28. Hush
Jessica all but crashed through the metal frame behind us, still shooting blindly into the screeching thing that seemed awfully determined to make her stop.
“Get in!” I pushed her hands away after I heard her gun click empty (not that she had ceased firing) and shoved the door to the kitchens shut, hauling myself against it while Harry slumped next to me, arm cradled close to his chest. “You okay?” I asked.
“Wrist is sprained,” he wheezed. “Better not be broken. That thing knocked the wind outta me, s’all.”
“It’ll knock more than that out if we don’t block the door.” Jessica holstered her empty weapon and moved to the hulking steel cabinets meant to house pots, pans and other utensils. “Help me shove one of these in the way.”
I braced on the door. “And wait for that thing to get in here too? I can’t.” I glanced down at Harry. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I know you’ve already—”
He was up before I could even finish my plea, determination squaring his shoulders in a second wind I could only help but envy. With a cacophony of grunting, expletives and desperate entreaties with inanimate objects, the two of them managed to work together for long enough to wrestle a cabinet over the door. Without a second to lose, too – the moment the space was covered the blockade gave a great shudder as a heavy body came slamming against it.
I backed up, nearly treading on the hostile’s corpse, still hastily covered by a tablecloth. Red had begun to seep through the places where a face might be. I swallowed down bile. No matter how much gore I’ve seen so far, I don’t think this will ever stop surprising me.
“What do we do now?” Jessica asked, shooting a glance at Harry, whose head was tilted back. I followed his gaze and groaned.
“You can’t be serious,” I said.
“Give me a boost. We’ll pull each other up after.” Harry stepped away and went hunting for a stepladder or a footstool to make matters easier.
I chewed my lip and stared up at the square of mesh covering the vent through which the hostile had fallen. I tried not to think about how many more might be waiting up there for us, or about the thing outside responsible for killing the one on the ground. I tried hard.
September 22, 2015 | Categories: Uncategorized | Tags: apocalypse, author, blog, creative, creativity, dystopia, fiction blog, horror, midas plague, project, suspense, write, writer | Leave a comment
26. Siege
I opened my mouth to voice my confusion but found a hand clamped over it before any sound escaped. My fingers went to peel the unwanted touch away and, in darkness I don’t remember falling into, Jessica’s shaded face appeared above me. She pressed a fierce finger against her lips and jerked her head towards the double doors at the back of the canteen. Propping myself on my elbows, her hand falling away from my mouth, I followed her gesture. In front of the doors, bathed in the soft blue of emergency lighting, Harry braced his shoulder against the two doors. A slender object – a broom handle, I saw – was shoved between them, preventing entry.
I tilted my head, pleased to note that the throbbing pain in my skull had subsided, and scooted back a couple of inches on the floor as the drums that had woken me thundered up again. The doors bucked and threatened to burst open, but for Harry and his impromptu block barring the way. Not drums. Intruders.
“Hostiles,” Jessica all but hissed under her breath. I scrambled to my feet, shrugging her off when she tried to pull me back. In the commotion I made it across the canteen in just a few quick dashes, joining Harry and adding my weight to the door.
“Thanks,” he whispered, the sound nearly inaudible by the gurgles and savage grunts from the other side. Sweat glimmered on his forehead and his feet skidded as one of the hostiles made a particularly energetic shove at the door.
“What do we do?” I asked, shooting a glance over my shoulder to find Jessica hunting around for anything more to barricade the room up with.
“We can’t hold out for here much longer, that’s for sure,” Harry replied. “But I can stop them a bit longer. See if we can shove one of the tables or something up against here.”
I nodded, not bothering to stifle my footsteps as I joined Jessica in her search. They were outside and they knew we were here. There was nothing else for it.
“How did they know?” I asked, seizing a chair and ferrying it over to the doors.
“Someone decided to go on a midnight stroll,” she said, the venom in her voice palpable.
“Oh.” I rubbed at the back of my neck. “Well at least we know where they are. Better than them wandering around while we’re asleep.”
“If you say so,” Jessica grunted. The two of us lifted a table, carrying it on its side to toughen up our barricade.
“I would have been fine,” Harry snapped at her, “if you hadn’t come spying. This is your fault.”
Jessica barked out a laugh. “Don’t delude yourself.”
“At least I was trying to do something constructive, instead of snooping around.”
I groaned, shoving against the table as another wave of hostiles struggled to break through the door. “Will you two just sto—”
I slid, comically, to the ground as the pressure suddenly eased off. I frowned up at Harry and Jessica.
“Don’t either of you dare laugh.”
Harry’s lips twitched, then all humour wiped from his face
From the room beyond, something started screaming.
