Glory (Book 1) (7 page)

Chapter 4

Jane walked back into the house. Her daughter had been buried underneath the maple tree.

And she had killed her neighbour's son.

That wasn't really Harold
,
she thought. She didn't know who it was
-
wha
t
is wa
s-
but it wasn't Harold. She thought of his face, smashed. She pushed the image out of her mind.

It wasn't Harold. It wasn't.

She walked into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. She reached in and grabbed the juice container.

Before she took a sip, she stopped and looked at her hand. It was covered in blood. She looked at her other hand. It, too, was soaked. She looked down at her body and couldn't believe how much blood there was.

This can't be real!

She reached down and touched her shirt. It felt wet and sticky. She pulled at it with her fingers. She could feel the moist material against her skin.

She looked back at her hands and, immediately, felt the need to wash them.

Jane put down the juice container and made her way over to the sink. She turned on the faucet. The water started to flow, though lightly. She ran her hands underneath it. Some of the blood washed into the sink. It swirled around before going into the drain. She took some soap and washed away the rest.

It wasn't an easy job. The blood was reluctant to let go. But she was able to get her hands clean. She wiped them on a towel.

Then she thought once more about her clothes. She didn't want all of this blood on her body. Covering her. She should have taken them off first. Now, her hands would just get bloody again. She couldn't believe that she hadn't thought of that first.

She rushed out of the kitchen and ran up to the bathroom. Her feet stumbled a few times on the stairs, but she caught herself from falling and managed to make it.

She entered the bathroom and stripped off all of her clothes. She pulled at her shirt, her pants. They stuck to her, making them hard to take off.

Eventually, she got out of them. She let them sit in a bloody pile in the corner of her room.

Once naked, Jane stood there and didn't move. She felt powerless. Overcome with emotion. So much had happened in the past little while. Now, here she stood, naked. Alone.

She looked down at her body. She ran her fingers down the middle of her breasts and then over her stomach, assuring herself that she was still there. That she had survived.

She looked again at the clothes on the floor. Covered in blood.

In her daughter's blood. And Harold's.

She had killed him
.
I
t
. She knew that it had been a matter of life and death, but that didn't make it any easier to accept.

She turned away from the clothes. She needed to shower.

Jane grabbed at the faucet and turned it on. A light stream of cold water came out of the shower head. Jane didn't mind. She didn't care about hot water. Not at the moment. She hadn't gone into the shower to relax. She had done in there to clean herself.

Cold water would be fin
e
.

She stepped into the shower. When the water hit her, she gasped. It pricked at her skin and hurt. But it also brought her some form of comfort. It was more proof that she was alive.

She felt a slight shiver as she grabbed the soap and began scrubbing herself. She moved her hands vigorously over her body - arms, legs, stomach, back - until her skin began to feel raw.

She stopped and allowed the cold water to wash the darkened suds away.

Next, she moved onto her hair. She grabbed her shampoo and lathered it upon her head. She felt her nails scratch against her scalp. Again, the pain only reminded her that she had survived.

She put her head underneath the weak stream of water. It battered against the top of her head and ran down the front of her face.

Jane washed her face last. She ran her fingers along her nose and forehead, cheeks and chin. This time, she didn't hurt herself. Her touch was soft, gentle. She moved her hands in small circles. Slowly. She thought about how numb her face felt. She didn't know why.

She rinsed it. Then she opened her mouth and took a big sip of water. She spit it out.

When she was finished, Jane continued to stand there. She couldn't move. She barely noticed the cold water anymore. She let it run down over her head, down her body.

She thought about her husband and daughter. She tried to make sense of what had happened, but couldn't. She had absolutely no idea what had caused them to change. And she had no idea why she hadn't.

But that's what had happened. She had been left alone.

She thought about her house. Her and her husband had bought it when she had been pregnant with Becky. They had both been living in the city, but they had wanted a better place to raise their child. They had wanted a yard. A swing set. A tree to hide behind.

