Authors: Laury Falter
Beverly shot a curt look at him. “What are you doing out of your jail cell?” Then her scowl turned to disdain. “What’s up with the party posse?” she asked, eyeing the rest of us as we approached. “Does
everyone
want to play Carry-The-Can?”
I opened my mouth to speak, to break this chain of events, to somehow prevent what my nightmare had forewarned, but Harrison didn’t realize it.
“Sure, let us handle it,” he suggested, stopping at the can and curling his fingers around the edge.
She gave him, and then the rest of us, a sincere look of distrust, and at that point my impetus to interject myself into the conversation ended. Her face told me anything that seemed out of the ordinary would only heighten her suspicions.
“Doc hates taking out the garbage. Mei and Kennedy couldn’t care less if they live in filth. And you, Harrison, shouldn’t even be here. What’s going on?” she said, in an exact repeat of what I’d heard before.
“Just go back and…do your nails,” Harrison suggested.
“I don’t have any more polish,” she muttered.
“Then go suntan.”
“It’s November, Harrison.” She narrowed her eyes at him and my heart tightened in my chest as every fiber of my being began screaming, “No!” But I was stuck in a bizarre unfolding of what I’d already seen, unable to pressure her into stepping away from the door, unable to stop this train wreck from happening. I considered knocking her out, but she was too far from me. And any advancement would definitely strike fear in her and she’d flee – in the opposite direction out the door.
“Why?” she demanded. “Why don’t you want me out there?”
When she turned her head to glance outside, I took a step forward, but her face was back again, reflecting animosity without reason.
“Just…,” Harrison sighed in frustration, “let me handle it.”
Apparently, he’d come to the same conclusion as me, that physical force was the only approach now, and began striding toward her. Seeing him advance, she shoved the can toward us and ran. The door slammed back at us, but Harrison caught it and cast it aside. We followed through it, but Beverly was gone. After rounding the corner of the maintenance shed, she stood precisely where she had in my nightmare, frozen at the sight of her father.
“Who is that?” Doc whispered after he’d come to a stop behind me.
“It’s her…her dad,” Mei muttered, the sound of sorrow and empathy evident in her voice.
Now, Mei was supposed to pass by me and put her arm around Beverly, which would result in Beverly flying into a fit of rage. This didn’t come to pass. Harrison and I didn’t let it. We advanced and it turned out that it was the scuff of our feet against the pavement that set Beverly off.
She ran for the fence and I imagine, in her rage, intended to fight them bare-fisted. Luckily, Harrison caught her, wrapping his massive arms around her torso and holding her back. She became a mindless whirlwind of frenzy against his hold, screaming with guttural rage, pushing at Harrison’s iron-clad restraint, and kicking her legs in the air as she tried to get at the ones she blamed for her father’s demise.
I was mesmerized. We all were, but my reasons were different. While they stood in shock at the fury Beverly displayed, I was experiencing the surreal, beautiful feeling of having dodged a bullet. This entire episode hadn’t been in my dream. She had reached the gate and managed to open it, but that was no longer possible, not with Harrison’s arms around her. What this meant was simple. The breach wouldn’t occur. We were safe.
Nonetheless, even as I drew in a deep breath of relief, I glanced at the gate.
The Infected were as I’d seen them in my nightmare. Beverly’s tirade was inciting them and their reaction was gradually creating that single undulating wave of anarchy. Their mouths began to froth; their heads whipped from side to side; their bodies quivered with the overpowering craving to taste our flesh.
Jeff “Skunk” Temple was there, his distinct white stripe down the center of his dark hair clearly visible. I remembered him running for Beverly, distracting me from something else which took place right before I woke up. It was when my eyes were on him that I’d missed an attack from the side. And his distraction did it again.
I was focused on him, and missing the point of my nightmare entirely, when the Infected breached the gate. My nightmare wasn’t warning that we needed to hide the pipe from Beverly or even to lock the gate. It was telling me that the breach was going to occur when they, the Infected, became incensed. And they were…enough to bend the bars those final few inches in front of Beverly’s dad’s car.
And that’s exactly how they found their way in.
~ 11 ~
“
K
ENNEDY!
G
ET BACK INSI-”
I didn’t exactly hear Harrison shouting. I was too consumed by the feel of the vibrating earth as an Infected ran for me. When my head swung in his direction, the blurred movement behind him told me the horde was steadily shoving their way through the broken bars, resembling a human lava flow, climbing over each other and smothering others to get to us.
Instinctively, I swung my arm back in search of my rifle, and found nothing but air. No sling, no cold hard metal. I’d left it behind. Of all the times…
One of the Infected reached Harrison then and my stomach tightened into a ball of terror. The man was twice his size, with a gut that wobbled and stretched the words on his blood-stained shirt “100% Pure Roughneck” across his belly. Yet I watched in amazement as Harrison swung a left hook at the man and sent him to the ground all while maintaining control over Beverly. His head then jerked to the side, his eyes wide in their attempt to locate me.
“Kennedy!”
This time, I heard him, but had no time to react.
An Infected had reached me. I heaved my right leg out and landed a roundhouse kick to the Infected’s face. His head flew to the side sending spittle out in a fishtail spray. He recovered instantly and lunged for me. But I was ready with a front kick to his chest, and it was a direct hit. He stumbled but didn’t go down and came at me again, his arms out and reaching for me, his eyes locked on my neck. I was pulling my throwing stars from my back pocket when I was swept up and carried away.
It was Harrison. He had Beverly under one arm and me under the other as he tore across the pavement for the back door. And from my vantage point facing backwards, I got a front row seat to what was heading for us: a mass of slobbering, senseless Infected.
