The Killing Floor

many people survived the first days of the epidemic. The disease took the ones you loved, and then put on their face, demanding you kill them or die yourself. You have seconds to make this decision.: How would you choose?

The threat of this choice is neverending. It can be forced on you at any time. It is the plague’s greatest weapon.

They follow the squad out the back of the Bradley and fan out. After a few minutes of squatting in the heat, Wendy realizes they are looking at her.

“It’s your show,” she tells them, shaking her head. “I’m just tagging along.”

She remembers driving in the back of the Bradley during the first days of the epidemic with Paul, Ethan, Todd and Anne, warring with Anne for leadership of the gang. She was a police officer, and felt it was her responsibility to take care of the others.

Later, marching down a desolate highway in a blizzard of ash falling from the fires of Pittsburgh, she realized she was not a cop anymore. Her precinct was gone, and so was her city with its courts and jails and laws. She had no responsibility to anyone except a detective named Dave Carver, the man who saved her life when the Infected overran her precinct, and that responsibility did not require her to help others, only survive.

Charlie Noel nods and whistles at his shooters, who stand as one and follow, rifles leveled. They look and act like professional warriors, but just a few months ago, Charlie was a traffic cop, Stu Guthrie a bartender, Sharon Yang a paramedic and Ana Cruz an architect. Infection has gone on for so long it is the past that now seems like a dream, not the nightmarish present.

They briefly inspect a pile of bodies rotting away in the hot sun in front of one of the gym doors, partly open and covered in scratch marks and blood splatter. The stench is powerful. They raise handkerchiefs, soaked with cologne, to cover the bottoms of their faces.

“Where are you going?” Toby asks her.

Wendy squats by some nearby shrubs and urinates.

“Told you I had to go,” she grins.

On the road, privacy is a dangerous luxury. If you want to be alone, you will eventually die alone.

Stepping over the bodies, Noel shoves at the door. “There’s something blocking it.” He shoves again and a pile of furniture, stacked behind the door to block it, comes crashing down.

Steve sighs and blows air from his cheeks.

“Let’s do this quick,” Wendy says, gnawing her gum.

“More bodies here,” Noel says, disappearing inside. “Watch your step.”

Wendy follows the others into the gym, ignoring the corpses’ splayed hands brushing against her legs, and gasps at the assault of heat and smell. Their boots send empty shell casings clattering across the floor.

The flashlights converge on the bodies of four men and women, three dressed in casual clothes and one in a police uniform. All shot in the head and partially eaten. Wendy stoops and collects the cop’s badge, pocketing it. Her eleventh, counting her own.

Noel signals his shooters to fan out and clear the room. They call from the dark corners: All clear. No Infected here.

Wendy approaches the other side of the gym, followed by Toby and Steve. The play of their flashlights reveals more giant red bleeding capitals painted on the wall:

GOD FORGIVE US WE TRIED TO SAVE THEM

At the base of the wall, twenty small children lie in a row, all dead from gunshot wounds.

¦

From what Wendy can see, the children were lined up facing the wall and executed. Sickened by the sight, they turn off their flashlights and stand in the dark.

“Jesus,” Noel says, catching up. “Who would do such a thing to them?”

“They did it to themselves,” Toby answers.

“You mean the cop? But why?”

“They were under siege,” Wendy murmurs. “During the first day of the epidemic. Some of the schools had just reopened after the Screaming, remember? They barricaded themselves in with these kids.”

“The Infected found out they were in here and started to force their way through the outside door,” Steve chimes in. “There must have been a lot of them. Too many to keep out. Too many to fight. The Infected must have been in the school too. These people were trapped.”

“The cop held them off until it seemed hopeless, then he shot the kids so they wouldn’t be eaten, while the teachers held the doors closed,” Toby says. “It was a mercy killing.”

“Probably made a game of it,” Wendy adds. “Turn around and close your eyes and don’t open them no matter how loud the pistol shot next to you.”

“And then he killed the teachers and himself,” Toby finishes. “Right at the door so the Infected would eat them and spare the children from even that.”

“It’s horrible,” Wendy says.

“I don’t want the others to see this,” Noel says, his voice cracking.

“Everyone out,” Toby calls across the gym. “Back to the rig. Come on, let’s go.”

Guthrie, Yang and Cruz take the hint and file out blinking into the harsh sunlight. They are not curious to see what the others saw. They have already seen their share of bad things.

“My kids,” Noel says. He does not finish the sentence. He sobs once, wipes his eyes roughly, and turns to follow the others.

“There’s nothing we can do here,” Toby says. “Might as well get back on the road.”

“Hey, one’s alive!” Noel says.

Wendy puts her hand against his chest. “None of them are alive, Charlie. They’re all dead.”

“I saw one moving!” He aims his flashlight, but she steps in front of him, blocking his view.

“You saw a trick of the light. That’s it.”

“Just let me check. I need to be sure.”

“No. Go back to the rig. You don’t want to see a dead girl.”

“But you might be wrong,” Noel says, his eyes wild. He turns to Steve, his voice pleading. “I saw her move. I need to make sure she’s not still alive.”

“I’ll check,” Steve says. He turns on his flashlight, and just as quickly turns it off. “Wendy’s right, Charlie. The girl is dead. I’m sorry, man. Come on, I’ll go with you.”

Wendy listens to their footsteps echoing across the empty spaces. She turns to the body of the girl in the pink dress and watches her little face wink and nod in the dark. She knows the face is not moving.

The maggots are. Wendy can hear them rustling.

When she is sure Steve and Noel are gone, she covers her face with her hands and weeps.

¦

Toby wraps his arms around her, but it is not enough this time.

There is nothing here for them except death. They should get back to the Bradley, but Wendy lingers, staring at the blackened bodies of the children and wondering who they were before they were killed and left to rot here in this oversized tomb.

“Are you okay?” Toby whispers, but she does not respond.

Wiping her eyes, she wonders what kind of lives they might have had if they hadn’t died. If the school hadn’t reopened. If they hadn’t come to school that day. If they’d gone to a different school. If Infection had never happened.

So much life needlessly destroyed, like ants crushed by a giant’s foot.

Will I ever have children? she wonders. If I did, would they survive longer than these kids?

Would I one day be forced to tell them to face a wall with a gun in my hand?

“We should go,” Toby says.

I’m done with this fucking war. I mean it this time. I want out.

Shrugging out of his embrace, Wendy points to the corpses.

“Toby, look at this.”

“It’s nothing we haven’t seen before.”