Zoey's POV
Dad was driving us through town; he'd just finished building his '64 Mustang convertible and was dying to take it for a test drive with the rest of the family with him. He was always into building classic cars, even when I was little. I never truly understood what it was all about, and the only reason why I even knew the name was because he called me every Saturday night and obsessed over the damn thing. On those nights dad always said that he'd drive us through the country once he finished it; just him, mom, my brother Michael and me. To be honest I never believed he would actually do it, but here we were with dad driving, mom riding shot gun, Michael and me in the back, firmly shoving my own foot into my mouth, and yet I was never more happy to be wrong. Mom looked back at my brother and me smiling like I haven't seen in years, her graying dark brown hair whipping around in the wind. I turned towards Michael; he looked out the side of the car laughing as we zipped by buildings and houses, despite being sixteen the simplest things in life always made him smile. I sat back in the seat and closed my eyes; what this felt like was a dream come true, and for once in a very long time, I was truly happy.
Though sadly, all dreams must come to an end.
I could hear mom screaming, but her words were chopped by the wind. I snapped my eyes open just in time to see dad turning the wheel and swerving the car off the road. The car rolled, my world was a circular blur as it slipped from me, like dust in the wind. I opened my eyes to see the hospital room, and soon after an uncomfortable pain seared across my chest. A solitary tear rolled down my cheek as I felt the familiar sadness well up inside my heart again. Life's constant reminder of what you once had stabbed me in the back every night; well what else would you dream of in a world like this? I wiped the tear from my cheek and looked towards The Kid. He was sleeping in the chair with his head tilted back. I could tell he was dreaming too, with the subtle signs like the slight twitching of his head and his eyes rolling beneath the lids. I grabbed his wrist and tugged on it.
Wake up.
No response, this kid was deep asleep. I continually began pulling his wrist until I could see him begrudgingly open his eyes and stare at me. Satisfied with my work I dropped his hand and looked up at the ceiling. I couldn't look at him long; he looked too much like Michael, from the black hair, to how he walked. Only after my dream did the sad realization hit. If I didn't know any better I would've thought my brother came back to me, but sadly I knew he was long dead.
The Kid got up from his chair and stretched off the morning weariness I assumed, before attending to my wounds. He hand fed me two more pills, and soon the pain elevated from my chest. Now with the pain gone he took my old bandages and wrapped a new layer around me. With his work done, The Kid took a few steps back and leaned against the wall. He was thinking and I knew what he was thinking as a sickening feeling twisted in my stomach. His eyes shifted from my bag, to me, and then to the door.
No
He was going to leave me; we had no food, no water, and no medical supplies or weapons. One of us was nothing more than a vegetable for the time being. I didn't know him, and he didn't know me, there would be no remorse. Any sane person would do it, but…please no. He walked towards the door and unlocked it. "I'm going to look for supplies, just stay here and with any luck your wounds will heal soon." He said in a solemn tone.
No please; don't leave me. I tried to speak but my throat was stuffed and dry. The Kid looked at me one final time before walking out the door and closing it with a small click.
"NO DON'T GO, PLEASE" I said hushed tone. My voice was horse and it hurt took speak. Tears ran down my eyes, as I lie in my bed, silently weeping to myself. Beneath the sense of betrayal a tiny thought sparked in my consciousness until it completely engulfed it. I was never going to see my team again. My sobs grew as the thought of never seeing my team took its toll on my emotions. I was going to die here, alone, abandoned by someone I thought I could trust. I lied in that bed for what seemed like hours as I watched the sun sink lower in the sky, some singular part of me waiting for The Kid walking through that door with a bag of supplies, yet he never came back. My sorrow quickly became hatred as I thought of him. I didn't know his name or who he was and yet I loathed him, I cursed every fiber of his being every passing second he didn't come back. But soon my stomach twisted into knots, I hadn't eaten or drank anything in two days. While I shifted in and out of consciousness, in some part of my mind I could hear yelling followed by the sound of a gunshot. It was so distant I could barely hear it but the very sound of wrenched me back into reality. This sparked a singular ember of hope inside me, and it wasn't going out anytime soon. I swung my legs over the side of the bed and got onto my feet. My stomach cramped and my vision swam; slowly but surely I got to the door and grasped the handle. The yelling had stopped, and before I could turn the handle the door swung open, revealing a face I thought I'd never see again. "Zoey!" exclaimed Bill.
