to make the decisions from here on in.
There was a click within the doorknob. Jared retracted the clip and took a step back.
'Give it a try,' he said.
Terry stepped up, placed his hand around the doorknob, and gave it a gentle twist. When the door pulled silently out of its frame, Terry felt bad for how he had been treating his supposed friend.
'Well done,' Terry whispered. 'You did good.'
Jared smiled. 'Thanks.'
They stood for a moment, breathing deeply, aware that anything could be on the opposite side of the door. Terry could feel the anxiety generated by both of them; the air around them was practically thick enough to run a blade through. It was like waiting for the impending apocalypse; like seeing the mushroom cloud off in the distance, and knowing that you couldn't outrun it.
'Wait here,' Terry said. 'I'll go take a look.'
Jared didn't argue.
*
Marla turned the corner into another corridor, and realised that she hadn't a clue where she was. The entire prison seemed to be made up of the same generic, white corridors; the only way to determine where you were was to gauge the paint damage on the walls, which were peeling from years of neglect.
She noticed that the heat was suddenly palpable, as if somebody had turned the AC off. Beads of sweat formed on her forehead, and she wiped them away with the back of her hand.
For a moment, she felt like she was being watched, but that could have just been her mind playing tricks on her, which it was apt to do under the circumstances.
What was happening? Why was she attacked? What had happened to Charles Dean and his merry band of guards? None of it made any sense. She had known, though, that something was going on when the sickness began to take hold of the infected. She was a good doctor, at least she thought she was, and would have been able to diagnose a simple fever without much ado, but the sudden temperature increase – almost thirty degrees in less than a few hours – and the strange, almost docile, mannerisms of the infected, she couldn't explain that. It was beyond the realms of her comprehension.
She slowly made her way up the corridor, passing by doors that were either locked, or blocked by cleaning equipment. She was about to make a decision and try one of the doors when the man appeared from nowhere.
Marla didn't scream; she couldn't. Her heart seemed to jump up into her mouth and prevent anything from emerging.
'It's okay,' the man said. 'I'm not gonna hurt you.'
She was pretty sure that, at some point during her life, she had heard those exact words only to be fooled a few seconds later. She was taking no chances. In her hand, she was clutching the paperweight, and now she lifted it into the air and began to shake it threateningly.
'You stay back,' she said. 'I'll fucking kill you.'
She didn't know where her words came from, but they didn't betray what she thought she would do.
'There's no need to be killing anyone,' the man said. 'So just calm down.'
Marla scanned the man, who was wearing white coveralls which meant that he was non-violent, for a concealed weapon, but if he was carrying one, it was extremely well hidden.
'Who are you?' she gasped, swallowing hard.
'My name's Terry,' he said, offering a sweet smile. 'Terry Lewis.'
Marla lowered the paperweight, as if the knowing of his name made him less of a threat. She was about to speak, to ask questions that perhaps he knew the answer to, when another man appeared out of the door behind Terry.
He was running towards her, his face contorted with violence, his voice attempting something of a scream.
Marla recoiled, raised the paperweight once again, and waited for the man to reach her.
He didn't.
As the man was level with Terry Lewis, Terry threw out an arm, which hit the new man in the throat. He crumpled to the ground, where he began to roll around, clutching at himself where the fist had connected.
'Never mind him,' Terry said, as calm and collected as was possible. 'He tends to
There was a click within the doorknob. Jared retracted the clip and took a step back.
'Give it a try,' he said.
Terry stepped up, placed his hand around the doorknob, and gave it a gentle twist. When the door pulled silently out of its frame, Terry felt bad for how he had been treating his supposed friend.
'Well done,' Terry whispered. 'You did good.'
Jared smiled. 'Thanks.'
They stood for a moment, breathing deeply, aware that anything could be on the opposite side of the door. Terry could feel the anxiety generated by both of them; the air around them was practically thick enough to run a blade through. It was like waiting for the impending apocalypse; like seeing the mushroom cloud off in the distance, and knowing that you couldn't outrun it.
'Wait here,' Terry said. 'I'll go take a look.'
Jared didn't argue.
*
Marla turned the corner into another corridor, and realised that she hadn't a clue where she was. The entire prison seemed to be made up of the same generic, white corridors; the only way to determine where you were was to gauge the paint damage on the walls, which were peeling from years of neglect.
She noticed that the heat was suddenly palpable, as if somebody had turned the AC off. Beads of sweat formed on her forehead, and she wiped them away with the back of her hand.
For a moment, she felt like she was being watched, but that could have just been her mind playing tricks on her, which it was apt to do under the circumstances.
What was happening? Why was she attacked? What had happened to Charles Dean and his merry band of guards? None of it made any sense. She had known, though, that something was going on when the sickness began to take hold of the infected. She was a good doctor, at least she thought she was, and would have been able to diagnose a simple fever without much ado, but the sudden temperature increase – almost thirty degrees in less than a few hours – and the strange, almost docile, mannerisms of the infected, she couldn't explain that. It was beyond the realms of her comprehension.
She slowly made her way up the corridor, passing by doors that were either locked, or blocked by cleaning equipment. She was about to make a decision and try one of the doors when the man appeared from nowhere.
Marla didn't scream; she couldn't. Her heart seemed to jump up into her mouth and prevent anything from emerging.
'It's okay,' the man said. 'I'm not gonna hurt you.'
She was pretty sure that, at some point during her life, she had heard those exact words only to be fooled a few seconds later. She was taking no chances. In her hand, she was clutching the paperweight, and now she lifted it into the air and began to shake it threateningly.
'You stay back,' she said. 'I'll fucking kill you.'
She didn't know where her words came from, but they didn't betray what she thought she would do.
'There's no need to be killing anyone,' the man said. 'So just calm down.'
Marla scanned the man, who was wearing white coveralls which meant that he was non-violent, for a concealed weapon, but if he was carrying one, it was extremely well hidden.
'Who are you?' she gasped, swallowing hard.
'My name's Terry,' he said, offering a sweet smile. 'Terry Lewis.'
Marla lowered the paperweight, as if the knowing of his name made him less of a threat. She was about to speak, to ask questions that perhaps he knew the answer to, when another man appeared out of the door behind Terry.
He was running towards her, his face contorted with violence, his voice attempting something of a scream.
Marla recoiled, raised the paperweight once again, and waited for the man to reach her.
He didn't.
As the man was level with Terry Lewis, Terry threw out an arm, which hit the new man in the throat. He crumpled to the ground, where he began to roll around, clutching at himself where the fist had connected.
'Never mind him,' Terry said, as calm and collected as was possible. 'He tends to
Similar Books
