from behind the doors, and if the state of my own building was any indication, this place was vacant too. Of life, that is.
In the middle of that thought, a soft whisper of air against the back of my neck and the sudden, quiet presence of another body made me jerk upright. My neck cringed in anticipation of a sudden jarring bite, and I froze in terror.
“Say something.” Then a loud click.
Relief flooded washed over me like warm water; recognizing that I at least had a chance with a living human, my baser instincts took over. I had always been a smart ass. Family, friends, teachers-anyone that knew me growing up remembered me for that. Not a good heart, or a kind soul, but a smart-ass punk kid. In a situation like this, you go with that first, wise-ass instinct. You stick with your roots.
“You got a spare pair of shorts?”
A pregnant pause, and then a woman’s voice and a breath of air against my neck as she chuckled. I turned around and faced her. She wore a stylish pants suit, much the worse for wear, covered by a white lab coat with spots of red and gray sprinkling the chest. Her name tag read Katherine Whitmore, followed by “M.D. Psychiatry”, all in that same corny, loopy lettering they use to embroider hospital clothing.
Crap. You gotta be fucking kidding me!
Of all the psych wards in all zombie-invasions of the world, I get one that was still staffed by a damn doctor; a shrink no less. Why couldn’t I have come out from my hole into a strip club or a pole dancing academy. After putting in my time, was that too much to ask? And maybe a beer…I would kill for a beer.
“Get many tourists this way, or am I your first?” I asked, snapping back to reality and hoping for another laugh while I searched the hallway for signs of more activity or people. She kept her eyes trained on my face, flicking her gaze once to my chest. Her look was curious and slightly confused. She was tall, almost my height, and very attractive. Her brown hair, disheveled by what must have been a day’s worth of running or fighting, fell around her shoulders. A pair of ratty sneakers, clearly not part of the original outfit, stuck out from the rest of the ensemble.
“You’re my first…Joe,” she replied with a slight somehow knowing grin, tucking the small, snub-nosed revolver in her lab coat pocket. I started, suppressing the urge to look over my shoulder for Joe… until I looked down and remembered the nametag sewn proudly over my chest. Right, I was Joe. No problem.
She looked past me. “You alone?”
“Yeah, so far. What’s going on here?” I belatedly added, “Doctor.”
“It’s Kate,” she said, walking past me.
“And to be honest, you got me; I’m just trying to get through the next hour.” She turned around, gesturing forward for me to follow.
“We’d better move back. There are more of those things in the next hall over, and the mops and brooms we stuck through the cafeteria door handle aren’t going to last long.”
She nodded her head to the right, and I followed her down the hall and around the corner, where I could see at the end of the adjoining hall a waiting area, occupied by three other people: a young man, an older man, and a young woman, who sat in various states of disarray.
“Where’d you come from?” she asked over her shoulder as we walked, “We thought we were on our own. We’ve been holed up in the cafeteria for the last three days, but we had to run when those things broke in through the kitchen. I was just looking for some food before we tried to get out of here.”
Three days? Jesus! That must have been some fucking cocktail they served me last night. Rather, two nights ago.
“I, uh, was doing maintenance in the halls below ground and got stuck in the halls below the boiler room. Lost my keys.” She had never been down there, how would she know what was or wasn’t possible, right?
“Should have stayed down there, apparently,” I said, believing every word.
“Do
In the middle of that thought, a soft whisper of air against the back of my neck and the sudden, quiet presence of another body made me jerk upright. My neck cringed in anticipation of a sudden jarring bite, and I froze in terror.
“Say something.” Then a loud click.
Relief flooded washed over me like warm water; recognizing that I at least had a chance with a living human, my baser instincts took over. I had always been a smart ass. Family, friends, teachers-anyone that knew me growing up remembered me for that. Not a good heart, or a kind soul, but a smart-ass punk kid. In a situation like this, you go with that first, wise-ass instinct. You stick with your roots.
“You got a spare pair of shorts?”
A pregnant pause, and then a woman’s voice and a breath of air against my neck as she chuckled. I turned around and faced her. She wore a stylish pants suit, much the worse for wear, covered by a white lab coat with spots of red and gray sprinkling the chest. Her name tag read Katherine Whitmore, followed by “M.D. Psychiatry”, all in that same corny, loopy lettering they use to embroider hospital clothing.
Crap. You gotta be fucking kidding me!
Of all the psych wards in all zombie-invasions of the world, I get one that was still staffed by a damn doctor; a shrink no less. Why couldn’t I have come out from my hole into a strip club or a pole dancing academy. After putting in my time, was that too much to ask? And maybe a beer…I would kill for a beer.
“Get many tourists this way, or am I your first?” I asked, snapping back to reality and hoping for another laugh while I searched the hallway for signs of more activity or people. She kept her eyes trained on my face, flicking her gaze once to my chest. Her look was curious and slightly confused. She was tall, almost my height, and very attractive. Her brown hair, disheveled by what must have been a day’s worth of running or fighting, fell around her shoulders. A pair of ratty sneakers, clearly not part of the original outfit, stuck out from the rest of the ensemble.
“You’re my first…Joe,” she replied with a slight somehow knowing grin, tucking the small, snub-nosed revolver in her lab coat pocket. I started, suppressing the urge to look over my shoulder for Joe… until I looked down and remembered the nametag sewn proudly over my chest. Right, I was Joe. No problem.
She looked past me. “You alone?”
“Yeah, so far. What’s going on here?” I belatedly added, “Doctor.”
“It’s Kate,” she said, walking past me.
“And to be honest, you got me; I’m just trying to get through the next hour.” She turned around, gesturing forward for me to follow.
“We’d better move back. There are more of those things in the next hall over, and the mops and brooms we stuck through the cafeteria door handle aren’t going to last long.”
She nodded her head to the right, and I followed her down the hall and around the corner, where I could see at the end of the adjoining hall a waiting area, occupied by three other people: a young man, an older man, and a young woman, who sat in various states of disarray.
“Where’d you come from?” she asked over her shoulder as we walked, “We thought we were on our own. We’ve been holed up in the cafeteria for the last three days, but we had to run when those things broke in through the kitchen. I was just looking for some food before we tried to get out of here.”
Three days? Jesus! That must have been some fucking cocktail they served me last night. Rather, two nights ago.
“I, uh, was doing maintenance in the halls below ground and got stuck in the halls below the boiler room. Lost my keys.” She had never been down there, how would she know what was or wasn’t possible, right?
“Should have stayed down there, apparently,” I said, believing every word.
“Do
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