Eliza woke with a groan, not because of a hangover or the memory of doing something stupid, just a groan bemoaning the fact she was awake. Sure the Army did things, like expect you to wake up and work at some god-awful hour, but that didn’t mean she enjoyed it. Realizing she wasn’t going to go back to sleep, there was too much noise outside, though her sleep stunned brain couldn’t quite process it.

Instead, she grabbed her phone and put on some music to help her wake up. Trading the light top she’d slept in for a t-shirt and some shorts, she yawned and shuffled towards the bathroom. Scratching a post-sleep itch, she mentally grimaced. Get’n a bit soft there… She shook her head, those were thoughts for after the vacation. She was just stepping though the bathroom door, when a loud ‘thump’ against the outer room door made her jump. Some ass either still drunk, or fuck by a hangover from that shitty-assed con- Her thought ending abruptly as the ‘thump’ came again.

Now annoyed, she killed her music. ”Hey, fuck off and ruin someone else’s morning!” She snapped. As she glared at the door, she began to register the sounds she’d heard earlier. She still couldn’t process why there was screaming and shouting, but it made her blood run cold. Moving back towards her bed, she wrapped a hand around the lamp that was on the bedside table and yanked the cord free from the wall; all the while the ‘thumping’ against her door continued. With her other hand she tried to call the Front Desk with the room phone, only to find dead air when she lifted the receiver. ”SHIT!”

Eyes fixed on the door she backed towards the balcony, pushing the sliding glass door open with her free hand; suddenly a cacophony of screams, moans and shouting erupted as she stepped outside. Keeping her peripheral vision on her room door she looked about. All she could really tell was that the resort seemed to have devolved into pure chaos. The sound at her door seemed to pick up. Fuck…okay third floor, just high enough to fuck myself up…

Not wanting to risk whoever was outside her door, Eliza dropped the lamp and headed to the railing, opting to lower herself to the second floor and hopefully exit via that room to get security, or failing that, keep going to the ground.

---

"Hello? Yeah, I just got to the gate. Uhhhh, should be there within a few hours or so. I got it; don't worry, Perce. Sorry, 'Percy'. No, I know how important this is. Listen, it's fine, no need to stress out. You said this show was at a beautiful island resort, so we'll have some time to kick back and soak up the sun. You good? Alright. Yeah. O-okay, Percy, I gotta... I gotta go; getting on the plane. Yeah. Yeah, okay. Alright, bye."

Elijah flicked at his phone's screen, bringing the drop-down menu into view and tapping on airplane mode. With a sigh, he slipped the phone back into his pocket as he shuffled along within the slowly-moving line. Trying to calm his manager down was doing no good when he was stressed himself. He could feel the tension in his chest, the rising anxiety of performing. Despite the tour being fairly small, this last stop was a make-or-break opportunity. If he did well here, he'd have the chance to go international. If he failed...

He broke away from the thought and found himself in the aisle of the airplane, taking the time to check his ticket. Seat A10. It was a window seat towards the front of the plane. His brow furrowed a little, but he pushed his concerns aside as he opened up the compartment above his row, sliding the faded-green duffel bag inside. Once the compartment door was shut, he slid into the row and settled into his seat, his arms upon the armrests. A couple minutes later, the rest of the seats in his row were filled, unknown faces buried into their own methods of passing time.

First, it was the captain's message, and then the choreography of flight attendants as they mimicked safety measures, latching invisible oxygen masks onto themselves and each other. Every so often, the cry of a child who couldn't seem to get used to such a foreign concept as an airplane about to take off. Yeah, I feel you, kid, Elijah thought. When the speeches were done and the passengers were left to their own devices, Elijah took a moment to draw the windowblind closed as he felt the plane begin to move. The person next to him, an older woman, noticed this and smiled warmly before looking back down at her e-book.

"Not a fan of flying?" she asked.

"Not a fan of taking off," Elijah replied. The woman giggled, and Elijah could feel the heat of embarrassment rushing to his face.



Elijah exited the gate and into the waiting area, clutching his stomach. He was never a fan of flying, but something about the turbulence shook him up, not to mention the several people that had gotten sick on the flight. As he struggled to stabilize himself, he did a few stretches to get his body back into working order, his eyes scanning the area for the way to baggage claim. Following the placards, he pulled out his phone, turned off airplane mode and proceeded to check his messages. Couple notifications from social media, several emails from different prospects, a couple voicemails from Percy. Sounded about the usual.

