“I think so, ma’am, but I’m sure the soldiers will sort it out. In the meantime, stay inside and block the doors,” Dylan said with more confidence than she felt. “I’ll go have a look outside and find out what’s happening.”
The woman eyed the ax in Dylan’s hands and nodded. “Alright, but be careful.”
“I will, ma’am. Thanks.”
The woman disappeared back into the ward, and the noise of dragging furniture sounded soon after. At least, they were following her instructions, and it should keep them safe for the time being.
Dylan turned away and looked down the hall. Going back to her room served no purpose. There was nothing there that she could use. No clothes. No weapons. Nothing. Nor did she feel like cowering behind its door, waiting for the inevitable. That left the nursing station. “There’s got to be someone there. Or something I can use, at least.”
With slow steps, Dylan walked down the hall with the ax held ready to strike. The lights dipped in and out, alternating between utter darkness and a feeble glow. Her pulse quickened as her brain imagined terrifying horrors lurking around every corner. Her tongue darted out to touch her dry lips, and goosebumps pebbled her arms.
Finally, she reached the end of the passage. A set of double doors were propped wide open and led to a small waiting room. She peered into the murky space beyond the opening. Chairs lined the walls, and a coffee table sported a couple of dog-eared magazines. Her destination, the nursing station, lay to the far left. It was a simple counter bolted to the wall and topped with computer monitors.
Dylan narrowed her gaze, studying the space with minute attention. Not a single person was in sight, and nothing seemed out of place, but instinct warned her that she wasn’t alone. Gripping the ax tightly, she walked toward the station, placing each foot with care. Thick carpet replaced the cold tiles, muffling her footsteps. As she drew closer, low grunts and snuffling met her ears. It sounded like a pig feeding at a trough.
With supreme reluctance, Dylan edged around the corner of the counter. Her foot landed in a thick puddle of fluid, and she froze. Her eyes darted down, and bile rose up her throat as the lights flickered on again.
Blood.
She was standing in a pool of blood.
She lifted her gaze, and they fixed on the crooked figure of a man hunched over the lifeless body of George. The former guard stared at her, mute in death, while the zombie tugged at his guts with curved fingers. Beyond them lay the head nurse, her uniform no longer white but crimson. Her throat gaped open, the bones of her spine shining through the tendrils of torn flesh and sinew.
Dylan stared at the tableau of horror for several seconds, not daring to breathe. The zombie was right in front of her, so close she could reach out and touch him. With infinite care, she lifted the ax above her head. At the last second, the soaked carpet beneath her foot squelched when her weight shifted.
The infected man whirled around and snarled. As quick as a striking snake, he leaped. Before she could blink, he was on her, and they tumbled to the ground in a whirl of arms and legs.
Dylan hit the ground hard, and the air left her lungs in a pained exhalation. She held onto the ax with both hands, desperate to keep the zombie at bay. He wriggled on top of her, his teeth snapping at her face, and his fingers clutched at her shoulders.
Twisting to the side, she kneed him in the ribs, dislodging him for a brief second. As he lost his grip, she smashed the ax into his mouth. A couple of teeth broke from the impact, sending the infected into a frenzy of vicious snarls. Blood and spit sprayed across her face, but she couldn’t back down.
With the ax head clamped between his jaws, she wrestled the zombie to the side and got one foot underneath her. She ducked when he swung at her head, and his fist narrowly missed her temple. Another hit landed on her shoulder, and she grunted from the force of the blow. Her arm went numb but dared not let up for even a millisecond.
Dylan pulled back her weapon and struck again, using all of her strength. The zombie fell backward, his mouth a gaping hole filled with shattered fangs. The moment she was free, she brought the ax down on his head. At the same time, he lunged upward. The blade sunk into his forehead with a dull thunk, and his eyes rolled back in their sockets. For a single, breathless moment, they were suspended in the act of death. Then the ax slid free, and the infected collapsed to the floor, still at last.
Dylan scrambled to her feet, breathing hard. The fight had taken its toll, and her limbs quivered with exhaustion. The stitches on her forearm burned beneath the bandages. Hopefully, they were still intact, unlike her nerves. “Holy shit, I can’t believe it. I’m still alive.”
But movement caught the edge of her vision, and she turned, her heart jumping in her throat. Next to the counter stood George. His eyes were as black as night, and his hands were curled into fists the size of dinner plates. Behind him, the head nurse was getting to her feet, her head swaying back and forth on her ravaged neck. Both honed in on her fragile form with predatory instinct. Their lips peeled back, and they roared with insane hunger.
In that instant, Dylan knew she was as good as dead. Rage took the place of fear. If she was going to die, she might as well go down fighting. She raised the ax and screamed with defiance. “Come on, you fucking zombies! Show me what you’ve got!”
Chapter 2 - Tara
Tara blinked at the computer screen. The letters blurred in front of her face,
