The Most Uncommon Cold I - Life in the Time of Zombies by Jeffrey Littorno Page A

picked up until I was forced to trot to keep up with him.
         “It’s been a while since I was back here, but the ladder should be right up here,”  he said moving slowly along the dark, narrow space between the building and the tall, white cinder block wall.
         “I hope-,” whatever I was going to say was interrupted by a loud bang and crash as the gate gave way.
          “Shit!”  Glen squawked and began to run into the intensely dark area ahead. 
         I instinctively looked backward in the direction of the gate even though it was out of my view.  There was a sort of soft squeaking sound from where Glen had disappeared that brought me back around.  It was too dark to make out the source of the sound.  Although a dark place was the last place I wanted to be, those things were charging ahead, and I had no choice.  I ran in Glen’s footsteps and was thrilled to see him pulling a fire escape ladder down with a metal hook. 
        “We need to get up here!”  Glen shouted when he saw me and started climbing.
         I could think of no clever reply to his statement of the obvious and so simply scurried up after him. 
         Glen grabbed my arm and pulled me up as I climbed through the space at the top of the ladder and onto the metal platform.  We both looked to the ground as the mob swarmed into the narrow alleyway.  They milled around and seemed to be without any idea as to what to do after finding the area empty.  I watched the things below us and began to notice some similar characteristics.  None of the them showed facial expressions that I could recognize as anger or happiness.  They all looked pale.  At first, I heard no words spoken – only grunts and moans, but then another pair of them entered into the alley. 
         “Where?”  A tall thin man in dark green coveralls with Tim embroidered in gold thread above his right breast asked. 
         “Up there!”  The muscular guy wearing white t-shirt and blue jeans yelled as he pointed at Glen and me. 
         As if sharing the same thought at being discovered, both of us jumped forward and yanked the ladder up from the ground.  Glen flipped a hook over the ladder which prevented it from being accessed from the ground. 
         Glen and I were mesmerized by the scene below us.  The group seemed totally unorganized, shuffling here and there without any clear aim.  But that changed when the two speaking members of the mob moved forward. 
         “Go there!”  Tim yelled and pointed.
         Listening to the simple, undeveloped speech, I was reminded of the old Westerns where Indians were shown as savages.  Then it occurred to me that maybe these things were not much different.  The almost animal-like movements of the group fit the picture of primitive man.  Before I could catch myself a laugh burst from my chest, and Glen stared at me with concern and some suspicion. 
         “ You’re not losing it, are you?” he asked with a shaky voice and shakier smile. 
         I considered the question carefully before replying, “Maybe I am.  I don’t know. Just thinking that those things sort of look like cavemen.”
         Glen’s smile was instantly replaced by an expression of confusion. “Look at them.  They seem totally confused by everything, not able to put a complex thought together,” I explained.
         Glen was quiet and just turned back to look at the things below us. We watched several of them stretch their arms upward pointlessly trying to reach the ladder which was at least ten feet beyond their reach. 
         There was a short woman with curly, blonde hair in a worn white bathrobe who had her arm stretched upward and was spinning around slowly. I am not sure why this woman more than any of the others struck a chord within me.  For some reason, her appearance put everything into perspective.  I imagined her at home nursing what she thought was just another