Clara rose from the bed, hopping along the linoleum floorof the office on her sprained ankle. The swelling was bad, but Joan didn'tthink there was anything structurally wrong with it. It would merely slow herdown at a time when being slowed down was the last thing a person would want.Clara leaned over Joan's shoulder, her morning breath forming a miasma thathung in the air. It was an unpleasant smell, but considering the situation,Joan didn't feel like making a big deal about it. Joan also had a feeling thather own breath was probably not the most wonderful thing in the world either.
"No change, huh?" Clara asked.
Joan shook her head. Then she broached the topic that hadbeen on her mind since she had awoken. "We have to leave."
Clara laughed a little bit, until she saw the look onJoan's face. "You're serious? Fuck that. We go out there, and we're goingto get torn to shreds by those things."
Joan shook her head. "I know. I know what's out thereand how it will likely end up, but look at the alternative. If we stay here,what happens? Best case scenario, we die from dehydration, hoping that someonewill come and rescue us. If the power goes out, we're going to be locked inhere. We'd never even know if someone did come to rescue us. If we wait muchlonger, we'll be too weak to fight our way out of here. We don't have time towaste."
Clara laughed. "If you're trying to make the casefor me to kill myself, you're going to have to try harder than that."
Joan looked at Clara. She was right. Walking out thatdoor was suicide, but so was staying inside. Slow death by dehydration or aquick one by cannibalism, it was a hell of a choice to make. "I'd ratherrisk it all than sit here waiting for the inevitable."
Clara sat down on the floor, her head against the wall."I wish I had a cigarette."
"Now there's something that will kill you,"Joan said.
Clara stood up, sighed, and dusted off her jeans."Well, cigarettes aren't just going to come walking in here on their own.I guess we ought to try. What's the plan?"
****
The door popped open with a click, and the creature onthe other side of the door hesitated. It had been banging on the door for solong that it was almost as if it had no idea what to do next now that theobstruction was gone. It didn't have to think for long. Plastic keys clatteredon the hard floor as Clara brought a computer keyboard crashing down on theman's face. The former quarantine officer was massive, and the keyboard did notslow his advance. Behind him, more of the infected were drawn to the commotion.
Time was important now. If they were slowed here, theywere as good as dead. The keys of the keyboard crunched under her feet as Clarastepped sideways. Joan stepped up to fill the void, and she smashed thesecurity guard across the face with the metal chair legs that they hadliberated from the single office chair in their would-be tomb. It was anunwieldy thing, harder to use than the keyboard, but its starfish shape andsolid metal construction gave it more of an impact. The guard fell to theground, and they hopped over him.
Over the hours that they had slept, the quarantine wardhad emptied somewhat. There were less infected, but there were still enoughthere to turn the hallway into a deadly obstacle course. They ran across thefoyer, just like they had discussed, stooping to pick up the discarded weaponsof the overrun quarantine detail, guns that they had no idea how to use. Still,they would make better bludgeons than a chair leg or a cheap plastic keyboard.
Clara liked the feel of the metal in her hand. Its weightwas reassuring. She aimed the gun at one of the infected, and pulled thetrigger. Nothing happened, so she reversed the weapon and swung it like abaseball bat at a female quarantine officer, her face torn to shreds, and herbiohazard suit splattered with blood that was in mid-coagulation. The impactwas satisfying, the crunch loud and solid. The female quarantine officer fellto the ground, and Clara readied for another swing, but the quarantine officerdidn't get up.
They moved through the double doors at the end of thehallway, Clara limping on her ankle and dodging the outreaching arms of thedead. Clara threw her shoulder into the metal bar of the door, and it flewopen, the metal handle springing back into place with a loud clang. Joanfollowed Clara closely as they moved through the hallway, avoiding theelevators, and making their way to the stairs. The hallway was long, filledwith benches and windows set into alcoves. Several of the infected stood in thehallway, and the two women swatted at them as they grasped for them. All thewhile, they could feel the presence of more infected behind them, slowlymarching towards their position. They had to get out, or they would be trappedforever.
The hallway was stained with gore. Bloody footstepsmarred the carpet, and a pile of guts sat on a bench in one of the alcoves.Clara still couldn't believe that this was happening. Only last night she hadbeen at a punk concert with her future husband. Now he was dead, but stillalive, and the world had been turned upside down while she continued to fightfor her life.
Her thoughts evaporated as one of the undead reached outto her, a patient in a gown that hung down her arms. Her naked, gray body senta wave of revulsion through Clara, and she grasped the gun in both hands,jamming the butt of the rifle into the creature's jaw and sending it sprawling.Ahead of her Joan did the same to an older gentleman with crooked glasses and anarm that had no flesh on it.