XXXXXXXXXX
The three men surprised by the discovery of their lost teammate came into the hospital room. Bill immediately sat Zoey, who began to sway off balance. Zoey looked at the three men in disbelief, she couldn't believe that they were here standing right in front of her. Only a few minutes ago were she so certain of death, but now that certainty was shattered. "Zoey what the hell happened to you?" Bill asked. Zoey looked down at her body with the realization that her jacket and shirt was torn with bloodied bandages wrapped around her. She looked back up at her team and shrugged it off. "Stray Hunter, that's all." She said nonchalantly. The rest of the team clearly didn't buy it. Each of them sat back as if listening to a twelve year old arguing with a look on their faces saying: Really? Zoey soon caught on with the rest of them, "I'm serious, it was just a Hunter, I capped the fucker in the head soon after." She explained with a slight tone of offense in her voice. Francis stepped out and spoke for the first time: "I hate bullshit, Zoey even I couldn't hold up against a Hunter if it got me by myself; you've had to at least one other person with you." Zoey eyed Francis with a look of malice across her face, before slumping her back in defeat. "Fine; I was pinned by a Hunter, then this kid came up and stabbed it in the eye, giving me enough time to get a clean shot." She paused her story and looked around at her team. Both Louis and Bill looked at Zoey with interest, keen for her to continue. Francis on the other hand, shook his head and chuckled to himself. "Dumbshit, without that shot you both would've ended up dead; but I'll admit that took some balls, I would've ran the other way if it was me." He spoke to the group. Zoey threw another scowl at Francis before continuing. "That dumbshit saved my life; the Hunter managed to get a few good hits on me before I shot it, and without a moment's notice he came to my aid and patched me up, so I guess not everyone's as much of an asshole as you are Francis" Zoey spat. With sudden realization, Zoey felt torn about that she was defending the person who had left her for dead, but comparatively The Kid wasn't as bad as Francis even if it was by a miniscule amount. Bill seemed to catch on by the look on Zoey's face. "So where is this kid?" Bill asked. Zoey sat there for a few seconds before she answered. "He left me here, he said that he was going to search for supplies, but he never came back" She answered, looking down at her torn jacket and fiddling with the string. The three men looked at each other, all of them knew that Zoey never really took being left behind well, they all knew this from the multiple occasions the three of them left her in a room, and whereupon she began to screech their names despite what situation they were in. However it seems this situation seemed to be worse.
Both Francis and Bill turned to Louis for he is the one could bring the crushing weight of bad news just that little bit softer. Louis stepped out and squatted down in front of Zoey, keeping their eye contact level. "Well Zoey, right when we lost you the entire ground floor was swarmed with infected; we were worried that we'd lost you, because if anybody was down there alone they wouldn't have survived." He explained, in his most calming voice he could muster. Zoey's face was monotone but inside shock, sorrow, and most of all shame swirled inside her. How could she? He had saved her life once, and didn't even receive a simple "thank you" in return. Now he went to go risk his life in order to save her life yet again, and had paid for it with his own, and she loathed him, unknowing what had happened, only assuming the worst of him. Bill then placed Zoey's shoulder. "Come on kid, let's get you patched up and out of here."