Arriving at baggage claim, Elijah set his duffel bag down in front of him and waited, only to be interrupted by a short, stout man wearing a floral shirt and khaki shorts. His head was largely balding, save for the arch of hair that wrapped around the back of his head. His eyes were covered with thick-rimmed sunglasses, his fingers with various rings that held no value. As he approached, he tapped Elijah on the arm. Elijah looked to his left, saw no one, and then looked down, stifling a laugh.

"Hey, Percy," Elijah greeted him. Percy's lips pouted. "Don't 'Hey, Percy' me," the manager replied. "You got everything?"

Before Elijah could respond, his attention was caught by a guitar case that wheeled around on the conveyor. With little effort, he slipped his fingers around the handle and lifted it from the rotating gallery of objects, smiling. "I do now," he retorted.

"Good. Here's the plan. We touch down at the resort and mingle with the owners; you know—"

"Perce."

"—get in good graces with them. Then, you start practi—"

"Percy."

"—cing until it's time to hit the sack, and then the NEXT day... oh, God, forgot about the meet-up and—"

"Uncle!"

Before Percy knew it, they were at the airport entrance. He stared up at Elijah, a towering colossus compared to himself, eyes wide but obscured by the dark shades. Elijah wore an expression reminiscent of concern as he waved for them to keep walking. "I already talked to the owners of the resort. I got everything straightened away. All I need to do—and all you need to do—is relax and take in the scenery. Bury your feet in the sand, get a few Mai Tais, enjoy yourself. Okay?"

Percy didn't say anything as they flagged down a taxi and got inside, but deep down, he was impressed. A few years prior, Elijah was a floundering musician that knew nothing about what it took to get his name out there, but now, he was taking the reins. Maybe Percy could finally relax, knowing Elijah's future was in good hands. Leo and Marie would be proud.



Elijah awoke in his bed, still wearing the same outfit from last night. He could hear the blood rushing through his ears, his head throbbing with a dull ache. Nothing a tall glass of water and a couple of aspirin can't fix, he thought, and so he downed both at the first chance he got. Next up on the docket was to grab a shower and get changed. Judging by the clock, Elijah knew he had plenty of time, so he could probably spend a little of it checking out the beach. Percy shouldn't mind too much.

There were sounds of soft banging on the door. "Little early for you to be up, Perce!" Elijah shouted from the bathroom, stripping down and stepping inside the shower. Before turning it on, he called out again. "Give me like twenty minutes!"

Twenty minutes later, he was out and dressed, toothbrush in his mouth as he brushed his hair. The banging on the door was still soft, but less rhythmic, happening in bursts with sparse singular hits in between. Unnerved, Elijah finished brushing his teeth and cleaned up before walking over to the door. "Percy, come on, I said I would be out in—"

As he moved to unlock the door, he stopped in his tracks, a look of worry on his face. As his eyes darted across the dark brown finish of the door, his ears picked up the muffled groans and growls of something on the other side. Elijah's muscles tensed as he called out to Percy, expecting his uncle's Brooklyn-tinged accent to respond. Nothing. He called out again. Nothing.

Concerned, Elijah backed away from the door, immediately heading to the lamp on the nightstand next to the bed. He unplugged it from the outlet and wrapped the cord around its base, then unscrewed the lampshade from the top, followed by the bulb. Holding it by the end of the bulb socket, he cautiously toed his way back up to the door, his fingers gingerly twisting the lock open. His hand then found the doorknob and gripped just tight enough to turn it, hearing the bolt slide out of the slot. Immediately, the door gave way, and Percy's body slumped forward, slamming into the ground with a resounding "OOF!"

Elijah, exasperated, let out a hefty sigh and dropped the lamp, kneeling down to help his uncle up. "Christ, Perce, you scared the shit outta me. Why didn't you say anything when I called for you?"

Percy, still inebriated, chuckled to himself as he rolled over and pulled himself up to sit. To Elijah, he seemed paler than usual, his skin lacking a little color. "S-sorry, kid. You said I should just relaaaax, you know?" He hiccuped. "In... in-in hindsight? Prrrrobably took it a... little too far, heh heh."

