The Last Infection: A Post Apocalyptic Thriller (2 page)

3.

The morning light brought safety. Chris looked out over the Denver skyline as the light worked its way across the building tops. He hadn’t slept in a full day and the burning in his eyes told him he would regret it. Sleeping during the day was the safest way to go because you didn’t have to
worry about the infected, but Chris was hungry and needed supplies. His mistake in the mall not only nearly got him killed, but he also lost a week’s worth of scavenged provisions.

He got to his feet and settled on a list of things to do for the day. Food was most important followed closely by a source for fire.
Food was essential and not the easiest thing to come by. His tastes had changed over the past several months. He wasn’t above eating dog food if he had to, or a dog for that matter.

He quietly slid
his bat from the handle of the roof top door. Roofs of buildings were his favorite place to rest. The entrances could be secured with relative ease and there was rarely more than one way in or out. Most times, he searched for a fire escape to get down the outside of a building when the morning came, but his mind was set on the soft light of the vending machine he’d seen on the third floor on the way up the night before.

Buildings were not safe during the day. The infected used them as hives to hide out from the sunlight, but at the
moment, Chris was thinking with his stomach. He’d kept a watchful eye on the building’s main entrance as dawn neared, and as best he could tell there’d been no new arrivals. He was well aware that it didn’t guarantee the building was safe.

The
bat felt good in his grip. The converted weapon was becoming a new favorite. A quick pull and two steps brought him inside the door and up to the railing, looking down over several flights of stairs. He moved down the first flight with agile strides, the taps of his boots echoing ever so slightly in the silence. He made the turn and continued down to a landing. He came to a stop and listened for the signs of a coming attack. Once satisfied, he focused on the door leading out onto the floor.

A thin window embedded in the door
was illuminated by an eerie red glow from the exit sign in the interior hall. He wondered how long it would be before the last of the artificial light would go out. There was no rhyme or reason as to why some lights kept running or why others died out long ago. He was grateful for what he could get.

Chris slid his face up to the
window and peered in. The hall was cloaked in darkness, but a sliver of sunlight at the end of the corridor was within his vision. The light cascaded through an outer wall of windows and revealed an opening to a break room. Chris could see a small table and a set of chairs from his vantage point. The outline of a vending machine near the opening in an inner wall called to him.

It was impossible to tell if the machine had been looted
, but it was worth the risk. Chris had gotten some of his best hauls out of vending machines. Those hauls were to blame for his desperate need of a dentist, but it gave him hope that there would soon be food in his stomach. He could accept the cavity implications that were sure to follow any success.

Chris turned the door handle and pulled with delicate ease. He stepped through swiftly and placed his back against the wall.
A quick scan of the way behind revealed a similar picture to the front of the building. The rear exterior glass wall was giving way to sunlight although heavy blinds reduced the light to rows of thin slits against cubical walls. The interior floor space was consumed by a cubical farm from one outer hall to another on the opposite side of the building. The front of the floor, beyond the break room, appeared to be one large open space.

Satisfied with the stillness, Chris
crept forward keeping his back against the wall. He tried to keep his eyes moving in both directions as he walked. He knew his ears were his best chance at detecting any signs of trouble. He was midway between the front of the building and the door to the stairs when the noises started.

The shuffling of feet froze Chris in place. Zombies, he knew. He felt his heartbeat rise in his chest as he fought with the decision to go forward.
His hand shook as he tried to keep his bat at the ready. The steps continued, slow and unsteady. The infected always moved with a hurried purpose. He was sure it didn’t know he was there because whether infected or undead, neither ever turned down a chance to feed.

Chris held still for a long time, glancing back at the
exit doorway. Sweat built on his brow and rolled down his forehead into his eyes. The warmth of his skin was far beyond what the temperature could do and he knew it. The fear in his heart had hold of him and he needed to act now or retreat. The smart thing to do was to get out while he could, but the gnawing in his stomach was hard to ignore. If he turned down this chance, he didn’t know how long it would be until he would eat again.

He fin
ally convinced himself that the sounds couldn’t have been steps. He swayed himself enough to reach the end of the hall. His courage earned him his first view of what was in fact a vending machine. More important were the few dozen shinny wrapped snacks contained within. Chris smiled despite himself.

Another series of steps
brought him to the open break room doorway and Chris cautiously gazed in. There was no sign of movement, but the soft glow from the sign above the machine only covered half of the room. The outline of chairs and tables were obscured by the darkness on the other side. His concern could not overwhelm his hunger and two long strides brought him to the front of the vending machine.

His mind was busy counting the number of treasures through the front
plexiglass while his hands fumbled at the button on the side pouch of his cargo pants. The button gave way as he calculated that this would be his best haul by a long shot. He removed the set of oddly shaped keys and began thumbing through them one by one. The keys were a gift from a recently deceased vending machine repairman and they were Chris’ prized possessions.

He
sized up the lock on the machine and looked back at the keys. A spark of hope came as he flipped feverously through the set and stopped on a match. The moment he took hold of the key, a low, but obvious sound hovered over his shoulder from somewhere behind him. In one quick motion, he dropped the key ring to the ground and spun around with his bat at the ready.

