Page 59 of Dating After the End of the World
“That you changed your mind.”
“Changed my mind?” I ask, confusion twisting my face.
“When you won RPS, you picked me to go with you. I am the best guy for the job, so that was smart on your part.” Blake pats me on the shoulder.
“I didn’t win. I lost. That’s why I’m with you.”
“Feels like a win to me,” he says with a smirk.
“That makes one of us. Now, shut up and keep your eyes peeled instead of on me.” I spin my finger in circles at him, his body turning around in response.
The situation up on the third floor is even worse than ground level. The ICU likely had some of the first people turn into biters, and the scenery before me reflects that in the most gruesome way. Bodies are piledon top of one another, more densely packed and further decayed than before. Some at the bottom of the piles have turned into rotting sludge, their essence seeping across the floor in a yellowish pus, moistening the black death streaks marking the halls. Most of the bodies look like carved turkeys after a Thanksgiving meal, small pieces of graying meat loosely hanging from bone. The hallway appears to have a dark cloud suspended in the air as what has to be hundreds of thousands of flies buzz about for the remaining morsels of food.
“It looks like we’re about to walk into hell,” Blake whispers back to me.
“That’s cuz we are.”
Pushing through the haze of insects, mouths closed tight to avoid inhaling any flies, we scan the edges of the hall, checking every room we pass to ensure no biters are waiting in ambush. Halfway down the hall, we both jolt back in panic at movement from one of the bodies on the floor. It’s a biter, but it’s so weak and decayed, it can’t even stand. Its legs are nothing but bone, covered in scratches and bite marks. It lifts its head, its eyes bouncing back and forth, widening with excitement. The creature reaches its arm out, planting a hand on the ground as it tries to pull itself forward, but the bone gives out, and its skull smacks down against its arm. With a look of desperation, it begins gnawing at its own skin, chewing the dried flesh like a piece of jerky that’s been left out in the sun.
As we continue, we notice half a dozen or more biters like this one, too weak to move.
“What’s wrong with them?” Blake asks, crouched down in front of one that’s trying to eat the bones of a nearby corpse.
“They’re starving,” I say, looking at the caved-in face of another biter, which is essentially just a skull with rotting eyeballs.
Near the biter, a body wearing a white doctor’s coat is leaned up against the wall. I reach into its pocket and fish around.
“Are you robbing the dead now?” Blake asks, staring at my hand with a look of shame.
I pull out a name badge with a barcode on the back, the laminate still glistening in the dim light.
“No, just borrowing. If the backup generators are keeping the reserve power running, then the pharmacy will still be locked.” I hold up the badge. “And this will open it.”
“Good thinking, Pearson.”
“I know.” I stand and begin moving down the hall with more confidence, since the area seems clear of any biters capable of doing us harm.
At the nurses’ station in the middle of the floor, a body is draped over the desk, arms hanging down to the ground with only the bones left in place. I hop over it and open the drawers along the wall, pulling out untouched supplies. Gauze, tongue depressors, disposable gloves, iodine, and a half dozen other items.
“Come here.” I wave Blake over. “Turn around.” Unzipping his backpack, I stuff everything inside it until his pack is so full, it becomes difficult to zip closed.
“What’s in there?”
“First aid supplies, pain meds, disinfectant.”
“Good find,” he says, readjusting the bag on his shoulders to account for the increased weight.
“All right, we’re almost to the pharmacy room. Follow me.” I take the lead again, heading down the hall. I can finally see the med room. A badge scanner is mounted outside it, and I take off at a jog, passing by the final few rooms.
Suddenly, I’m slammed into the wall. A shriek pierces right into my ear as two hands dig at my sides, fingers pressing hard as they try to puncture my skin. I whip my head around just in time to see the open maw of a biter, closing in on my nose, ready to rip it clean off my face. I stifle my own scream.
A flash of metal fills the open hole, Blake’s knife stabbing down through its skull and into its mouth. The biter slinks to the ground, its jaw still chomping up and down like a set of windup teeth.
“Jesus fucking Christ.” I wipe the saliva from my face and try not to think too hard on whether I just pissed myself.
“You’re welcome.” Blake smiles, pulling the knife from the creature’s head.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” I wave off his heroics, even though he did just save my life.