"Alright, well... get up on the bed and rest for a bit," Elijah advised, taking the time to place the bulb and shade back onto the lamp before plugging it back in. "I'm gonna go look around the beach for a while, get out of the room and all so I can be in a good spot for the meet and greet. I'll be back later."

Elijah heard Percy groan before he slipped his shoes on at the foot of the bed, looking out to the hallway. At first sight, he noticed several pieces of clothing and a suitcase strewn about the floor. The wallpaper looked as if it were scratched away in some places, with large patches of it missing from other parts of the wall. His brow wrinkled as he slowly got to his feet, casually stepping out into the hallway. Where he expected a well-lit corridor, he found a dark pathway, barely illuminated by floor lights, some of which flickered and faded. Occasionally, there would be a looming overhead light that would shine over a small patch of the hallway, and in that light, Elijah could see overturned baggage carts, suitcases and luggage bags strewn about in both directions.

"Percy?" Elijah uttered, slowly turning around. "What happened ou—"

Before he could finish, Percy rushed him, tackling him to the ground and attempting to bite him. On instinct, Elijah placed his forearm beneath Percy's neck, yelling at him in the hopes of getting his uncle to come to his senses, but only getting frenzied snarls in response. Percy began to scratch at Elijah's skin, to which his nephew responded by pushing him off and away. They both got to their feet within seconds. Elijah darted for the hotel room, Percy following suit and bursting through the door before Elijah could slam it shut.

Elijah found himself pressed up against the glass of the patio door, fists clenched as his uncle sped towards him. In the light, he could see Percy's graying and discolored skin, his bloodshot eyes, his bleeding gums and dirtied clothes. In the split-seconds before they'd make contact again, Elijah then noticed a small wound on the side of his uncle's leg, starting to piece the situation together.

Percy attacked Elijah again, pushing them both straight through the glass pane. As it shattered, several pieces cut Elijah's skin, a large section embedding itself into Percy's back. They struggled for a few moments, twisting about the small area as Elijah pleaded to his uncle to stop, but failing to get through to him. As Percy's teeth neared the open wound in Elijah's arm, his nephew mustered enough strength to shove him with all his might.

Elijah fell to the ground as Percy stumbled backward, slamming into the patio railing with enough force to send him barreling over the edge, screaming as he plummeted. Elijah heard the screams get quieter and further away until they were silenced by a distant thud. Shaking and seeking to catch his breath, he clambered to his feet and inched closer to the railing, taking care not to step on the glass. The part of the railing which Percy was sent over had been slicked with a dark red substance, something Elijah would avoid as he peered over the side and down to the courtyard of the resort below. He could see the floral print of Percy's shirt, surrounded by a dark shape. Looking about the other patios on the side of the building, he caught a glimpse of someone endeavoring to get to the second floor from a third-floor patio.

As he regained his composure, he strode to the bathroom and searched for a first-aid kit, finding one in the cabinet beneath the sink. Working quickly, he washed off his wounds and removed what pieces of glass found their way into his skin before disinfecting them and wrapping parts of his arms in gauze and bandages. He then searched through his luggage and found a hair tie, putting his hair into a messy bun to keep it out of the way, all before going back over the lamp and preparing it as a weapon, the same way he did before. As he stepped out into the hallway, he found himself with a mission: get to the second floor to find the person making their way down, or if all else failed, escape the resort.

Charlotte DeWitt

A notification, and then another. Charlotte grumbled some gibberish, and turned away from the source of her annoyance. She now faced the window, that which was floor-to-ceiling and wall-to-wall, allowing a hell of a lot of sunshine into the room. Was it possible to get any sleep whatsoever? She’d only been in the for a handful of days but at the rate she was heading, the odds were against her. She should have stayed in New York where she’d get more rest.

Suddenly, there was a loud bang from the room adjacent to hers, as if someone had thrown a piece of furniture at the wall separating her bed from those hellions next door. Charlotte sighed and got up on her knees, one hand resting on the bedframe while the other banged against the wall.

“Hey, knock it off! I’m trying to sleep!”

She waited for a moment, but was met with silence. Maybe that was their way of apologizing, and if so, she liked their strategy. But by then Charlotte was too wound up to go back to sleep. She unintentionally ignored her cell phone on the nightstand, the original culprit, and decided she’d have some icy water to help with the hangover from the previous night. She walked over to the kitchenette to grab the ice container, hoping no one was out in the hall. The full-length mirror hanging from the main door allowed her to see she was decent enough to step outside without eliciting too much of a response from any guests wondering outside. Charlotte had on an oversized shirt she received upon her arrival at the resort, because at nearly 4 in the morning, she wasn’t about to change into her lacy nightie.