The noise was close and Chris focused on the dark side of the break
room, cursing in the process. The light from the front wall of windows penetrated the room’s doorway, but not much further than the entrance. He scanned the assorted tables and chairs looking in vain for something moving toward him. The pounding of his heart returned to his ears and a familiar shake made an appearance in his hands. He listened so intently to the silence that he was sure he could hear the wind blowing in the street below. Chris held still with his bat up and ready to strike, waiting for a clue of what was to come. Several painstaking minutes crept by and the first sound he heard was not at all what he’d expected.

“We just want some food.”

The voice was high-pitched, but consciously meek. The speaker was close, undoubtedly within the break room beyond the light. Chris would have sworn it was the voice of a kid, but he couldn’t be sure. Whoever it was, at least they were smart enough to whisper.

“Show yourself,” Chris
said. “Come out into the light.”

There was a hushed conversation followed by slow movement beyond the tables and chairs close to the back wall.
A figure stepped forward into the light. The kid was a rail-thin boy, his jeans and jacket stained with dirt and only God knows what else. He swept his bangs out of his eyes with one hand, while sheathing a long knife in his belt with the other. The two studied one another for a few tense moments, and then Chris pushed for information.

“You said
we
.”

The boy hesitated and pursed his lips.
He waved at someone still hidden by the darkness after a moment of internal debate and urged them forward. A little girl about half a foot shorter than the boy stopped at his side. She instinctively grabbed his hand and stared at Chris. She was as filthy as the boy, her long blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail that any good mother would be ashamed of. Chris was at a loss for words, not sure what he should do. The boy got straight to the point before he could gather his thoughts.

“We want some of that food,” he whispered, pointing at the vending machine.

“Why should I share?” Chris asked.

“We saw it first,” the girl added, raising her voice louder than necessary.

Chris lowered his bat and motioned for her to keep it down.

“And how did you plan to get in
side it?”

“We were working on a plan,” the boy said.

Chris risked a look back and found signs of prying on the edge of the machine.

“You’re not going
to get in it that way,” he said, “…at least not without making enough noise to attract attention to yourself.”

The girl eyed him suspiciously.

“So what’s your plan?”

Chris held up a finger with one
hand, then leaned down and picked up his ring of keys. He found the key he needed and went to work on the machine, turning his back to the kids. A moment later, the lock was undone. He pulled the face of the machine open and stood back out of the way. He looked at the children and smiled.

There was a moment when he thought the kids might try
to get past him. The girl leaned forward as if drawn by some unseen force. The boy squeezed her hand and pulled her back on her heels. The resemblance of the two adolescents was unmistakable. Their faces were nearly carbon copies of one another, save for the softer impressions of the little girl’s cheeks and mouth. A number of questions stuffed Chris’ mind, but he tried to push them aside. He quickly reminded himself that he didn’t care or at least didn’t want to.

Chris looked at the contents of the vending machine and verified that it was in fact the largest haul he’d ever seen.
He thought for a split second about shooing the kids away, but his guilt quickly got the best of him. He rolled his eyes and his shoulders relaxed. “Fine,” he said more to himself than the kids. “I’ll split some of it with you.” He swore under his breath and the kids stepped forward. It was the little girl’s sudden stop that grabbed his attention. The expression on her face hardened as she turned her focus toward the doorway. “What’s wrong with her?”

The boy raise
d his hand then in a barely auditable murmur said, “We need to hurry.”

Chris didn’t argue. He was
annoyed at himself for missing whatever the girl heard. He grabbed an empty garbage bag from the can near the door and started throwing in every item he could grab. The boy joined in to help as the girl moved closer to the doorway, then poked her head out into the hall. Chris knew they were making way too much noise, but the need for food was urging him to move faster. It was the echo of clumsy steps that told him what the girl heard. The haunting moan that followed the steps confirmed his thought immediately.

“We gotta go
,” the boy said in a voice draped in obvious dread.

Chris kept grabbing
snacks, as the moans grew louder. His mind was already trying to piece together a plan. If he couldn’t get back down the hall to the stairs, he’d have to explore the other side of the floor. One thing was certain; he didn’t want two kids running close behind him. The kids were standing out in the hall when he wrapped up the top of the trash bag and slung it over his shoulder. The trio headed back down the hall toward the stairway door when the sound of the moans increased from somewhere in the darkness up ahead. Chris gauged the distance and quickly determined they wouldn’t reach the stairwell in time.

“Come on,”
he said, spinning the boy around by the collar of his jacket.

Chris didn’t look back to see
what was coming after them. He rushed past the break room and into the light cascading through the glass wall encompassing the front of the building. A chorus of the zombie death song pushed him to keep moving. The volume increased tenfold as the undead appeared to detect them. Chris turned toward the center of the floor to find a wide open space filled with several rows of desk spread out in lined order. The papers and contents of the desks were strewn about the floor.

M
ultiple figures pulled away from the darkness in an unformed mass in the open space beyond the rows of desks. The first among them was dressed in a fine suit, including a tightly fitted tie around its neck. The half eaten face of the wearer revealed a violent mess of decomposing muscle and clean white bones laid open for all to see. A scream from the little girl told Chris they would soon be cornered in the open space. He scanned the area in search of anything that might save his neck.

“Up there.”

Chris turned and followed the boy’s outstretched hand to a space between the ceiling and the tall exterior sectional wall of the cubicles. Chris only had time to react. He raced for the wall, leading himself and the trailing kids to a trapped position between the rear partition of the break room on one side and the cubicles on the other side. Two groups of undead merged in the open space and started in. Their uncoordinated slithering walk gave Chris time for one more move.