She thought about their future together - or what was supposed to have been their future. She could see Becky getting older, having birthday parties, having sleep-overs. Jane might have even retired with Phil in this very house. They could have sat on the porch, drinking coffee, waiting for Becky to come over with her own children
.
Jane's grandchildren.

Her ideas continued to spiral.

Then, all of a sudden, Jane knew what she had to do. She had to leave the house. She couldn't stay there. Not anymore. Not after what had happened.

Where will I go
?
she wondered next.

She didn't spend much time worrying about it. She figured that it didn't really matter. She just needed to get out of there.

Jane turned off the water and got out of the shower. The bathroom was nearly dark. She hadn't known that she had been in the shower for so long. She wasn't even sure what time it was.

She grabbed a towel and dried herself off.  Then she went into her room and looked at her watch on the nightstand. It read nearly 8 o'clock.

How lon
g
ha
d
she been in there?

Jane placed the watch back onto the table. She wouldn't have much need for it anymore. She wouldn't have to worry about when Phil would be home from work or what time she needed to take Becky to the daycare. There were no more appointments. No more meetings. Time didn't matter.

She got out a fresh new pair of clothes to wear and threw a few other things onto the bed. She'd pack them in a backpack later. She had one downstairs in the basement. She'd get it once she got dressed.

Her plan was to leave the next morning. She didn't want to leave at night. Not with those things out there. Not when she didn't know where she was going.

She got dressed. Then she got her backpack and filled it.

After she finished, she laid down onto her bed to go to sleep. But, before she closed her eyes, she looked back over at her bedroom door. She got up and rushed over to it to lock it. Aside from Harold, she hadn't seen or heard anyone...an
y
thin
g
...outside all day. She simply wanted to be careful.

Jane laid back down on the bed. She looked around the room. Her room was dark now. Or dar
k
e
r
. There was some moonlight shining in through her window. Her eyes had also adjusted.

She looked at her closet. The paintings on the wall. Her cabinet.

Beside her bed, on the nightstand, she saw a picture of her and her family. They had all gone to the park that day. Becky had loved it.

They had all been so happy!

She grabbed at the picture frame and opened it. She pulled out the photo and put it away carefully in her backpack. Then she rested her head on the pillow. She took a few deep breaths. She didn't really want to leave her house, she simply didn't know what else to do. It didn't make a lot of sense to stay. No matter how much she wanted to. It just didn't.

Jane closed her eyes. And though it didn't come quickly, sleep eventually found her.

Day 3

Chapter 1

Adam woke up and help still hadn't come. He had spent the whole of yesterday waiting
,
hopin
g
. There had been nothing. There had been no one. He was on his own.

He knew that he had to leave. He couldn't stay any longer in his apartment. It wouldn't do any good. And, if anything, it would only get worse.

The bodies. The smell. The disease.

He grabbed his backpack and headed to the front door. On his way, he picked up the bottle of juice from his refrigerator. There wasn't much left. He swallowed it, then placed the bottle onto the counter top.

He walked to his front door and stopped once he reached it.

He looked back at his apartment. He had lived there for a few years and felt an attachment to it. It also felt safe.

But the disease.

And he'd need more food.

He turned away from his apartment and faced the door. He reached out and grabbed hold of the door knob
.
This time he was going to leave. No question about it. No turning back
.
Before he opened it, he thought to check outside first.

Slowly, he put his eye to the peep hole. The emergency lights were still on. They cast a red glow over the hallway. Adam couldn't see much out there. A few things lying on the floor. They weren't moving.

"All right," he said. "You can do this."

He felt his nerves getting the better of him, but he was still resolved to go.

He put his hand on the door knob. It felt cold in his palm. Then, against his better judgement, he thought once more about turning back.

Maybe he should go into his room and wait. Someone might come. There might be help on its way.

No. No. No
.
Deep down, he knew that wasn't the case. He had to leave.

He turned the door knob. It clicked quietly, though loud enough for Adam to pause. He was afraid that someone…som
e
thing
…
out there would have heard it.

He waited. Nothing happened. There was no attack. Not even a sound.

This was something he had to get over. He couldn't be worried about every little thing. That would drive him mad.

