Page 60 of Dating After the End of the World
He faces me in a huff, squinting. “Are you gonna stay mad at me for forever?” Blake snaps.
“No ... just until you die. Or I die. Actually, if you would have just let that thing kill me, I would have been done being mad at you.”
“You’re impossible.” He shakes his head in frustration.
I ignore him and swipe the badge across the reader. We’ve got more important things to focus on than feelings. The small light turns from red to green, and the lock clicks out of place as I push the door open. This time, I let Blake take the lead, scanning the room to make sure it’s safe to enter.
“Clear,” he whispers, gently pulling me in and closing the door behind us.
“You should stay out in the hall,” I say.
“Why?”
“In case there are more biters like the one that just attacked me. We don’t want to be surprised when we try and make a quick exit, nor do I want to get trapped in here. There’s only one way out.”
He starts to open his mouth like he’s going to argue with me, but instead he nods and heads out into the hall, pulling the door closed behind him.
I make a beeline to the refrigerated cabinet, hoping it’s still working off the generator reserve. A wave of cool air hits my face, and glistening in front of me like crystals are more than twenty-five bottles of insulin, safe and intact. I grab all of them, stuffing them into my backpack, careful not to break them. I scan the room, noticing the shelves are mostly still stocked and untouched since the world ended. Dozens and dozens of bottles of antibiotics, cholesteroland blood pressure medications, stronger painkillers, muscle relaxers, liver and gastrointestinal medications—you name it, it’s here, waiting to be plucked like a ripe apple from a tree.
“This is a gold mine,” I whisper to myself, grabbing everything in sight.
Once my bag is stuffed full, I open the door, expecting to find Blake standing guard, but he’s nowhere to be seen. I frantically glance around, hoping to lay eyes on him.
“Blake!” I yell in a whisper. “Blake!”
I jog down the hall on my tiptoes, trying not to make any noise as I look into each room I pass. My head darts from left to right in panicked jerks. Room after room, each one is empty, and I begin to worry even more, contemplating the worst. I skid to a stop, twisting backward as I gaze into an ICU room behind me on the left. Standing just inside the doorframe, staring into it, is Blake, his back covered with the bulging rucksack.
“Blake!” I whisper, trying to get his attention.
At first, I think I hear him respond in a low grunt, not saying any words, instead just making a sound to let me know he heard me. But his body doesn’t move, and the grunt turns into a moan, steady and longer than the first one. I creep behind Blake and peer around him, finally seeing what it is he’s staring at.
In the middle of the room, a biter sways back and forth, emaciated to the point its ribs are showing, and its skin hangs loose on its bones like all the muscle has melted away. It’s barely able to stand as it inches toward Blake. The biter’s arms are stretched out in front like a mummy, trying to keep its balance.
“Blake, let’s go,” I whisper to him.
He doesn’t respond. What the hell is his problem? Why is he just staring at this thing, frozen in time, like when we first entered the hospital?
“Blake! What the fuck are you doing? We’ve gotta go.”Still nothing.
I reach forward and yank on the bag slung over his shoulders, but his body is rigid, promptly snapping back into place. I try to move around him, but he fills the doorframe. The biter is now less than six feet away from him, so I yank on him again.
“Blake!” I scream at the top of my lungs, filling the entire floor of the hospital with my voice, hoping that’ll snap him back to reality. His head rattles, and he glances back at me, finding the source of the scream, only to see me pointing behind him, a look of horror on my face.
He turns just as the biter lunges at him, using its last bit of strength to reach for his body. Blake raises his arm in front of his face, shielding himself. The biter sinks its teeth right into his arm; blood secretes from his flesh, dripping off his elbow and onto the floor.
My eyes nearly split at the corners.No. No. No. No. No. This can’t be happening ...
Chapter 25
With knife in hand and Blake now out of the doorframe, there’s space for me to get to the biter, although ... it’s too late. I lunge forward, forcing the blade up underneath its chin. It pushes through the soft, decaying flesh, crunching past cartilage, and punctures the brain stem. The creature instantly goes rigid. I jerk the knife down and shove the biter back, black sludge pouring out of the new hole I created as its body splats against the floor.
“What the fuck, Blake!?” I grab his shoulder, spinning him to face me. “What did you do?”
He’s just as stiff as the biter and stands there motionless. It’s like he’s looking right through me. Tears fall from the corners of his unblinking green eyes, trickling down his blanched skin. I shake him, trying to get him to respond, but he doesn’t.
The sleeve below his elbow is stained red. Blood streams down his hand and fingers, dripping onto the white tile, forming a small puddle.Shit!I riffle through the rucksack hung on his shoulder, fishing out cotton pads, a half-empty bottle of rubbing alcohol, and a bandage wrap.
“Blake,” I say, taking his arm in my hand. He doesn’t resist my help, and I’m not sure he even realizes I’m helping him, because he doesn’t respond to my touch. I carefully roll up his sleeve, inspecting the wound. A fractured blood moon outlined with deep craters is engraved into his skin, one half displayed on either side of his forearm where the biter sank its teeth. It’s in the exact same spot as my bite. I unscrewthe rubbing alcohol and generously pour it onto the wound. It should burn, but Blake doesn’t flinch. Covering the torn and frayed flesh with several bandages, I press the cotton tightly against the lesions to slow the bleeding.