Ryan's POV
"Hello, are you okay?" I asked, aiming my flashlight to the girl huddled in the corner. Before I could take one step further the girl snapped her head towards me, revealing two glowing red eyes with the intent of murder. Her hair was bleached white; her hands were covered in blood and at the end of the girl's digits grew claws, these trumped both the Hunters' and the bulbous' claws. Theirs only extended a couple of inches or so, the girl's claws easily extended seven inches from her fingers, all the more reason to run the other way. The infected gaped her mouth and let out a cat-like screech, and charged after me claws poised at my chest. I quickly turned the corner and headed for the front door, I would take my chances with the horde rather than standing my ground against her. I grabbed the door knob and unlocked it. I didn't realize it was too late until I looked over my shoulder and saw the girl was right behind me. She pointed her dagger like claws at me, and as a last ditch effort, I grabbed her by the wrists. The full force of her impact was the equivalent of getting hit by a truck, causing me to fall to the floor.
As I landed, my head hit ground. My vision swam and the familiar skull splitting pain surged throughout my head. Darkness formed in the corners of my eyes as my mind begged to pass out. But another cat like shriek rang in my ears wrenching me back into consciousness. Despite the girl's anorexic appearance, she was strong enough to keep me pinned to the ground, and push her claws closer to my chest. I siphoned all of my energy to keep the claws from getting closer, but to no avail. Her claws were mere inches from my chest, and her face was right in front of my mine. It was no use; my arms ached and were beginning to buckle underneath the pressure, and the girl's face was nose to nose with mine. Across her face she wore a look of absolute loathing, her "eyes" reflected this as well, but within the sea of blood red hatred. Unlike the others the girl's features appeared to have come out unscathed from the infection, except her whole body was a dull gray.
With adrenaline pumping through my veins, and my energy getting sapped away from my attempts of keeping the infected from skewering me, I once again tried to push her back but to no avail. Her claws inched closer to my chest as she shrieked in my face. Anger flamed inside of me; I wasn't going to fucking die, not here, not now; especially not when somebody was depending on me.
DEFEND YOURSELF
In an instant I poured all of my strength and pushed her back, the infected realized that she was losing shrieked at me yet again, only fanning the flames. "SHUT UP!" I screamed back, bringing my forehead to her face. She launched backwards away from me, holding her face with her hands. The girl then stood up onto her feet, I scuffled back until I hit the wall, anticipating another attack. The girl dropped her gaze to me, her eyes no longer held rage, but fear and hurt. She then tore her gaze from me and ran away into one of the aisles.
I sat there, sweat running down my face and my heart felt like drum inside my chest. I felt like crying, to just curl up into a ball and just cry until the darkness came back to me. However somewhere deep inside my mind only spat in disdain: What the hell do you think you're doing? Get the supplies. Reluctantly, I followed the voice's command and got up back onto my feet. I grabbed my scattered duffle bag and flash light, this time cautious of where I pointed the damn thing. Wary that the infected was still here I searched the exact opposite of where the infected girl ran. The shelves held many things which I had no understanding what so ever, so grabbed what appeared to be useful and stuffed inside the duffle bag. Grabbing one box I noticed on the front it read: Keep in low temperature, before stuffing it inside the bag along with everything else. While clearing the shelves I noticed a red pack that in my eyes was salvation, I immediately grabbed it and looked it over. It was exactly the same kind of medical pack The Girl had, I put it into the bag with having that clenched feeling inside my stomach loosen slightly, which almost instantly clenched back up again with a sudden realization: I unlocked the door.
As if on cue the door handle began to turn, excited screeches emanating from the other side of the door. I sprinted towards the door dropping both flashlight and duffle bag on the floor; I slammed the opened door shut and reached for the lock. I had almost reached it when the forces of a dozen bodies crashed into the door. The force pushed me and the door backwards and arms reached through the gap and tried to grab me. The infected grew more excited with the sure knowledge of someone was in the there. I rammed my body into the door, pushing forwards a couple of inches, but soon enough the door began pushing it back again as the increasing amount of bodies pushed against the door. I was trapped with no escape, an army of crazed people bashing down my doors. Now thinking about it, death from razor sharp claws to the heart sounded a whole lot better than whatever hordes of crazed people had in store for me.