He needed to leave. He had no other choice. That was all.

He opened the door. It moved slowly. Luckily, it didn't creak. Adam wasn't sure what he would have done if it had made anymore sound.

Break down?

He stuck his head into the hallway. He could make out the clumps on the ground - the bodies, his neighbours. They were lying out in the middle of the hall, dead.

He was a bit surprised to see so many of them out there. He had seen some of them when he had looked through the peep hole, but not this many. He hadn't heard enough noise from last night to justify this type of killing in the hallway, either.

Maybe he had been in shock.

He had gone to sleep too
.
Maybe it had happened then.

Regardless, his neighbours were spread throughout the hallway. It didn't really matter when it had happened.

Adam stepped into the hallway. It didn't smell all that horrible, but Adam pinched his nose anyway. It seemed like the right thing to do.

He walked toward the end of the hall, toward the stairwell. He didn't even think about using the elevator. First, he knew that it wouldn't be working. But, more than that, he didn't want to be trapped in a tiny little box; especially if one of thos
e
thing
s
managed to get in there with him.

When Adam got to the stairwell, he stopped and stared at the door. It was closed and he needed to build up the courage to open it. It had been hard enough opening his front door
.
And he could see out of that
!
Here was a door with no peep hole, no window, nothing to tell him what was on the other side.

Adam put his ear to the door. Maybe he could hear something. He held his breath and listened.

Once more, there was nothing. At least not that he could make out.

He put his hand on the bar and pushed
.
No point in waiting
.
There was another click. The door swung open. A swishing sound accompanied it. Like a freeze-dried package.

Adam didn't think too much about the sound this time. There were other things to worry about. Like the fact that there were no lights in the stairwell.

Adam couldn't believe it. It was dark. He didn't know why. He was sure that there were emergency lights in there.

It occurred to him that maybe they hadn't been hooked up to the generator. It seemed strange, but possible.

Or maybe they had burned out.

Whatever the case, they weren't on. He would have to make his way down through it without light.

N
o
, he realized
,
he didn't have to do it that way.

He took off his backpack and searched for the flashlight. It was in a side pocket and easy to find. He took out the knife with it
.
Just in case.

He put the backpack back on and prepared himself to go. His hands were shaking. He could barely breathe. But this was something that he needed to do.

"Here goes nothing!"

He switched on his flashlight and took a few steps toward the top of the staircase. He shone the light downward. There was nothing there, making Adam feel a bit better. Though not much.

He placed his foot down on the first step and kept walking until he came to a turn in the staircase. He flashed the light around it. He couldn't see anything down there, either.

Then he heard a bang.

Adam froze. His breathing stopped. His heart raced.

The stairwell door
.
It had closed behind him. The red light from the hallway disappeared.

Adam took a few more deep breaths
.
It's oka
y
, he told himself
.
Just keep walkin
g
. He turned the corner and walked down another flight of stairs.

As he came to the forth floor, he could see that that door was closed. He wasn't going to open it.

Earlier, he had thought about scrounging through the other apartments to find a gun. He didn't own one himself. He had never actually held one. He probably wouldn't even know what to do with it if he was able to get his hands on one. But the idea had crossed his mind. Again, it felt like the right thing to do.

Not now
.
Adam was against it. He didn't want to search through the tombs in his apartment building. He just wanted to be out of here
.
The quicker, the bette
r
.

Adam turned away from the door. He flashed the light down the next staircase and walked to the end of it. He turned the corner and flashed his light again.

This time, at the bottom of the stairs, he saw a face looking up at him, glaring.

Adam gasped in surprise and dropped his flashlight. He backed up and wanted to run. His legs wouldn't listen. Instead, he crouched and waited for an attack, the knife held out in from of him. He was going to do his best to fight off the intruder, even though he didn't feel very hopeful about it.

He waited. And waited.

There was no attack. Adam didn't even hear anything that slightly resembled one.

He walked back to the edge of the staircase and looked down. His flashlight had fallen down there and was resting against someone's leg. Adam couldn't see the body too well, but it wasn't moving. He was sure that it was dead.