Opening the door, she took a peek outside before walking out. The sight before her, however, was not one she was expecting. Something that looked an awful lot like blood staining the walls and carpet, bits of clutter here and there scattered in a disorganized fashion, someone lying face-down on the ground… Charlotte immediately closed the door and put the container down, walking over to her phone to call her friend Alexandra who was staying two doors down. Maybe she would know something, or at the very least she'd be able to verify that Alex was okay in the midst of whatever the hell was going on.

Cole Anderson

God my aching head

The night before was quite the event. There was everybody from rich business men, college girls, NFL players, musicians there, and there was way too much alcohol and drugs. Cole told himself that this was bad for his health, but he could afford to have some cheat days. Besides, he had just won the middle weight champion of the world last week, and this was his way of celebrating. An up and rising star in both boxing and MMA, he was proud that he was starting to make a name for himself. That also meant a bit of cash that allowed him to have such a nice place, which he didn't mind at all. He didn't do it for the money, but it surely helped.

Although this hangover did not, and he grabbed his head as he sat up in his king sized bed. Looking around, it seemed like he had half ass drunk wandered into his room and somehow made it into his bed. Maybe he didn't end up here himself. There were a lot of women he talked to last night, but there seemed to be quite the commotion. Lots of deranged drunk people snarling and fighting each other. There was a terrible amount of cocaine going around it seemed. Pity. He did remember one particular blonde he spent the night with however, and he did have quite fond memories of her. Drinking, drugs, sex, all the making of a good night. But when he woke up she was gone, so he could only assume he kicked her out or she left on her own.

After sipping some water he could hear a faint siren echoing outside of his room, and he raised an eyebrow. Was there some kind of fire alarm going on? Or maybe there was just some really loud music. He wasn't sure, but just in case, he decided to dress himself and stuff some shit in a backpack. His attire consisted of a white tanktop, black leather jacket, ripped jeans, combat boots, and some dark shades. His backpack consisted of his sparing gloves, a t shirt and shorts, a water bottle, a few snacks, and a first aid kit. Also his wallet, keys, and other personal items. He also kept brass knuckles on himself for safety, considering he would be a prime target to get mugged. He was planning on going to the gym to practice, so even if there was a fire drill, he'd have his shit together.

Finally he ran a comb through his thick hair, putting on his dog tags and looking himself in the mirror. Bright blue green eyes stared back at him, and he rubbed the five o'clock shadow on his face. He'd have to shave that later, but his was too lazy at the moment to really care. After inspecting himself he opened the door to his penthouse suite and gave a low whistle.

The place was absolutely trashed. Furniture was torn apart, shit thrown everyone, broken glass. Food and alcohol littered the floor, there was a pile of trash in the corner, and it seemed like a tornado hit the place. "Wow, I must have had quite the party." Cole said, looking around. Upon further inspection however, it looked like there was pools of dried blood in several spots. What the hell? It was almost like a murder scene in here. He didn't see any dead bodies, but it seemed like glass near the balcony was smashed, almost as if people launched themselves off the top floor. What the fuck happened? He made a mental note to invite less people to the after party.

He felt his phone vibrate in his pocket, reaching into it and looking to see who it was. Charlotte came up on the contact list, and after a few seconds he realized it was the girl he was with the night before. What could she want? It had only been a few hours. Hopefully she wasn't the clingy type, although with all the shit going on it might be more serious than that. He hopped up on the counter, biting into an apple from the broken fruit bowl as he put the phone to his ear.

"Miss me already? You were only here a few hours ago."

---

"Vicky," the well muscled cowboy muttered under his breathe, "will you make me the happiest rancher this side of the Mississippi?" He flicked up the brim of his hat and looked at her with his deep brown eyes.

"Of course, Daryl...of course!" She responded, smiling brightly. He grinned and wrapped his arm around her waist, hoisted her onto his horse and followed suit. "Yee haw!" He shouted as the mighty steed reered up. The city girl and the rancher road away off into the sunset, into the free west, to live happily ever-

CRASH.

