Hell, it might be a good thing for her. Joan looked overat Clara, feeling an odd sense of possession. That was her friend. How long hadit been since she had been able to say that? College maybe? Even then, thosehad been friends of convenience. We go to the same college, so we might as wellgrab a drink after class. Once they had graduated and gone their separate ways,there had never been any thought of staying in touch.
Joan was a self-absorbed individual. She always had been.Becoming a doctor was just about all she had ever dreamed of. Even when she washelping people, it wasn't actually about helping people. It was about solving apuzzle. How do I make this human operational again?
It would have continued like that until she was an oldcreepy cat lady if it wasn't for the mess that they were currently in. But nowshe had a friend. Now she had people to talk to. They were all messed up, butthey were all sort of together, working for the same cause. That was a comfortablething, a good thing, and she reminded herself that she wasn't necessarilyperfect either.
She didn't like the pain, but that was part of the deal,the good with the bad, the feeling of belonging with the feeling of loss whensomeone had died. Watching Mort gun down Blake was something that was going tostick with her for the rest of her life. Not because it had been brutal, whichit had, but because of the pain that Mort had to go through. That was thetoughest part; watching Mort end it all and say goodbye to his friend.
Joan looked over her shoulder and saw Blake's bodyleaning up against the metal machinery on the roof. Mort sat next to him,whispering in his ear. Joan quickly spun her head forward and looked up at thesky. "Not much longer now," she said to no one in particular.
"Are you in a hurry to get out here?" Katiesaid.
"No. I'm just not very good at waiting."
"That's all life is, girl. Just waiting to die andfilling up the moments in between."
Joan scoffed at the idea. "You haven't been livingif that's all you think life is."
"Oh really? Then what do you call getting married,having a kid, and surviving this long?" Katie asked.
"Jeez. Forget I said anything," Joan said.Katie walked off, peering over the side of the building. That lady was crazy;Joan was sure of it. She had been extremely moody ever since they had becometrapped inside the building. Her eyes, normally dark, seemed almost black setamidst her brooding face. Katie was ready to kill. She actually seemed to be looking forward to it.
Out of everyone, Katie seemed the most out of place. Shesimply didn't belong. She didn't smile. She didn't have a sense of humor. Allshe did was walk around with that gun of hers, ready to shoot dead anythingthat she judged a threat. Joan wondered if she had always been that way. Thewoman didn't talk much about her past, and Joan wondered if she ever would.
She was damaged goods. She had seen the type before inthe E.R., those women with that gun-shy look in their eye, their hulking,looming husbands standing next to them, making sure that they said the rightthing. Of course, the right thing was almost always some bullshit story that simplydidn't stand up to inspection. The more troubling ones were the women who justsat there and said nothing having given up on their lives long ago. That wasKatie.
"Alright, it's time," Lou said.
Mort stood up and walked over to the bloated corpse of thezoo employee. They had never discovered her name. In her pockets, she hadnothing but a pocket knife. She was a complete mystery to them. Had she beenfeeding the polar bears? Or had they been eating the dead of their ownvolition?
Mort bent down and grabbed her underneath her shoulders,propping the stiff body into a sitting position. Lou grabbed the dead woman bythe feet, and they began to swing her from side to side, her body bowed in themiddle. Lou counted down from three, and at zero, they tossed her body off theroof. Joan watched as, for a moment, she hung suspended perfectly in mid-air,her bloody hair hanging extended outwards as if it were trying to escape herskull, her legs trailing behind her front half, and her arms lifted slightly upto the sky as if she were beseeching the heavens above to come and collect her.
Then the body was falling, and below they heard a thump.The banging on the side of the gift shop decreased immediately. Shuffling feetcrunched over the trampled foliage surrounding the building, cool ferns andnatural Oregon plants crushed underneath the mindless feet of the dead. Joanstood next to the others and poked her head over the side of the roof to seedown.
She didn't look for long, but it was long enough, as oneof the dead squatted down and placed its two hands over the dead woman'sabdominal cavity. Like a man trying to open a bear trap, the dead man pulledwith all of its might. When the skin of the woman's stomach ripped open, shestopped watching. The other's backed away as well.
They stood listening waiting for the sign that it wastime to go. The pounding on the gift shop stopped altogether. Now there wasonly the sickening sound of wet flesh being chewed and shredded, of teethripping cartilage and chomping on bone. It was time to go.
Without even thinking about it, the survivors all ran asone, jumping off the two story building and into a grassy patch of landscapingoff to the side of the gift shop. It was a two-story fall, but it was softenedby the dewy grass and the rain-softened ground, still damp from the storm thathad moved through a couple of nights before.
Joan landed without grace, hitting
