Zeke pulled out the empty clip he had put in his pocketand began thumbing in rounds of ammunition that floated in his other pocket. Hepulled the half-empty clip from the machine gun and did the same as the soundof the first fist on the door hit. More fists followed, and the cheap woodvibrated with the force. When he finished loading the second clip, he saw thatLou had done the same, back against the loveseat and his legs dug into theground, preventing the dead from forcing their way inside.
Zeke ran to the window and threw it open. The apartmentopened on the backside of the building. The ground below was solid concrete,but it was clear. Still, a twenty foot drop was not a thing to be takenlightly. He thought about throwing the mattress out the window to break theirfall, but when a rotten fist punched through the wood of the door, he abandonedthe idea.
"Looks like we're going to have to jump. You want togo first or second?"
"You go. I'll be right behind you."
"You sure you don't want to go first?"
Lou looked at him as if he were from another planet."Man, are you scared?"
Zeke looked out the window. "It's a long waydown."
"Get out that goddamn window, before I shoot youmyself." Zeke smiled at Lou as he threw the window up and leaned out.
Zeke rested his gun on the ground. "Before you jumpout, toss this bad boy down to me. I don't want to damage it in the fall."Lou nodded his head. "Man, that's a long way down," Zeke said as heclimbed out the window. He dropped down, clinging to the windowsill to lessenthe distance that he would have to fall. The cracked and dried paint dug intohis hands. He had the feeling that this was how his life was going to end, andthen he let go, dropping the fifteen feet to the ground. He landed with athump, his heart landed a few seconds later. He was alright, though he stillfelt the impact of the drop in his knees. He looked up in time to see the gunfalling towards him. His hands reacted out of instinct, protecting his facefrom the falling chunk of metal. He managed to catch the gun and not shoothimself in the process. Not too shabby, he thought.
Lou appeared at the window, the gun tucked into hispants. He put his legs out the window first and then sat on the edge. From theground, Zeke read Lou's moving lips. He thought he made out the words,"Fuck this," but he could have been wrong. Lou hesitated and paused,looking up at the sky before he dropped out the window, fear frozen on hisface.
Zeke stepped out of the way. He had seen people make themistake before of trying to catch people jumping from high places. It was agood way to get cracked in the face with an elbow. The last thing he wanted wasfor both of them to be lying on the ground unconscious because they had bashedheads when he tried to catch Lou. So he watched the impact, and moved inquickly to help Lou to his feet.
"You alright?"
Lou was having difficulty catching his breath.
"You alright?" he asked again, looking up atthe window to see arms attached to leering faces snarling down at them.
Zeke dragged Lou down the sidewalk, away from the windowas the first of the dead tumbled down to the ground. Its landing was not asgraceful as Lou's had been, and it smashed it's face into the ground. When itlooked up at them and tried to rise to its feet, its face no longer looked likea face.
They moved away, Lou gasping, while Zeke tugged him alongwith his free hand under Lou's elbow.
"What's wrong with you?"
"My balls. The shock of landing smacked my balls allaround."
"Jesus. You must have some pretty big balls."
"Yeah," he said. "That makes two of us.Where the hell are we going?"
"Beats the shit out of me," Zeke said as theystumbled through the afternoon street, zombies tumbling out of the window likelemmings off a cliff behind them.
Chapter 4: Those Things'll Kill Ya
After they notified the CDC of an impending apocalypse,morale was fairly low. Finding out that the entire world was essentially in thesame boat as they were would naturally have that effect. The stress of theprevious night had washed over them, and they had collapsed into a sleep thatwas fitful, but refreshing. They had slept, waking at every knock on the door,of which there were less and less. When Joan finally sat up, blinking the sleepout of her eyes, everything was just as they had left it.
On the black and white monitors that were their only linkto the outside world, the dead wandered the halls. A former quarantine officerwas plastered to the door of the office they were occupying, his fingersshredded to the bone from scratching at the magnetically sealed door. In thehallways, others shifted about aimlessly, making circuits across the linoleumfloor, as if they were unable to leave. They reminded her of sharks, cold andlifeless, just circling until prey made itself available.
Joan heard Clara stir behind her. She knew that Clarastill harbored an anger that was finely honed and aimed right at her heart.Joan didn't blame her. She watched as Clara stretched, running a hand throughher tangled, caramel brown hair. Her eyes were puffy, and the make-up that hadlooked so great when she had first met her in the emergency room was nowsmeared, giving her an abused appearance. Clara had every right to be angry. Ifit hadn't been for Joan, she would be out on the street. She was strong. Shewas a survivor. But in here, she was trapped. Hopefully, Joan could make it upto her.
Joan's responsibility was finished. She was a doctor of ahospital whose only patients were of the dead variety. The speed with which thehospital had fallen still shocked her. They had been prepared. They had knownhow to deal with this. But knowing and doing are two completely differentthings. For instance, Joan knew that they couldn't stay hidden in the room theywere in indefinitely; there was no