Mallory blinked. Pausing "Western Plains Ambience Four Hours #2", she unplugged one of her ear phones and listened to the silence of her hotel room. Nothing. Just the gentle hum of the air conditioner, and the snoring of her friend June currently splayed out on the bed in her bikini.

Shrugging, Mallory slipped the earphone back in and went back to her novel. It was time for the epliogue.

-after. Many years later, one crisp autumn morning, a young boy, his black hair frazzled on his head, dashed out of the barn calling for his fa-

CRASH.

Concerned, Mallory set down the book and earphones. Hopping out of bed, she was wearing a variation of her usual attire. Blue dress that went below her knees, black leggings and low blue pumps. Already being dressed and having her make-up done for the day, Mallory the morning person always woke up before June did. June would probably have a hang over, and Mallory didn't want to wake up her for no reason. Quietly, she opened the door of her hotel room and glanced outside. For one thing, the lights were all off. Unlike the naturally lit hotel room, the carpeted corridor only had windows on each end. That was strange, and disconcerting.

"Hello?" She called out in english to the man silhouetted by the white sunlight at the far end of the hallway.

"Is everything okay, monsieur?" She asked. This got the man's attention. He turned and glanced over at Mallory and began making his way over. Quickly. Not casually, infact, there was an unusual slopyyness to his gait. Uh oh, he was drunk. Immediately there was a flutter of fear in her heart. What did he want? What if he was belligerent? Groaning. A groan gurgled up from deep in his throat. The fear turned to panic. What!?

"Monsieur?" She asked, her voice peaking with fear. Flickering to life, a light the man was passing under illuminated him and Mallory shrieked. One side of his face was covered in blood, the flesh missing. His eyes were milky and grey and his shirt was torn, gashes everyone. She slammed the door and locked it, and not a second afterward there was a banging on the door as the man crashed into it. Screaming again, the frenchwoman made her way over to her sleeping friend who somehow had not woken up.

"June! June! Wake up, wake up, wake up!" She pleaded with her friend in their shared native tongue. June furrowed her eyebrows and exhaled, her heavy lids fluttering open.

"Hmm? What..." Her head was jostled back and forth as Mallory pushed on her shoulder blades. Her groan became muffled as she planted her face in her pillow.

"What is it, Mallory?"

"There is a man outside. He's crazy! He's trying to get in!"

"What..is all that noise?"

"The man, June, you dumbass! He's trying to get in right now!"

"Oh...shit," June grumbled, the foggyness of alcohol fading with the adrenaline as her friends words finally registered. Mallory didn't usually swear. Pushing herself up she stood to her feet. She glanced down at herself, wearing only her floral bikini that she had passed out in last night.

"I'm not dressed for this."

"June! He's trying to get inside right now!"

"What- you locked it, didn't you?"

"Yes but-"

"Then we'll be fine. I need to get dressed. This floor is disgusting, I don't want my feet touching it any more than I have too." She walked over to the wardrobe and began digging through clothes. After a moment, Mallory stomped her foot, bewildered.

"June!"

"Mallory!" June mimicked her friends tone.

"You're not taking this seriously."

"What do you think, beige or black?" She held a black t-shirt and a beige jacket infront of her.

"Ju-u-une!"

June raised her eyebrows, thrusting the tops towards her friend.

"...Beige." Mallory answered begrudgingly.

June smiled and began removing her bikini. The modest Mallory turned her head away and back towards the door.

"Man...this guy really wants to get in. He's crazy, huh?" Mallory casually asked, slipping into a pair of fresh underwear.
"Yes, June, I told you! What if he bursts in here?"

"We'll be fine." June comforted her friend, working a pair of slacks up her slender legs, then a pair of stylish running shoes.

"Security are already on their way up, Mallory." Putting on a low-cut white t-shirt, she finished her outfit for the day with the beige jacket ontop with a small flourish.

"I don't know, June-"
"I'll call them, okay?" June offered. Her confidence wavered a little as the man continued thumping his fists and body against the door with reckless abandon. She picked up the phone and placed it to her ear. Nothing but a busy tone. Brushing a strand of brown hair against her face, June placed the hotel phone back in the reciever.
"Okay-"
"No service!?" Mallory cried out, pulling her long hair above her head in a fearful grimace. June put a hand on the taller woman's shoulder.

"It's okay, Mallory. We're going to be fine, okay? Trust me. Let me take a look at this guy."