With my back against the door, feet planted on the floor, I skidded inch by inch as the door was slowly forced open. My head was racing, I ran through my mind of what I could do. Looking through the room, a hopeful thought of pushing one of the shelves to the door blocking it off was soon crushed by the realization I couldn't even push the shelf in time if I let the door go. After that my mind went blank, I couldn't do anything, there was nothing I could use in here to defend myself; death had its claws firmly dug into me.
Two red orbs to the side of the room caught my eyes again, it was the infected girl. She covered her ears her face twisted in pain, then turned her gaze at me yet again, I was almost afraid that she came back to have her revenge for crashing my forehead against her face, I was in the perfect situation for her: I couldn't defend myself, her own kind were at the front door to back her up, nothing was stopping her. Then she ran back into the aisle, and out of sight, followed by a loud clang sounding across the room. Through the shelves the girl's eyes stared at me a moment longer before disappearing into the wall. "Wait, what?" I mumbled, barely audible with the shrieks of the infected. Then realization hit me like a brick of absolute hope. Remembering the instructions on the box there could only have been one of two things. One: the staff was really fucking lazy. Or two: They kept this room at a low temperature by an air vent.
Everything slowed down, the shrieks and screeches were decreased to muffled chirps. I looked at my duffle bag and flash light on the floor where I so hurriedly threw them, then to the wall where the girl disappeared. I couldn't leave the bag here or my trip would've been useless, yet assessing my chances of grabbing my belongings and throwing them and myself into the air vent before the assembled hordes can lay a finger on me were slim, very, very slim. But it was a risk I was willing to take.
In an instant I leapt from the door, swooping down to grab my duffle bag and the flash light from the floor and bolting it towards the vent. I could hear the door behind me burst open and slam into the wall; I reached the vent and threw my stuff into it. The grid lied on the floor, ripped from the wall screws and all. Behind me the sound of a million footsteps, sounded behind me. The vent was in arm's reach as I dug my fingers into the shaft and used the friction of my bare feet to push against the wall, and squeeze into the ventilation shaft. Horrid screams and wails echoed throughout the narrow tunnel. I pushed away from the entrance, just enough to keep myself out of arm's reach.
I lied in the ventilation shaft with my head on the bag, listening to the cries of the infected. Staring out of the opening in the vent, I made sure none of the creatures in the medical supplies room could get into here. Another reason that was keeping me back was, the last thing I needed was going cross paths with that infected girl again, and with any luck giving her a head start to get as far away as possible will ensure that. Though what stopped her from killing me? I was wide open for an attack, yet she ran away and even indirectly helped me get out of there alive. I pondered this for a short while before noticing that the cries were beginning to die down. I wouldn't be able to escape out the front door, but I got up on my hands and knees content with the knowledge that I would not be followed.
The dark ventilation closed in around me, giving me a sense of claustrophobia. I reached out and felt for the familiar shape of the torch and flicked the switch. The tunnel lit before me, dust coated the floor fluttering into the air each passing breath I took. A trail in the dust extended before me and turned around the corner in the far end. I suddenly remembered what was in my bag on the very bottom beneath the boxes of medicine and antibiotics. I pulled out the crumpled map and unfolded it, I scanned across the first floor again and pinpointed where I was in some blank part of the map. The closest destination to me was the laundry which was right across from the kitchens. I folded the map back up and wrapped it around my torch. It wasn't going to be a pleasurable experience but it would get me where I needed to go.
