Pink foam sprayed from between the doctor’s gritted teeth as he shook, chewing on his tongue.
After a long, silent period, the seizure stopped. Everyone in the room stared at the man who now lay very still. It didn’t even look like he was breathing.
Ms. MacNeil put her hand on his forehead again, then turned back to the room. “Someone get me a blanket, he’s freezing!”
No one else moved, so, still staring at the doctor, Nicole pulled a blanket from a cot. She brought it to the teacher who laid it over the doctor. “Thank you, Nicole.”
Nicole nodded and backed away, back to her brother.
Ms. MacNeil tucked the man in, making sure that he was completely covered, and placed her hand on his head again, then to his throat to check his pulse. A look of shock went across her face. She pulled the man’s hand out of the blanket and held it. More shock. She looked up and smiled weirdly at the kids on the bed, then looked toward the couple who were now both on the floor with her. She made a gesture for them to come closer. They apprehensively crawled over and the teacher whispered something to them, keeping an eye on the others in the room.
The young woman jerked back. “Oh my God!”
“What?” shouted the bloody-nosed man.
“He’s dead,” exclaimed the young woman, scrambling away from the body.
“What the hell is going on here?!” bellowed the bloody-nosed man.
“We have to stay calm!” Ms. MacNeil called out over the others.
“I don’t think we have time to stay calm!” said the bloody-nosed man.
“Why don’t you—”
“Daddy?”
Everyone stopped. The voice had come from Ryan, who knelt next to the cot from which Nicole had taken the blanket. When she saw the hand dangling from the remaining blankets, Nicole realized too late that they had been covering Ryan’s father’s body.
Ryan inched closer, taking his father’s dead hand. “Daddy?”
Nicole started toward the small, confused boy. She could feel tears welling up. “Ryan, you should—” She stopped when she saw the hand move. She jumped when the hand grabbed Ryan’s arm.
Clearly in pain, Ryan pulled against his father’s grip. As he did so, the rest of the blankets covering the man fell away. His face was soaked—partially with sweat, but mostly from blood that looked like it had been cried out. He growled, just like the people downstairs had. Like Carol. Nicole saw the same dead, white eyes. Only he wasn’t looking at her. He was looking at Ryan. He gave a wet, slimy growl as he pulled Ryan’s small hand toward his mouth.
Nicole rushed over to yank him away, but his father had a death-grip on the boy’s arm. Ryan screamed. Nicole yelled, “Let him go!” and kicked the man’s arm. She felt his elbow bend the wrong way at a gruesome angle. He should have screamed in pain, but it didn’t faze him. He kept growling and pulling himself toward his son, eyeing him with a dark look of hunger.
“Jesus Christ!” shouted the bloody-nosed man, rushing at Ryan’s father and grabbing him by the shoulders as he tried to get up. Ryan’s father looked at the man and growled again before lunging and biting him hard in the face.
Blood spurted. The man screamed. He brought his fists down on his attacker’s back and head, but Ryan’s father bit and chewed like a wild animal. After a few seconds, the bloody-noseless man’s screams became watery and then stopped completely. He fell to the floor, dark blood pouring from what was left of his face.
Ryan’s father, covered in the other man’s blood, tried to stand. He took a step toward Nicole and Ryan as she dragged the stunned boy away; his leg bent at a similar angle to his arm. His shattered shin bone broke through his pant leg with a muffled tear and crunch. He fell with a thud, but his hungry eyes never left his son. He pushed himself up using his broken arm, which was now bent all the way back, still moving forward.
The young woman fainted and her boyfriend vomited at the sight of this man—this thing—crawling across the floor toward them. Nicole swallowed, holding back her own bile.
“Oh my God,” someone said behind her in a squealing whisper.
She turned and saw that the doctor—the man who had just been declared dead—was looking around, growling, sounding just like the thing that had been Ryan’s father. More foam came from his mouth as he struggled to get up from the blankets tucked around him so well.
They were surrounded.
Nicole looked back and forth, over the head of the whimpering Ryan. No one could do anything. The young man tried to wake his girlfriend who was still on the floor, unconscious; the bloody-nosed man wasn’t moving at all—probably dead; but for how long? Ms. MacNeil tried to keep the formerly dead doctor under control and under the blanket. David ...
David! He wasn’t on the bed they had been sitting on.
Frantically she looked around the room. He had to be there—the door was still barricaded.
“David!” she screamed through her tears.
The only sounds were the young man shaking his girlfriend, repeating, “Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.” The growls from the two men who should be dead grew louder as they neared their prey. It was only a matter of time—
“Nicole!” she heard from behind her.
She spun quickly, practically flinging Ryan as he now lay limply sobbing in her arms. David stood on the back counter next to a shaky-looking stack of milk crates. He looked oddly calm as he started climbing the stack. “Come on!” he said, as he approached the window. His impromptu ladder wobbled, but he pushed the window open. She had no idea when he had put the stack together, but she didn’t have long to think about it.
She screamed as the Ryan’s-father thing grabbed her ankle. A rush of panic overwhelmed her. I caused this. All of this. These people ... they were trying to help and