"June, it's not good out there. The lights are out, and he...he's covered in blood."

June didn't respond, creeping toward the door that convulsed slightly with each bump. The frenchwoman neared the peephole. Mallory, took a few worried steps closer to her friend. Suddenly, the thumping stopped. Breathless, June turned to face her friend with a smile. "See?" Gingerly touching the door's wooden surface as if it might explode, June placed her eye up against the peephole.

He was still there. Glowing, chin to his chest. His muffled snarls rose up and he tossed himself against the door. Blood covered the peephole. Mallory yelped and June gasped, backing away from the door. "Uh, okay, here." Rushing across the room, she fetched one of the cushy hotel chairs tucked underneath a table with a laptop ontop of it. Carrying it high above her head, she set it down against the door and jammed it underneath the door handle. Well, tried too. It fell back onto all of it's legs, and when she rested it against the door it fell a few inches short of the handle.

"June!"

"That always works in the movies." June commented absentmindedly.

Mallory made her way over the sliding glass door and out onto the balcony. "Hey! Somebody help us, s'il vous plaît! Please!" Gasping, she looked on in horror at a woman floating face down in the pool, reddening the pool with her blood. The lifeguard stood, turned away from her, staring slackjawed at the sky. Mallory was five stories up, and the height became dizzying.

"Oh, my God, June." She turned teary-eyed her friend who had joined her at the balcony and was staring grimly at the sight below. Mallory hugged June tightly, and June patted her taller friend on the back.

"Okay, relax, Mallory. Something terrible is happening. Help will arrive soon, I'm sure of it." She was saying this to reassure herself was much as she was her friend. June disengaged from her friend and vanished inside the bathroom. Mallory sat on the bed, her heart beating a million miles a minute. Crazy people had overrun the hotel, apparently. Or...no. The thought was too horrible, too impossible, too silly. But there it was. Zombies. The man outside was a flesh eating zombie.

June glanced around the bathroom. First things first...opening the medicine cabinent, she downed some aspirin to help with her headache. Then, she looked over at the bathtub. The shower curtain was suspended by a rod. Working quickly, she detatched the metal rod and detatched the curtains from it. Now she had a decently sized metal bar. Reappearing, Mallory gasped as she saw her friend holding a weapon.

"June, do you really think..?"

"I dunno. Maybe. Better safe than sorry. Here, use this." Leaning her improvised weapon against the wall, June began working on the long lamp in the corner. Tossing off the shade and undoing the lightbulb, she placed her foot on the base and detatched the long metal rod keeping the thing upright. It was a reflective brass color. She tossed it onto the bed next to her friend. June's bar was about six feet long, and Mallory's bar was about four.
"I'll take the lead, Mallory, if he comes in." She announced, rolling the rod between her hands. Mallory glanced down at the weapon presented to her.

"...I don't want to hurt anybody."

"Well, this guy wants to hurt you. This is last resort stuff, Mallory. We'll sit tight in the meantime. Maybe he'll go away, or maybe someone will come for us, or contact us. The phone still works, I think. It's just busy."

Mallory nodded, clearly shaken. "I'll keep trying the phone." She needed something to do. Pulling the phone to her ear she began dialing the front desk. Busy. She dialed it again, busy. The frenchwomen waited for something to happen, and the thumping against their door continued.

Leon Hendrix crashed to the floor, a small frantic cry slipping from his mouth, a cry of both desperation and fear. He scrambled to his feet, clawing at the carpeted hallway floor as he rushed upright and forward. The inhuman growls of the two men close behind him chilled him to the bone. Leon steadied himself and surged forward, his veins racing with adrenaline as he ran back for his third floor room. A normally rational and laid back man, fear was all that he felt now, fear for his life which these blood soaked madmen seemed to covet ending.

It had all started just after he had awakened in the hotel room. Not his room, but the room of the foxy Japanese woman on vacation in Banoi. Unlike so many of the residents of the hotel, Leon had forgone the Sam B concert from the night before. Instead choosing to spend time at the mini-bar on the second floor. After all, Leon owned every song the hip-hop artist had released, and he had no interest in dancing around star struck amidst a chaotic conglomerate of disorienting lights and partygoers smelling of cheap beer and pineapple. After all, he could get just as lucky at a mini-bar and just as drunken.

