The zombies hadn’t let up for one second. They banged away at the door without pause. The vibrations traveled through the walls and down her spine. In a way, it was kind of soothing, but also prophetic.
At that moment, she realized they were doomed. The infected were tireless, mindless. They would never stop. Not until she and Alex were long dead. Worst of all, she’d go first, and Alex would blame himself.
Amy felt for her gun, her hand closing around the butt. She considered ending it right there, but no. She couldn’t do that to Alex. With a sigh, she let go of the weapon.
The world was turning dark around her, her consciousness fading in and out. Licking her dry lips, Amy whispered, “I’m sorry, Alex, but it’s time I went home to Mom and Dad. They’re waiting for me.”
Her eyes drifted shut, and her head fell onto her chest. One arm flopped to the side, dangling down the step, the fingers as delicate as a child’s. Beside her, the undead continued their relentless barrage while Alex snored softly below, oblivious to the world around him.
Chapter 18 - Alex
When Alex woke up, he couldn’t see a thing. The basement was pitch-black, the kind your eyes couldn’t adjust to no matter what. The floor beneath him was cold, and he found he was shivering. How long was I out?
He sat upright and rubbed his eyes before feeling his way to the couch. His searching hands encountered the lamp, and he tried to switch it back on. Nothing happened, and he guessed the gas had run out. He didn’t know where the other lamps were either.
“Perfect. Just perfect,” he cried before realizing he was being too loud. He didn’t want to wake Amy. She needed her sleep, and he couldn’t alert the infected to their presence either. The stupid things were still up there, not letting up for even one second. I hate zombies.
Alex crawled across the floor in the general direction of their supplies. He’d placed a packet of candles and a box of matches on top of one of the pallets. If he could find it, they could have light again.
“Ah, shit,” Alex cursed in a low voice when he hit his head on the corner of something hard. With one hand pressed to the sore spot, he felt in front of him. It was the pallet, and he soon found the candles. Within seconds, a soft glow lit the area around him. What time is it?
According to his watch, it was six in the morning. He’d slept throughout the long night, and their second day in the basement had dawned.
“No wonder I’m so stiff,” he groaned, rubbing an ache in his back.
He headed toward the toilet and did his business before washing up. He longed for a hot shower or even a cold one. Anything to wash away the sweat and dirt. Yeah, that’s not going to happen.
After completing his ablutions, Alex headed back to their supplies. His stomach rumbled, reminding him that he hadn’t had a decent meal since the night they fled from the horde. Pancakes would’ve been lovely, but he settled for a couple of granola bars, water, and dried fruit and nuts instead.
With an armful of his chosen breakfast, he trudged toward the couch. “Amy? Are you awake? I’ve got food.”
No answer.
He rounded the corner and stopped abruptly. It was empty. Amy was gone, and he hadn’t even heard her get up. “That’s weird. Sis? Are you there?”
Alex whirled in a circle, searching for her but saw nothing in the gloom. The candle only lit a small area which left the rest of the basement in darkness. Dropping the food, he looked for her in earnest.
“Amy, where are you?” he asked as loudly as he dared. When she didn’t answer, he began to panic.
Finally, after fine combing the room, he found her at the top of the stairs. Amy sat with her head slumped onto her chest, one arm dangling to the side. She didn’t move, didn’t even seem to breathe, and for one awful moment, he thought she was dead. “No, no, no. Not you. Not like this.”
Alex bounded up the steps and pressed two fingers to her throat. “Please, be alive. Please, please, please.”
After a couple of seconds, he felt a faint flutter beneath his fingertips: A heartbeat. He sent up a silent prayer of thanks and gathered her into his arms. “Come on, Sis. Let’s get you down from here. I’ll look after you, I promise.”
He laid her on the couch and tapped her cheek, alarmed when she didn’t wake up. “Come on, Amy. You’re scaring me.”
He pressed a palm to her forehead. “Jeez, you’re burning up.” Lifting a lock of her hair, he examined the scratches on her scalp and swore. “Fucking zombies!” The wounds were ugly and inflamed. Green puss oozed from the edges like slime.
Alex sank back onto his heels, at a complete loss. He wasn’t a doctor or a medic. He didn’t know what to do. Even if he did, he lacked the medicine to treat her. The infection had moved beyond the wounds and into her bloodstream.
With shaking hands, he grabbed a clean cloth and the rest of the whiskey. It was all he had. After disinfecting the scratches once more, he tried to coax a few sips of water into her mouth. Her lips were cracked and dry, and he feared she was severely dehydrated.
Throughout it all, Amy remained unresponsive.
With a groan of despair, Alex tore into the stacked supplies. “There has to be something I missed.”
After half an hour of fruitless searching, he admitted defeat. Besides food, water, and toiletries, there was nothing he could use for wounds. With a sense of hopelessness, he pulled up a stool and sat next to the couch. “Amy, please wake up. You can’t give up. You have to fight.”
Amy’s eyelids fluttered open, and her blue eyes stared up at him. “Alex?”
“You’re awake!”
“I’m
