A hand grasped her shoulder. “Amy?”
She looked up into her brother’s face and sobbed with relief. “Alex!”
“Are you hurt?” he asked. Acting like a shield, he helped her to get to her feet.
“A little,” she said, not wanting to alarm him.
“Can you run?”
“I think so,” she replied, gingerly testing her twisted ankle. It hurt, but she thought she could continue.
With a growl of anger, he bulldozed his way ahead, one arm around Amy’s shoulders. Overhead, a couple of lights flickered back on as the generators kicked in, but they were barely strong enough to light the way. Still, it was better than nothing, and they set off toward the infirmary once more.
It was one mile to get to the hospital, but to Amy, it felt like ten. Every step sent a jab of pain up her injured leg, her chest twinged with every breath she took, and her left hand was swollen and tender. With a muttered curse her mother would not have approved of, she forced herself to keep moving. They had to get to Dylan.
“Come on. We’re almost there,” Alex said as they left the last of the tents behind.
To their right loomed the building that housed the communal kitchen and common room. It had been hastily converted to serve the burgeoning number of survivors that fled to the Fort’s gates. The infirmary lay just ahead, and Amy sped up as hope filled her heart. We’re going to make it!
Suddenly, a burst of gunfire tore through the night. With a cry, Alex yanked her to the ground as bullets cut through the air overhead. “Get down.”
In the distance, muffled booms rocked the night, the vibrations traveling through the earth and up their spines. A flare shot into the sky and hung there like a beacon of death. It cast a surreal glow over the scene below.
Out of the murk, a careening figure appeared, howling like a banshee. Without pause, Alex aimed his rifle and fired off a couple of shots. The crazed person jerked several times then plowed to the ground mere feet away.
Amy stared at the body. “Is that a…a…you know?”
“Zombie,” Alex said. “They’re inside. We have to hurry.”
He hauled her back to her feet and ran in a low crouch, which she tried to copy. Now and then, he’d stop and blast away at an incoming infected before continuing further. The noise was deafening — a hellish mixture of screams, howls, gunfire, explosions, and the ever-present sirens.
Finally, when Amy thought she couldn’t take anymore, they reached the entrance to the infirmary. The guards were missing, and the doors wide open. A smear of blood coated one pane of glass, and she prayed that Dylan was alright. Please. She’s my friend. I need her to be okay.
“Be careful,” Alex cautioned. “We don’t know how many’s inside already.”
“I’m ready. Let’s do this,” Amy said, gathering together the shreds of her courage. She would be brave for her friends and family. She had to.
Together, they braved the echoing halls of the infirmary. The lights flickered above their heads, giving it a ghoulish feel, and an occasional smear of blood marred the tiled floor. Alex stayed one step ahead, his shoulders tensed and ready. They passed several closed doors, storage rooms, and such before they reached the entrance to the waiting room.
Alex moved toward it but stopped abruptly with a startled cry. “Holy shit.”
Amy peered around his bulk and sucked in a deep breath. The scene in front of her came straight from a horror movie, the stuff of nightmares.
In the middle of the room stood a pale apparition in a short hospital gown. In her hands, she gripped an ax, and her dark hair obscured her face. The scent of copper hung heavy in the atmosphere, mixed with the stench of feces and bile. Strewn around her bare feet lay the remains of several bodies: Arms, legs, heads, and torsos.
There was more blood than Amy had ever seen before in her life. It dripped from the woman’s hair and ax, streaked her limbs, and drenched her clothes. It pooled around her feet, a lake of crimson death.
Then Alex uttered a single sentence, and Amy couldn’t believe what he was saying. She couldn’t reconcile the image in front of her with the friend she knew and loved. It was impossible.
He said, “Dylan? Is that you?”
Chapter 4 - Alex
Alex stared at the woman in front of him, unable to believe it was her. Yet, it had to be. He recognized the shape of her body, the long legs, the set of her shoulders, and red hair, though it was hard to tell if it was red or just coated in blood. “Dylan? Is that you?”
The woman raised a blank face to him, and their eyes met. It was Dylan. For several moments, nothing happened, and Alex began to wonder if she’d finally turned. Maybe the cure hadn’t worked, after all. Then she nodded, though she didn’t speak or move.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
Still no answer.
Alex reached out a tentative hand and stepped forward. His boot came down on something hard, and he heard an audible pop. He lifted his foot and looked down at the remains of an eyeball.
Vomit rose in his throat, and he swallowed hard. A limbless torso with its guts hanging out lay next to it, and he quickly looked away. Never had he seen such a scene of wanton destruction in his life. His eyes lifted to the ax in Dylan’s hands. A fat droplet of blood formed on the blade before it
