smell north of Hell greeted us. I clapped a hand over my nose and mouth, the mixture of decomposition and sulfur triggering my gag reflex. I’d rather take a shower in the moldy school stalls than go into this place.
Roth entered first, holding the door open with his booted foot. “Don’t wimp out on me.”
I let the door slam this time, because the idea of touching anything down here grossed me out. “How do you think he got in?”
“Don’t know.”
“Why do you think he’s here?”
“Don’t know.”
“Real helpful,” I muttered.
Large metal cabinets full of God knows what cramped the corridor we traveled and the heat dampened my brow with a fine sheet of sweat. The overhead light swayed in the breezeless room, casting shadows across vacant workbenches and tools scattered across the floor. We squeezed past a stack of old chalkboards, more white than green.
“I think this is a bad idea,” I whispered, fighting the urge to latch on to the back of Roth’s shirt.
“And your point is?” Roth pushed open another door leading to a dark room where heavy machinery droned. The door banged into a stack of cardboard boxes.
Out of the darkness, a skeleton fell across the doorway, arms and legs flailing in the damp, musty air. The eye sockets were empty and sightless, jaw hanging open in a silent scream. I let out a hoarse shriek, jumping back.
“It’s not real.” Roth picked up the skeleton and examined it. “It’s what they use in your biology classes. See.” He wiggled an off-white bony arm at me. “Totally fake.”
My heart didn’t agree, but I could see the metal bolts holding the arm bones together. “Oh, sweet baby Jesus...”
Grinning, Roth tossed the skeleton aside. I winced as it bounced, bones clattering when it hit whatever Roth had thrown it at.
And then something growled.
I froze.
Roth flipped on the overhead light. “Whoops,” he murmured.
It stood in front of the boiler, a fake arm bone in its blackened hand and the rest of the skeleton lying at its feet. Thin wisps of air wriggled out of the patchy skin like brown worms. Areas of its face were missing flesh. A strip on the cheek flapped against the purplish lips, and what skin remained hung from the bones, heavily creased and resembling dried-out beef jerky. It also wore a suit that had most definitely seen better days—days that didn’t involve seeping bodily fluids.
Behind the boiler, the only window in the room was broken. That explained how it had gotten into school, but gave us no clue about why it was here.
Roth let out a low whistle.
The zombie’s eyes moved to Roth and kept on moving. At least one did. It went right out the eye socket, flying through the air, splattering across the muck-covered floor.
“Oh! Oh, no. No. I didn’t sign up for this!” I clamped my hand over my mouth, gagging. “I’m not going near that thing.”
Roth stepped forward, eyeing the mess on the floor as if fascinated. “That was pretty gross.”
I felt exposed standing in the doorway by myself. Inching closer to Roth, I kept my gaze on the zombie. I’d never seen one in such bad condition. God knows it had to have chomped on people by now, but the Wardens should’ve been notified through their contacts.
My movement drew the zombie’s one good eye. “You,” it gurgled.
I stopped. They could talk? Guess George Romero missed out on that. “Me?”
“Hey. Don’t look at her. Look at me,” ordered Roth, his voice heavy with authority.
It struggled to get its mouth to work right. “You...needs...”
“Um...why is it staring at me?” I gripped the strap on my back until my knuckles hurt.
“Maybe it thinks you’re pretty,” Roth quipped, stepping back as a rat ran in front of him.
I shot him a hateful look.
The zombie lurched, its left foot sliding forward. I stepped back, bumping into more boxes. “Roth...?”
With slow, purposeful movements, the zombie winged the skeleton arm at Roth’s head. Bones in the
Roth entered first, holding the door open with his booted foot. “Don’t wimp out on me.”
I let the door slam this time, because the idea of touching anything down here grossed me out. “How do you think he got in?”
“Don’t know.”
“Why do you think he’s here?”
“Don’t know.”
“Real helpful,” I muttered.
Large metal cabinets full of God knows what cramped the corridor we traveled and the heat dampened my brow with a fine sheet of sweat. The overhead light swayed in the breezeless room, casting shadows across vacant workbenches and tools scattered across the floor. We squeezed past a stack of old chalkboards, more white than green.
“I think this is a bad idea,” I whispered, fighting the urge to latch on to the back of Roth’s shirt.
“And your point is?” Roth pushed open another door leading to a dark room where heavy machinery droned. The door banged into a stack of cardboard boxes.
Out of the darkness, a skeleton fell across the doorway, arms and legs flailing in the damp, musty air. The eye sockets were empty and sightless, jaw hanging open in a silent scream. I let out a hoarse shriek, jumping back.
“It’s not real.” Roth picked up the skeleton and examined it. “It’s what they use in your biology classes. See.” He wiggled an off-white bony arm at me. “Totally fake.”
My heart didn’t agree, but I could see the metal bolts holding the arm bones together. “Oh, sweet baby Jesus...”
Grinning, Roth tossed the skeleton aside. I winced as it bounced, bones clattering when it hit whatever Roth had thrown it at.
And then something growled.
I froze.
Roth flipped on the overhead light. “Whoops,” he murmured.
It stood in front of the boiler, a fake arm bone in its blackened hand and the rest of the skeleton lying at its feet. Thin wisps of air wriggled out of the patchy skin like brown worms. Areas of its face were missing flesh. A strip on the cheek flapped against the purplish lips, and what skin remained hung from the bones, heavily creased and resembling dried-out beef jerky. It also wore a suit that had most definitely seen better days—days that didn’t involve seeping bodily fluids.
Behind the boiler, the only window in the room was broken. That explained how it had gotten into school, but gave us no clue about why it was here.
Roth let out a low whistle.
The zombie’s eyes moved to Roth and kept on moving. At least one did. It went right out the eye socket, flying through the air, splattering across the muck-covered floor.
“Oh! Oh, no. No. I didn’t sign up for this!” I clamped my hand over my mouth, gagging. “I’m not going near that thing.”
Roth stepped forward, eyeing the mess on the floor as if fascinated. “That was pretty gross.”
I felt exposed standing in the doorway by myself. Inching closer to Roth, I kept my gaze on the zombie. I’d never seen one in such bad condition. God knows it had to have chomped on people by now, but the Wardens should’ve been notified through their contacts.
My movement drew the zombie’s one good eye. “You,” it gurgled.
I stopped. They could talk? Guess George Romero missed out on that. “Me?”
“Hey. Don’t look at her. Look at me,” ordered Roth, his voice heavy with authority.
It struggled to get its mouth to work right. “You...needs...”
“Um...why is it staring at me?” I gripped the strap on my back until my knuckles hurt.
“Maybe it thinks you’re pretty,” Roth quipped, stepping back as a rat ran in front of him.
I shot him a hateful look.
The zombie lurched, its left foot sliding forward. I stepped back, bumping into more boxes. “Roth...?”
With slow, purposeful movements, the zombie winged the skeleton arm at Roth’s head. Bones in the
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