I had been crawling through the shafts for what seemed like hours, the metal groaned underneath my weight, threatening to collapse under the pressure, slowing me down to inching little by little. The dust particles swished in the air, from time to time causing me to choke. Checking my map, I kept track on how far I've gotten. What unnerved me the most was the dust trail was still in front of me no matter how many turns I had taken I was still on the same path as that infected girl. I checked my map again and retraced my steps through my head; the laundry room should be right below me. I crawled forward, looking for an exit out of this hellish tunnel. My searched was met with the feeling of gridded metal on my fingers and a subtle breeze coming from the other side, ironically. I shined my flashlight through the grill and looked through it. I had reached my destination; rows of hampers ran along the walls. I pushed the duffle bag to the other side a examined the grill closer: there didn't seem to be any screws holding the grill in place, which implied that this grill was fitted into place, this meant that this made my job either very easy or exponentially more challenging.
I gripped both of my hands into some kind of fist and slammed it against the grill, immediately regretting doing so right after. Pain bit both of my hands as I cursed to myself and flapped them in some kind of hope to get rid of it. Despite the higher part of my brain whispering to me that it was a stupid Idea, I tried again biting my lip. I repeatedly slammed my fist against the grid until my fists were red and the indentations of the grid dug deep into my skin. Frustrated, I slammed both my hands on the grid, despite the pain. To my surprise one corner of the grid, just slight slid out of place. Inspired, an idea started to form; taking one hand I curled it into a fist and beat the out of place corner like a hammer, slowly moving down the side. The grid slid even more, giving me the signal I was on the right track. I moved up and down the side of the dislodged section, until it popped out of place and clanged against the tiled floor. "Shit" I said, cursing my own stupidity. I waited in the shaft, straining my ears for any sounds of the infected. Nothing but silence met my ears.
I stuffed my flashing in the middle of the duffle bag and dropped it to the floor. Sliding my body, I grab onto the edge and swing out of the vent, before eventually letting go and landing on the tiled floor. Before I did anything else, I immediately checked the front door. I poked my head outside, looking for any infected, but the coast was clear. Bring my head back, I closed the door and locked it, turning on the heels of my feet to face the room. "So, where were we?"
The hampers held the washed clothes of many patients and staff members, containing everything I needed. Dressed in a pair of jeans, a black button shirt, and a trench coat to boot, I stuffed a hoodie and a pair of shorts into the duffle bag. The bag weighed significantly more than I first got it, but it served its purpose, tenfold. I plucked a pair of socks out of a neatly stacked pile and head for the door. Placing my ear to the door I listened for any sound of trouble, but only silence answered. I opened to the door, and silently skimmed across the halls to the doors labeled: Cafeteria. Unsurprised I opened the unlocked cafeteria door and headed inside. The entire area was one long hall, lined with tables; the floor was littered with cutlery and trays. I walked over to the entrance to the kitchens and tried the door, as expected it was unlocked. A sneaking sense of suspicion lurched inside me; this all seemed too easy after had crawling through a ventilation shaft to escape increasing hordes of murderous crazed people. Though despite my instincts I opened the door and walked into the kitchen.
Immediately I was met with a disturbing sight: along the walls splattered in red paint (at least I hope it was) were random messages. Across the cabinets one message read: THEY'RE NOT THE SAME. Ignoring this, I opened the cabinets searching for anything edible. Turning up empty handed for food with only having found a can opener, I searched frantically determined to find anything, but nothing turned up. I stood opposite from the door I entered from, right above it another message read: NOT MY EYES. Eventually I pieced together what should have been obvious. Nothing turned up because it was all taken, probably by the same person who wrote the messages on the wall. On the other side of the kitchen a set of red foot prints went to a heavy metal door at the back of the kitchen. This door was also covered in red paint, this message read: HE SAID HE WOULD BE BACK. A smeared hand print drew a line to the door handle, I stood in front of the door, every nerve in my body begging to run away from this place, but like an idiot I grabbed the handle and turned it.
