nodded. “Sorry.”
Roger returned the nod. “It’s okay,” he said, looking down at the concrete floor. “She died about a year ago. And, all things considered,” he waved in a general upward direction and finished, his voice barely above a whisper, “it’s just as well.” Then he stopped, seeming to remember something. “What did you think of that made you want to come back here?”
Andy nodded. He had reached the corner, around which he expected the cafeteria. He hadn’t seen anyone enter the classroom from that back door since they had gotten down there, and couldn’t remember any noise from the area, either.
“The cafeteria,” he said to Roger. “The people who went to eat.” He saw Roger’s footsteps slow for a second before he caught his pace.
The two men turned the corner. On the left, only a few feet down, there were a pair of swinging doors. All the other doors in the hallway before the turn, and everything beyond these two, were easily closed, easily locked doors, but these two were simple, with pale doors with metal panels where you would push to open and tempered glass windows that let clinical yellow light flow out.
That shaft of yellow light, though, was broken up by the hands.
As many hands as could fit in the two small rectangles were slapping at the tempered glass, hitting the windows with open palms. As if on instinct, Roger started to hurry to the doors, but Andy reached out his arm and stopped him.
“Those aren’t people,” Andy said to Roger’s curious look. The noise from the slapping at the door had just started, leading Andy to believe he and Roger had spoken loudly enough to draw attention to themselves. The doors were bulging outward slightly, like a balloon about to burst. Andy hurried toward the door himself, stopping a few feet shy, and stood on his toes to see through the windows. Indeed, he saw any number of the undead, and zero remaining humans.
“Why can’t they get out?” Roger said, creeping up behind Andy.
Andy knelt down and looked between the metal panels. There was something stuck between the handles of the door on that side. Andy tentatively tapped the doors and nodded, satisfied the barrier would hold. Then he stood up again and looked back through the windows.
“What are you looking for?” Roger asked.
Andy scanned the room for a minute, then nodded. “Do you remember when we first got here?” he asked. “There was a woman with her son outside, coaching him.”
Roger nodded. “If you’re trapped, sacrifice yourself,” he said, remembering. “You think that’s what happened?”
Andy pointed through the window. About 10 feet back, behind the biggest throng, he saw the woman’s heavyset son walking around mindlessly. In the back of the room, barely visible from his vantage point, he saw a corpse that had been eaten almost bare, recognizable only by the gaudy blue earring he could see lying next to its head.
“I’m sure,” he said.
“What do we do?”
“There’s nothing to do,” Andy said, moving past the room. “Maybe she was right, maybe she was wrong, but at this point there are only zombies behind that door. We can’t help them, and letting them out certainly isn’t the right answer.” He tried the next door down the hall, across from the cafeteria. “We just look for anyone else down here.”
Roger took a moment. He put his hand on the door to the cafeteria, only increasing the groans from the other side. “I’m sorry,” he said to the door before shaking his head and following Andy.
At the end of that hallway, Andy saw light poking out from inside a closed office. He could tell that Roger saw it as well, and both men picked up their paces as they approached it. As they drew near, Andy could hear some music playing inside.
Roger got there first and offered a tentative knock. When no response came, he tried again, harder. The music stopped seconds later, but still no one came to the door.
Andy stepped ahead of Roger
Roger returned the nod. “It’s okay,” he said, looking down at the concrete floor. “She died about a year ago. And, all things considered,” he waved in a general upward direction and finished, his voice barely above a whisper, “it’s just as well.” Then he stopped, seeming to remember something. “What did you think of that made you want to come back here?”
Andy nodded. He had reached the corner, around which he expected the cafeteria. He hadn’t seen anyone enter the classroom from that back door since they had gotten down there, and couldn’t remember any noise from the area, either.
“The cafeteria,” he said to Roger. “The people who went to eat.” He saw Roger’s footsteps slow for a second before he caught his pace.
The two men turned the corner. On the left, only a few feet down, there were a pair of swinging doors. All the other doors in the hallway before the turn, and everything beyond these two, were easily closed, easily locked doors, but these two were simple, with pale doors with metal panels where you would push to open and tempered glass windows that let clinical yellow light flow out.
That shaft of yellow light, though, was broken up by the hands.
As many hands as could fit in the two small rectangles were slapping at the tempered glass, hitting the windows with open palms. As if on instinct, Roger started to hurry to the doors, but Andy reached out his arm and stopped him.
“Those aren’t people,” Andy said to Roger’s curious look. The noise from the slapping at the door had just started, leading Andy to believe he and Roger had spoken loudly enough to draw attention to themselves. The doors were bulging outward slightly, like a balloon about to burst. Andy hurried toward the door himself, stopping a few feet shy, and stood on his toes to see through the windows. Indeed, he saw any number of the undead, and zero remaining humans.
“Why can’t they get out?” Roger said, creeping up behind Andy.
Andy knelt down and looked between the metal panels. There was something stuck between the handles of the door on that side. Andy tentatively tapped the doors and nodded, satisfied the barrier would hold. Then he stood up again and looked back through the windows.
“What are you looking for?” Roger asked.
Andy scanned the room for a minute, then nodded. “Do you remember when we first got here?” he asked. “There was a woman with her son outside, coaching him.”
Roger nodded. “If you’re trapped, sacrifice yourself,” he said, remembering. “You think that’s what happened?”
Andy pointed through the window. About 10 feet back, behind the biggest throng, he saw the woman’s heavyset son walking around mindlessly. In the back of the room, barely visible from his vantage point, he saw a corpse that had been eaten almost bare, recognizable only by the gaudy blue earring he could see lying next to its head.
“I’m sure,” he said.
“What do we do?”
“There’s nothing to do,” Andy said, moving past the room. “Maybe she was right, maybe she was wrong, but at this point there are only zombies behind that door. We can’t help them, and letting them out certainly isn’t the right answer.” He tried the next door down the hall, across from the cafeteria. “We just look for anyone else down here.”
Roger took a moment. He put his hand on the door to the cafeteria, only increasing the groans from the other side. “I’m sorry,” he said to the door before shaking his head and following Andy.
At the end of that hallway, Andy saw light poking out from inside a closed office. He could tell that Roger saw it as well, and both men picked up their paces as they approached it. As they drew near, Andy could hear some music playing inside.
Roger got there first and offered a tentative knock. When no response came, he tried again, harder. The music stopped seconds later, but still no one came to the door.
Andy stepped ahead of Roger
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