August 18, 2015 | Categories: Uncategorized | Tags: apocalypse, author, blog, creative, creativity, dystopia, fiction, horror, midas plague, project, suspense, write | Leave a comment
25. Loggerheads
The hostile was dead – twice – but that was not immediately obvious. Only once we had disentangled Harry from the mess of hair and bone and exposed muscle, Harry shouting threats, I fighting not to topple over while Jessica stormed through the doors with gun raised, did we realise that it wasn’t moving, let alone trying to attack.
“How did it get up there?” Jessica patrolled the steel shelves around the grate, kicking the broken covering away and largely ignoring the bloody mess before us. I tried to do the same, the soup sloshing around in my stomach in a way that could only be described as worrying.
Harry, meanwhile, was crouched down beside what was left of the body. “A better question would be ‘what killed it’?” he said.
“Be careful,” Jessica said. “You have no idea what it might be riddled with.”
“It did land on him,” I pointed out. “If it was riddled with anything, it’s too late to stop it now.” I slumped against the side of the doorframe, scientific curiosity begging my attention to the hostile but my body refusing to cooperate.
Harry prodded the thing with the end of a metal ladle he’d recovered from a nearby drawer. It had been disembowelled, half eaten, its abdomen a mass of glistening wetness. “Do you think another hostile could have done this?” He asked.
“It’s not improbable,” I said slowly. “I saw one, once, that tried to eat its own face. Or at least I think that’s what it was doing.” I tried not to think about the break room. The ocean of soup grew yet more tumultuous.
“I wouldn’t put anything past them,” said Jessica. “And if another hostile did this to one of them, good on it. Less for us to deal with.”
Harry straightened up. “Yeah, but what if it comes after us when it’s done with them?”
She shrugged. “Better to deal with one than a hundred. Now let’s get that vent covered before whatever it is that took a bite out of this one comes back.”
We nodded and set to work. Replacing the cover proved impossible, but we managed to patch it across with some duct tape and mesh from a supplies cupboard. That done, we covered the body with a tablecloth and securely shut the doors to the kitchen, food forgotten.
I didn’t realise how dark it had gotten or how tired I was until Jessica steered me over to a pile of coats she’d gathered from around the canteen.
“You look about ready to drop,” she said. “Get some rest.”
I wanted to protest but my head hit the makeshift pillows and my eyes closed before the words could form. The sounds of Harry and Jessica shifting around the room rocked me away.
I slept deep, dreamless.
I awoke suddenly, to the sound of drums.
August 7, 2015 | Categories: Uncategorized | Tags: apocalypse, author, blog, creative, creativity, dystopia, fiction, fiction blog, midas plague, sci fi, suspense, write, writer | Leave a comment
24. Relief
The canteen was much larger than I gave it credit. Beyond the cluster of tables and the wall of vending machines stood a serving bar, and as luck would have it the apocalypse had chosen to wait until after lunch, so there was no food left on display. The sight of half rotten meat, fish and vegetables might have been enough to put me off my appetite, and in the state I found myself I wouldn’t have lasted much longer.
Jessica, her gun now hanging in a leg holster but still very much on display, prowled the perimeter, checking the barricade we had made in front of the big double doors and glancing at a watch I was sure had stopped working.
A metallic rattling gave away Harry’s position as he rifled the kitchens; he’d left me at the table with a bottle of something fizzy (I didn’t much care what it was) and a tiny packet of cookies from one of the vending machines. I paced myself even then, willing my headache away but unwilling to ask for any painkillers.
“Soup’s on.” Harry appeared in the doorway to the kitchens. “And that’s just for starters. Come and help yourself.” We passed each other – I still limping and exhausted, he battered and cradling his bad arm. “You kept an eye on her?” Harry glanced at Jessica, now searching for something to make a suitable bed or shelter; I hadn’t realised but the floor was scattered with an odd combination of personal belongings. A partially shredded coat, a single shoe, a purse with change spilling out…
I nodded at Harry. He squeezed my shoulder and left me to the sterile confines of the kitchen. Something about its cleanliness made me think that Harry had cleared up beforehand. The feeling only got worse as I spied a missed streak of red against one of the steel refrigerators. A veritable vat of soup steamed on a hob nearby.
Filling a bowl, I sipped at it gratefully as I wandered around the echoing room, lifting plates here, pushing towels out of the way there. A wide steel wall showed me the gaunt cheekbones and pale sickness of my own face. I finished my soup, rubbed at my cheeks and sighed. When I dropped my hands again my attention was drawn to Harry coming in through the reflective door. The ventilation grate above him, I noticed, was breathing.
I turned around.
“Harry, what’s–”
The grate buckled, and a body slammed down on top of him.
July 23, 2015 | Categories: Uncategorized | Tags: author, creative, dystopia, fiction, midas plague, sci fi, write | Leave a comment
Midas Plague 