The room before me was a dark void; I then reached into my duffle bag and pulled out the flash light switching it on. The room was lined with shelves, holding a variety of food items. Canned goods, bagged snacks, bottled water, and even fruits and vegetables than have long since rotten, giving off a wretched smell. I pointed my flash light at the floor as I entered the storage room, shedding light on something truly unnerving. Hands painted messages were scrawled across the floor: ILOVEMYDADDY-DADDYLOVESME-DADDYWILLCOMEBACK-ILOVEM YDADDYSOMUCH-WHYDIDDADDYLEAVEME-DADDDYCOMEBACK-DAD DYCOMEBACK-COMEBACKDADDY. I pointed my flashlight at the end of the room revealing something that made me realize rotten vegetables weren't the only things giving off a bad smell. At the foot of one of the shelves a small body was curled into a ball and was lying on the floor. The sight made my stomach squirm as I tried not to gag. I pulled out one of the socks and covered my face as I stepped closer to the body.
He looked no older than ten, his face was pale and smeared with red paint, his black hair matted and disheveled, and his eyes were a dead murky grey. All of a sudden, my stomach turned and the side of my head was enflamed in pain. I fell back into the shelves and grabbed on to them as a balance. I shut my eyes and in my head I could see a man standing at the front door, he gave me one last glare before walking out. Pain surged throughout my chest as I felt hot tears roll down my cheeks. I opened my eyes and pulled myself back into the storage room. A sob escaped my throat as I began to curl up, but a familiar shock ran through my head as that voice buzzed in my mind.
Pull yourself together.
I had no choice but to obey, I was so close; just grab a few supplies and I was out of this mausoleum. Getting back up onto my feet, I curled my fingers the handle of the duffle bag and began gathering food from the shelves. Taking the canned foods from here felt wrong, it was the same as a grave robbery, I felt like at any moment something terrible would spring from the boy's body and take its vengeance upon me for violating its final resting place, like from sort of horror story. Luckily none that happened, just the deafening silence pounding against my ears.
I stood at the door, staring down at the corpse, there was nothing I could do except share my dearest empathy and close the door. Locking the door, I turned around and a walked towards the exit, determined never to look back. Yet something a sharp metallic grey caught my eye, sitting on the kitchen counter was a knife. I stopped for a second and grabbed it, then walked out the door.
The knife in my hand, gave me a sickening sense of security. So this is how the world is from now on, I thought to myself. I didn't fully grasp what everything had gone too until I saw that curled body, from now on survival is only guaranteed for those who are willing take the lives of others if it means they get to see the next day, if you don't well that's just too bad.
The halls were abandoned, whatever was here before left in a hurry, possibly from my previous blunder. Luckily enough, nothing I encountered gave me reason to use my newly acquired weapon. I pulled open the Emergency Exit door and climbed up the flight of stairs. Even though I searched everywhere from top to bottom I still wasn't able to find a pair of shoes, but I didn't care, all I wanted to do was to head back up to room 236 and be done with the day, I've had enough of this world for now. Howe ever this thought was quickly banished from my mind as I saw a sprawled corpse on the stairs. Bullet wounds pierced through its chest and blood had trickled down each step. I immediately began running up the stairs until the familiar sign of F6 told me I was on the right floor. I busted through the door as the sight of dozens upon dozens of bodies lied across the hall floor. All of them suffered from shot wounds, telling me that those gunshots I heard earlier probably belonged to whoever mowed through these infected.
I ran down the hall, nearly missing the sign that read: 236. I wrenched open the door only to find the room was empty, and was long since been abandoned. "God damn it, where did she go?" I asked out loud. Then sickening thought formed in my head. What if they took her? Or even worse had her shot? I scanned the dead corpses in the hallway; none of them seemed to be her, which was somewhat of a relief.
That relief was short lived, as I heard the cries of the undead around the corner. An entire horde of infected turned the corner and spotted me, cries of rage emanated from the wave of people. With that I turned around and ran for my life.
AN: Well then, I'm starting to make a bad habit out of being late. This time though as soon as I began to write this chapter life decided to throw a whole load of different things at me like, school, plans I don't remember making, birthdays, ect. So yes I apologize for the late chapter (bit of a longer one than usual), and I promise I will to the best of my abilities post a new chapter next weekend (fingers crossed.)