Adam quickly rushed down the stairs and snatched at the flashlight. He expected the body to reach out and grab him as he did.

It didn't.

Adam quickly pointed the light at the dead person's face. It was a man. He looked slightly familiar. Adam must have seen him around the building, though he couldn't be sure. The man's face was contorted into a snarl. His throat had been sliced.

It was then that Adam noticed all of the blood pouring down the man's chest. It covered the floor beneath them. It had gotten onto Adam's hands, too, when he had picked up the flashlight.

"Shit," Adam said. It made him feel sick to have this man's blood on him.

He rubbed his hands against his jeans. The blood didn't come off completely, but he felt a little bit better about it.

He stood up, feeling the need to get out of there. He turned away from the dead man and continued walking down the stairs.

As Adam came to the second floor, he could see that the door was propped open. The red emergency lights in the hallway shone dimly into the stairwell. They lit up a dead body that was lying across the floor. It was the body that was keeping the door open.

Adam approached it slowly. He knew that it was dead, but he wasn't sure if there was anything lurking in the hall. He didn't want to be taken by surprise again.

He came upon the body. He couldn't see who it was because it was lying face down. He didn't really want to know anyway. He just wanted out.

But, before Adam could leave, he heard a sound. Actually, it wasn't just a sound. It took him a moment to register what it was. It was a voice.

"Help!" it screamed.

Adam was startled. He had expected to be attacked. He hadn't thought of finding any other people - any othe
r
survivor
s
. He didn't know what to do.

He wanted to leave. But he didn't want to leave anybody behind. Especially if they needed help. Of course, he wasn't sure that he'd be much help against one of those things.

What could he do?

He decided to check it out.

Adam stuck his head into the hallway. There was no one in sight.

"Help," the voice sounded again. "Help me!"

It was a girl's voice. Adam knew that much. The age escaped him.

He stepped into the hallway and walked toward it. It was difficult to know which apartment it had come from, but Adam was now determined to find out. He needed to help. If he wasn't already too late.

"Help!" the girl screamed once more. "Heeeeelp!"

The voice was louder. Adam knew that he was getting closer.

He came upon a door and stopped to listen. He thought that this might be the place.

"Heeeelllp meeeeeeee!"

It was.

Adam quickly opened the door. Luckily, it hadn't been locked.

He rushed into the apartment and looked around. There was no one there.

He heard some rustling coming from one of the bedrooms and ran over to it.

As soon as he entered, he saw a young girl being pinned to the bed by a man. The man was holding her arms down and his face was buried in her neck, as though he were trying to bite it.

The girl noticed Adam and her eyes opened wide.

"Help me," she said. "Please!"

Adam rushed over and pulled the man off of her. The man fell to the ground.

Adam prepared himself for an attack, knowing that it would come quickly. He had seen how these monsters attacked from outside his window. He wouldn't have much time to react.

But the attack never came.

The man spun around. Startled. "What the fuck?" he said.

Adam looked at the man. He wasn't one of the creatures.

"What are you doing?" Adam asked.

The man sat up against the wall. "Tryin' to have a little fun is all," he replied. His voice was a little more relaxed. At first, he was sure that Adam had been one of those creatures too. Now he knew that wasn't the case.

Adam looked at the girl on the bed. She was crying. She couldn't have been much more than ten years old. He felt a rush of anger run through him.

Adam ran over to the man on the floor and kicked him. The man hadn't expected it, so he hadn't been able to block it. It connected with his stomach. He crouched over.

"What the fuck was that for?" the man asked, breathless.

"What the fuck? What th
e
fuc
k
?" Adam kicked him again.

This time the ma
n
wa
s
able to block it. He scurried to his feet.

"I was just havin' a little fun," the man said, defensively.

"Get out!" Adam screamed. He pointed to the door.

The man raised his hands, pleading. "Come on, man. We can share her. I don't mind."
Adam threw his flashlight at the man. There was a loud crack as it bounced off of his shoulder.

"What the fuck? I said we can share her. Don't be so fuckin' greedy."