The woman he met was a Japanese-American exchange student in her younger days, and was now attending university at USC in Los Angeles. Having been exposed too long to western culture and enjoying the freedom from her badgering Japanese parents, Leon marked her as an easy catch. After a bit of biology based chatter, bragging to her about being a college professor, and several Vodka and Jell-O shots, the pair ended up in her room for the night.

Leon woke this morning to find the woman gone and her belongings as well as various articles of furniture thrown about the room. Presumably, to him, this had meant there was a wild party or “get-together” in here that he had missed in his drunken sleep, or the woman was what they call “an angry drunk” and had left the room and was staggering about the hotel at that point.

Leon planned to wait for his hostess, until he heard the screams and shouts from throughout the hotel, as well as what sounded like at one point an emergency alarm. He threw on his clothes and decided to get back to his room, and had taken barely ten paces down the hall when he was met by two men in the hallway. A security guard and a rather obese hotel guest in a straw hat and a floral shirt. No sooner had he posed the question of what was happening then the pair went into some sort of rage induced fits of growling and groaning and began pursuing him down the hall, their arms and mouths smeared with what looked like blood.

Leon rushed into his hotel room and slammed the door behind him, the lock clicking. He then grabbed a nearby arm chair and drug it across the carpeted floor and pushed it against the door. He leapt back as a heavy blow struck the door, and it began shaking and rattling. He could hear the two psychopaths outside, growling and moaning as they beat and pounded on his door. “Shit,” he hissed , he had reached for the hotel room phone only to hear a busy signal ,”what the hell is going on?”
He checked his cell phone, the battery was fully charged but their was absolutely no service. Not a single bar to be seen flickering.

“Okay...” he mouthed to himself as the pounding at his door continued. He rushed over to the balcony and leaned over the railing, looking down below toward the entrance to the hotel. “What... the fuck?”
The single two lane road that lead through the gate was littered with what looked to be... bodies. He could see vehicles crashed together and rolled over beside the drive-in. And the sounds of screams, sirens, and ungodly roars filled his ears.

”Hello, hello?... Is anyone there? Can anyone here me?”
”Give it a rest. Nobody’s there. Me and you are the only ones left. So cut that thing off.”
“Look, there’s others out there. I know it, I’ve seen them on the monitors.”
”What, like half an hour ago? They’re probably dead by now.”

Mike Davis and Carter Perkins stood together in the security control room. Mike had first barricaded himself here during the initial outbreak. Ever since this madness had overtaken the resort hotel.

He had since been operating the security cameras and intercom systems, attempting to guide anyone he may see on the monitors to safety. This hadn’t proven too fruitful though so far. Many places in the hotel were short on power, and others suffered total outages. And many people that Mike would see on the monitors couldn’t seem to hear him, or would be overtaken before reaching safety. From what he could see, these... things seemed to have completely overrun the hotel.

Mike recognized many of them, coworkers, friends, acquaintances, all overcome with this murderous madness that had infected most of those in the resort. He sat there now in front of the monitors, eyes gliding across the screens, scanning for signs of live and survival. ”Your wasting time, we should be focused on getting a car and getting the fuck out of here.” Carter suddenly blurted our from behind Mike.

Mike scowled as he kept his eyes on the screens. Carter had shown up just short of an hour ago, and Mike already hated the prick. Mike had been rebooting the system when Carter came banging on the security room door, yelling for Mike to let him in. His shirt was specked in blood and he carried a bloody crowbar as Mike had let him in, which Mike was labeling as his first mistake of the day.

Since showing up, Carter had been badgering Mike and belittling his efforts at rescuing or aiding others. Carter so far had proven to be nothing but a pain in Mike’s proverbial ass. “I’m not giving up,” Mike said over his shoulder to Carter,”just give it another thirty minutes.”
”That’s thirty more minutes for a gang of those things to come pounding the door down. C’mon man let’s get out of here!”
“Shut up!” ” Mike snapped and turned back to the monitor.

Carter cursed and kicked over and nearby chair as Mike leaned in to the microphone,”Hello? Anyone? If anyone can hear me, please, make your way to the security control room. It’s safe here! Don’t bother with the elevators, they’re all out. Look foor fire escapes and the stairwells. Use the stairs or fire exits to make your way to the basement! The basement! If anyone’s there, come to the security control room...”