Then I found myself inside the dark hallway and the door was slamming shut closing off my sight of our attackers. Harrison didn’t release us until we were halfway down the corridor, and only after he heard the door’s heavy metal bang, signaling we were now shut off from the rest of the world. His arm unwound from Beverly’s waist first and she spun away, colliding with the wall, and sliding down to the floor to catch her breath. She let out a noise that sounded like something between a moan and a sob. He kept me close with an iron-clad embrace as he turned to me.
“Are you hurt?”
“No.”
Still, his dark, blue eyes lingered on me.
“I’m okay.”
It was only after I reassured him again that he nodded and unwrapped his arms. He then peered down the corridor to the kitchen.
“Where are Doc and Mei?” I asked before realizing he was wondering the same thing.
“Here,” Doc’s voice drifted to us, shaky and in almost a whisper, as if he didn’t want to upset those outside any more than they already had been.
Harrison and I rounded the corner and found Doc holding Mei to his chest, her arms folded against it and her face buried in her fists. She was shuddering uncontrollably. Doc gave us a worried frown.
“Is she bitten?” Harrison asked.
Doc shook his head. “No.”
“Mei,” I said, placing my hand on her shoulder. “You okay?”
I had my doubts, but gradually one of her hands twisted and her fingers shifted until she gave me a thumbs up. I almost smiled at the will of the human spirit under extreme circumstances.
“That was close,” Doc mentioned, warily.
“Well,” Harrison said in aggravation while shifting his stance to peer around the corner at Beverly, “it’s not over yet.”
At his warning, Mei’s head rose to gawk at him.
“Beverly,” Harrison called out, “we need to go.”
“Go?” Doc asked, stunned. “Where?”
As Harrison disappeared down the corridor with intentions of dragging Beverly to her senses, I explained. “The only defense we had was that gate. The Infected have gotten past it.”
“But the entrances are all closed and locked,” he countered, referring to the glass doors on each side of the school.
“And how long do you think those will last?”
He blinked and began processing that question, and then his jaw dropped.
“Mei,” he said to her, his voice trembling now. “We need to move.”
By then, Harrison was rounding the corner, carrying a listless Beverly in his arms. “Let’s go,” he said without stopping.
We worked our way through the hallways, keeping strictly to the interior ones. Harrison led us that way on purpose. Any sight of us through the glass doors or windows would provoke the Infected and give them an idea of our location, and right about then we needed to be ants traveling through our tunnels.
On our way past the teacher’s lounge, Doc stopped and anxiously whispered, “The food! We forgot the food.”
Without stopping, Harrison said, “We can’t carry it.” He shifted Beverly’s weight so that her head flopped back against his chest, unconsciously reinforcing his point.
“But…” he started to counter, and then realized that Harrison was correct. He decided not to argue his point further.
Food, we could find, and if we didn’t we could last weeks without it. I wondered if Doc knew that Mahatma Gandhi had survived 21 days of starvation. I wondered if Doc even knew who Gandhi was…It didn’t matter. The single most important objects inside the school at that moment were made of steel and hard plastic and were designed to take the heads off anyone who considered us a food source. Harrison knew this too and led us directly to the gym.
We were at the doors to the foyer when the sound of glass breaking echoed through the hallways.
Every one of us froze, except for Beverly who was currently staring into space.
When we heard the pounding of footsteps reverberating off the walls, I didn’t hesitate any longer. Opening the door, I barreled through it and then through the next set into the gym. The rifle remained propped against the bleachers, exactly where I’d left it. I had it in my hands in less than five seconds. On my way back to them, I checked the chamber for a round, the magazine for extra rounds, turned off the safety, and turned on the scope. The weight of the magazines in my pants reminded me that I had ammo, giving me some comfort. But there were so damn many of them. A quick calculation told me that I couldn’t stop all of them, even if each shot was perfectly placed.
Harrison kept his eyes on me until I was inside the foyer, ensuring I returned safely and instilling in me the real danger we were in at this time by only being a few feet apart. Then he turned his attention to the foyer doors leading to the hallway. He was about to approach them when I whispered, “Harrison.” He turned and I motioned for him to set Beverly down. Apparently, he thought this was a good idea because he slowly settled her feet to the ground. Maybe he figured he’d need to use his hands or the position of her in his arms might hinder his ability to lean against the door. Whatever it was, I’m sure he had no notion of my end goal. He was about to lay the rest of her on the floor when I hauled off and slapped Beverly clear across the face.
Her eyes flew open, wide and alert, in an immediate attempt to find the one who assaulted her. The truth was, if it hadn’t been me, it would have been an Infected waking her up. I think she’d prefer me.
She gave up on deciphering who had done it and climbed up Harrison’s arms until her feet were solidly under her. She was now delirious but functioning, which meant she could run.
Doc, I noticed, was quietly nodding his head in agreement at my approach. It did provide an excellent result. My only regret about the entire scenario was that it sent out a loud smack, and let the Infected know we were somewhere nearby. There was a slowing of the footsteps through the halls and then a sudden, drastic increase.
The level of tension in the foyer rose to a suffocating degree.
Harrison, being the only one who maintained a collected demeanor, muttered, “Follow me.”
He led us back into the gym, across it, and into the guy’s locker rooms. We traversed it and went through a door into a passageway. Vaguely, I recalled a similar door in the girl’s locker room but it had been locked, unmarked and unused, so I’d never questioned it. Harrison had, however. I knew this as he moved with a sureness that only came from having been down a certain path before. Clearly, he’d been more thorough than me on his nightly routes.
We went through the opposite door and found ourselves in a storage room lined with outdated, dented file cabinets and awkwardly stacked tables. Across that room and through another door was the library. We kept to the side of the room, against the back wall, peering down the rows of books to make sure no Infected were in the room with us. They weren’t, but Harrison didn’t deviate from his path or attempt to peek out an exit to determine if the hallways were clear. And that was when it hit me.