Chapter 5
I can’t believe it’s only ten a.m. Our entire world changed over the course of just a few hours, and I have that familiar feeling that things will never be the same.
It’s the same feeling I had when I realized my adopted parents, Meredith and Daniel, weren’t coming back for me.
It’s the same feeling I had when I arrived here and the doors locked behind me.
The change feels heavy and final, and I learned a long time ago that fighting it doesn’t help.
Only moving forward can do that. So, I promise myself I will.
“We should check the news,” Nurse Patrick suggests.
Mr. Josh turns on the ancient TV hanging in the corner of the room and flips through the channels, passing by the footage of zombies—no, carriers—in city streets until he finds one with actual news anchors.
A man in a clean suit explains that the riots first seen in Chicago are spreading rapidly.
There are reports of attacks in New York, Los Angeles, and Houston as well as in their neighboring suburbs.
The anchor advises everyone to stay in their homes, by order of the governor, and wait for containment, reassuring the masses that everything is under control.
I can see his mouth twitch and his eyes shift as he tells the lie.
Then, abruptly, the broadcast repeats. Somehow, that’s the most unsettling part.
“You heard him. We stay put. Governor’s orders,” says Mr. Josh.
“How many of those things are lying dead in this building or outside in the streets waiting for the next loud noise to rise up and come for us?”
“Quinn, if we all stay quiet, the police will—”
“Nobody is coming for us. We’re on the sixth floor of a residential psychiatric treatment center in Peoria, Illinois, for Christ’s sake. We don’t have parents. No one is looking for us. No one is coming.”
This starts the waterworks, and I realize my mistake when Ginger’s hands start to shake.
“I have parents, Quinn! My parents are probably coming to get me right now!” she whines.
“Me too, Quinn. I have parents,” January sniffles. Goddammit.
Keisha narrows her eyes and gives me a sharp headshake, letting me know I just messed up big time.
“Of course, Ginger. You’re right. I didn’t think of that. I’m really sorry. I’m sure they’ll probably be here soon,” I say quickly. “Yours too, Jan.” This placates them, thank god. You can feel everyone in the room breathe a little sigh of relief.
We sit in silence as the anchorman drones on and on, repeating his message. Every few seconds I glance at Cat warily, and I catch Nurse Patrick doing the same.
“We need to make sure the bodies in the other room don’t wake up.
We need to get rid of them, and fast,” Nurse Patrick says, breaking the silence.
It’s a little strange to hear him refer to Haley, Octavia, Olivia, and Tasha as “the bodies,” but besides making sure we have food and water, it’s the first helpful thing he’s suggested all day.
“And how do we do that?” Mr. Josh asks with an edge of snark in his voice.
“I’m not getting in the elevator with the bodies without knowing what will be there when the doors open downstairs, and I’m sure as hell not carrying them down all those stairs and going outside.
If we open the window, the alarm will go off throughout the entire building.
We’d call every carrier in a five-mile radius right to the lobby. ”
We sit in silence for a moment, all of us coming to grips with the fact that the next loud noise will mean that a thin particleboard door is all that stands between us and the next attack.
“We could take them to the roof. All of them,” Keisha says. “We can’t let any of the bodies sit in here with us. Who knows how long we’ll be waiting for help? We should get rid of all of them.”
“She’s right, Josh,” Nurse Patrick says. “There’s no alarm on the door leading to the roof. I go out there for a smoke sometimes. We’ll be safe from whatever is going on outside all the way up there.”
By eleven a.m. we have a plan.
Nurse Patrick, Mr. Josh, and I each grip a bedpost and step softly from the safety of the dayroom, quietly closing the door behind us.
It bothers me to leave Keisha alone without a weapon and with Cat and her festering bite, but I shake off the feeling, knowing that getting rid of the bodies before they come back to life is most important.
If Ms. Michelle taught us anything, it’s that a bite on the arm takes about a day to kill you. We have time.
Out in the hallway, everything is still. To our right, Ms. Michelle and Tracy lie in a pool of black muck, their dented skulls ensuring they’re harmless. To our left, the empty hallway looks like it could swallow us whole.
When we reach Tasha’s doorway, we’re relieved to find everyone just as we left them.
Diamond’s crushed skull makes her our last priority.
Tasha, Octavia, Haley, and Olivia lie next to her in odd shapes, their throats ruined.
It’s like standing next to lit dynamite.
I’ve never seen so much blood in my life, and it’s gone sticky under my shoes, making a soft sucking sound each time I shift my weight.
Mr. Josh points to Olivia. Nurse Patrick nods and hands his bedpost to me, while Mr. Josh lays his softly on the bed but still within reach.
Carefully, they grab her by her wrists and ankles.
I’m ready to swing, just in case movement also brings them back, but she stays still.
We breathe a collective sigh of relief. Our sticky shoes are the only sound as we move down the hall toward the back stairwell where Keisha and I escaped just last night.
When we get to the end of the hall, I punch in Mr. Josh’s security code and pull open the heavy door with a soft click.
Mr. Josh’s face goes red with anger and embarrassment as he realizes his code has been stolen, but he says nothing.
The stairwell is dark, lit only by the glowing exit signs. I lead the way, and we climb the two flights of stairs in silence. Olivia can’t weigh much, but they’re both sweating already by the time we reach the door to the roof. I swing the door open as the harsh midday sun nearly blinds us.
We reach the center of the roof, and they gently lower Olivia’s body.
“Should we say something?” Nurse Patrick whispers.
“We can do that later. We need to get the others. Who knows how much time we have before some idiot sets off an alarm,” Mr. Josh whispers back.
They turn to walk away, but I stay right where I am.
I know our job isn’t finished.
“We have to throw her off the roof,” I say flatly. They stare at me, wordless, with that horrified look I’ve grown used to. This time I don’t try to fix it.
I whisper, trying to help them understand. “The next gunshot or car horn is going to wake her up. If that happens between now and when we drag the rest of the bodies up here, we’re screwed,” I explain.
They cringe, but they know I’m right. Sentimentality went out the window hours ago. Gently, they pick her up again and move closer to the edge of the roof.
“On the count of three?” Mr. Josh whispers.
Nurse Patrick nods. They swing Olivia’s body back and forth, building momentum, and toss her over the edge. When we hear her body make contact with the concrete below, Nurse Patrick vomits immediately.
I can’t help but peer over the edge to see what’s left of Olivia, splattered on the Pegasus Center’s walkway. She won’t be hurting anyone. All of a sudden, the puzzle pieces click together in my mind. I can’t believe I didn’t think of it before. I’m an idiot.
“We don’t have to wait,” I say.
“What are you talking about?” Mr. Josh asks over Nurse Patrick’s retching.
“I mean, we’re idiots. We don’t have to wait for them to reanimate to kill them. If we destroy their brain first, they won’t get back up. We could have bashed her skull in downstairs and saved ourselves the trouble.”
“Idiots,” Nurse Patrick sighs, wiping his mouth.