissie and hauled her into the kitchenette and locked the door behind them.
Chrissie continued to scream while Hallie ran her arm under water and treated her with the measly contents of the small first aid kit they kept above the sink. Finally, Chrissie calmed down and Hallie was able to convince her that they'd be alright, as soon as Phil left, they'd run to the car and get Chrissie to a hospital. Phil, apparently, wasn't on board with the plan. The whole time Hallie was trying to tend to Chrissie's bleeding arm, he bumped and hit the wooden door between the kitchen and office. The growling animal sounds he was making were even more unnerving than hearing his fingernails scratch on the wood as he clawed and pushed and rattled the door.
Hallie had a hard time getting the bleeding to stop, so she made Chrissie lay down on the floor. She began crying softly, repeating that she was going to die. Hallie wasn't sure if she was right or wrong, at that point. The poor thing had lost so much blood and was becoming weaker with each passing minute.
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"FUCK!" Daryl said, slamming down the phone after another unsuccessful attempt to reach Hallie on her cell. He tried to call Merle, but there was no answer. He was torn as to whether to get in his truck and drive to her work and get her or to stay put knowing that the first place she'd head would be there. His first instinct was to jump in the truck but he knew that chances are he'd miss her and then she'd be home and he wouldn't and the situation would just get fucked up even more. It was driving him crazy not being able to hear her voice or know that she was safe.
By eight that night, Daryl was totally insane with worry. He still couldn't reach Merle. He left Hallie a detailed note at the house and took off towards her office in his truck. The note instructed her to stay put, that he was on his way to her office to find her, what route he was planning to take and to pack food, clothes, everything she could think of and have everything ready, they would be leaving for the cabin as soon as he returned.
The streets were crowded with people, cars packed full, heading out of town. People were driving like madmen and he witnessed more than a few accidents, some of them serious. It took him three hours to drive the normally minutes-long trip to her workplace. To say that Daryl was a madman himself was an understatement.
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Chrissie was having difficulty breathing and Hallie still couldn't get through by phone. Phil was still outside the door. He'd quit banging and scratching the door for a while and they could hear him bumping into things and knocking stuff over in the outer office, but he'd always return to pound and scrape and thump on the door. It made it hard for Hallie to concentrate on the more immediate matter, Chrissie's rapidly-deteriorating state. Her wound was ugly now, oozing, raw, the flesh turning a sickening black around the bite, the impression of Phil's teeth so clear on her skin at first and now, a gaping black hole. Hallie was trying to stay focused but in the back of her mind, she was comparing Chrissie to Phil now and she knew that if Chrissie didn't make it, she shuddered and forced the thoughts out of her mind.
She continued to wipe Chrissie's now burning-hot forehead with a wet hand-towel and tried to get her to drink some cool water. Still bleeding, aspirin for the fever would be disastrous. She looked at her watch, it was almost six. She wondered if Daryl had tried to call, she knew that he probably had, and she desperately needed to hear his voice now.
Chrissie's eyes rolled back in her head and she made a quiet gurgling sound in the back of her throat. Hallie shook her lightly and Chrissie's pupils reappeared briefly, looking glassy and red.
"Hallie. I'm not going to make it." she said in a whisper.
"Stop being a drama queen, you are too. When the phones go back up, we'll get you to the hospital and get you stitched up. You're going to be fine."
"No. I know I'm not. I'm so cold and my head hurts like crazy." Chrissie closed her eyes again. "I just want...to go to...sleep."
"CHRISSIE. Walk up. No sleeping! Wake up now!" Hallie said loudly, shaking her harder.
Chrissie didn't wake up. Hallie held her softly and rocked her back and forth. She hadn't worked there very long and Hallie didn't know her all that well, but she was a nice girl and she didn't deserve to die like this. Locked in a kitchen with a crazy man outside, bleeding to death with god-knows-what. Hallie started sobbing briefly until a cold chill ran through her. She laid Chrissie down gently and then moved to the other side of the room. She needed to think. To take stock of the situation. To be prepared in case what happened to Phil happened to Chrissie. She looked around the room. Wooden table with four chairs. Microwave on cabinet. Refrigerator. First aid kit. No weapons, nothing bigger than a paring knife in the utensil drawer.
Hallie looked at the table once more and crawled underneath on her hands and knees, eyeing the legs. they were thick, heavy oak spindles, screwed on with two large thumb-screws each. Easy to detach. Solid enough to do some damage. She flipped the table over and started working on the screws. They were tight, but with the leverage of a butter knife from the drawer, she was able to get two of them off. Solid oak, three foot long, bigger than a baseball bat in some places. Gotta love that Amish craftsmanship, she thought, too scared to giggle at her own sick humor.
Hallie was working on the third leg when Chrissie's hand twitched. Naw, I'm seeing things Hallie thought. She's not going to turn into...twitch...Phil...twitch...eyes open. Hallie reached to her side and scooted back a bit, further away from Chrissie's now grey-body. Chrissie's body continued to move slightly, tremors, twitches, eyes blinking. It turned it's head towards her and opened it's mouth, making slow chewing motions. Fuck me, Hallie thought. What the hell is happening? What is going on? People are biting each other and dying and then coming back to life? Really? Night of the Living Dead shit? It was too incredible to believe.
The thing that was Chrissie was now trying to sit up. It had rolled over closer to Hallie and had it's nose in the air, like a dog with a scent trail in the wind. It looked at Hallie and it's milky eyes focused on her, somewhere inside realizing that she was the source of the scent. It pushed itself forward and tried to stand as Hallie rose, a table leg now in her hand. As the creature lunged forward with a sound that made Hallie shudder, Hallie swung at the creature, holding the table leg like a baseball bat. Oak connected with bone in a sickening sound as part of the skill caved in and the creature dropped, it's mouth still moving, chewing and biting at air. Hallie closed here eyes and mouthed the words "I'm sorry Chrissie." She raised the bat and struck three more blows, shattering the skull and rendering the thing now truly lifeless. She sat down in one of the chairs she'd pushed to the side and started sobbing. Behind her, Phil had started his bumping on the door again, hearing the commotion and, no doubt, smelling the blood. Hallie sobbed for a few minutes and then stopped. "Coming, Phil." she called, determined to get the hell out of there one way or another.
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Daryl was chain-smoking by the time he reached Hallie's office. He double-parked in the street and threw open the truck door, grabbing his rifle from the gun rack in the back. He was quickly approached by a man stumbling, trying to reach for him. He leveled the gun and fired as the man continued to come towards him, ignoring his warnings. In the streetlight, Daryl could see the man's face, his neck half-torn open, bleeding. He looked unearthly. The man fell back and then stood up, coming again. This time, Daryl aimed for the man's head. He went down and stayed down.
Daryl breathed a sigh and continued towards the office door. It was locked. He lifted the butt of the gun to the plate glass window and broke it with a loud crash. Climbing through, he found the place littered with papers, files, knocked-over furniture and blood. As he walked down the small hallway, he found the body of what used to apparently be a man in a blue delivery company uniform, his head caved in, laying in front of the half-open door. Daryl called for Hallie but there was no response.
Daryl walked cautiously into the tiny kitchen in the office building. There was blood spattered against one of the walls, the table was upside down, three of it's legs missing, and against one wall was the body of what appeared to be a woman, it's head bashed in in much the same way as the man outside. He looked around for a purse, a cell phone, anything to tell him that Hallie had been here and that this was her handiwork. He slowly made his way down the hall to the back door and checked the employee parking lot at the back of the building. It was empty. He was filled with a sense of overwhelming dread, knowing that if Hallie had been here, she was now out there. Alone.