Elijah took the hallway to the right, jogging down the corridor and keeping his eyes peeled for any dangers. As he weaved past the disheveled baggage carts, he slowed down and started poring through their contents, searching for any sign of food in case surviving on the island became a priority. It was one of the first things he learned about when it came to thriving in the apocalypse, his knowledge coming from a combination of reality TV shows and the occasional internet search. In one suitcase in particular, he happened to find a single granola bar. It wasn't much, but on the grand scale, it was a start.

He eventually reached the end of the corridor, which opened out into a wide area with elevators on both sides. At the end of the area, there was a single person swaying back and forth near an open door, seemingly out of the way. Staying as silent as possible, he tiptoed his way toward an elevator, splaying his fingers over the button panel and feeling around for the down button. Once found, he pressed it firmly, waiting for a ring of light to encircle it, but no light came. Elijah began tapping the button repeatedly when a speaker crackled to life overhead, followed by voice shrouded in nervousness and fear:


"Shit," Elijah exclaimed as he stared at the speaker, dropping his arm away from the button. Nearby, the person stumbled closer, arms outstretched. The noise in the speaker seemed to draw them away from the door and towards Elijah, who now white-knuckled the lamp body in his hand. He cautiously backed up and raised the lamp above his head, aligning its solid square base with his intended target's head. For all intents and purposes, Elijah could conclude that this was, in fact, a zombie, and so while he felt a bit uneasy, he knew he could do what was necessary.

And so, he swung.

Past the open door, he found a stairwell. After roughly a few minutes of descending, he stopped to catch his breath, still reeling from the moment. He pressed his back to the wall and slid down its surface until he sat upon the floor, his head feeling light. Beside him, the blood-soaked lamp still had a piece of flesh and brain matter stuck to one of its edges. The smell of blood permeated Elijah's senses, and he hated every moment. He could smell it in the spatter on his shirt, the streaks on his hands, the spray on his face. It covered him, invaded him, debilitated him. He closed his eyes and tried to calm himself, taking deep breaths and trying to forgo the horrid scent. Though it took longer than he wished, he got himself under control and pulled himself to his feet. As his eyes darted around the stairwell, he caught a glimpse of a large, orange sign painted upon the wall, telling him what floor he was on. The second floor was just a couple flights of stairs away.

Clutching the railing, he carefully began the descent once more.

Fuckfuckfuckfuck… It turned out the balconies were a bit farther a part than she’d thought before lowering herself over the railing. Fortunately, while she had been grumbling about getting a bit ‘soft’ in the middle, a common hazard amongst support staff, she was still in quite good shape, especially in her upper body. That was all paying off as she dangled purely by her arms as she blindly felt with her toes for the railing below.

Eventually she succeeded and with a bit of friction, strength and luck, she managed to drop onto a lounge chair on the second floor balcony. Only now was she able to really look about and see what was happening…and she nearly vomited. Growing up at the race track, she’d seen some nasty things, but this out did that by a long shot. Blood splatters and torn up parts of people dotted the manicured resort grounds.

While she stood there trying to wrap her mind around the horrors before her, a shout caught her attention. An Asian looking family of four where running along one of the paths, each parent carrying a child no more than about 8 years old. The little boy clung desperately to his mother, but the little girl seemed limp in her father’s arms. Not far behind them a trio of resort staff, their gaits awkward and uneven, one of the women missing an arm, snarled and groaned as they gave chase.

She wanted to shout, to try and help, but she could tell it wouldn’t do any good. As she watched the father staggered as the girl seemed to convulse in his arms, his pace slowed slightly as he looked down at her. ”Oh God…” She groaned, dry heaving. The girl had then surged up and bit into her father’s throat. He screamed and fell, his wife looked back and screamed too, but fortunately she kept moving. As he went down, the pursuing trio fell on him like feral dogs, tearing into him. Mercifully for Eliza, his screaming only lasted moments.

Her stomach convulsed hard as it tried to make her puke, but there was nothing to bring up; this happened a couple of more times, making her eyes water, before things settled. Eventually she recovered, wiping her eyes to clear her vision. Against her own better judgment, she looked back at where the man had fallen. The trio and the girl were gone, but he still lay there in an expanding pool of blood. As she watched, he began to convulse, before eventually awkwardly rising to his feet despite massive organ damage and blood loss. Even from as far away as she was, Eliza could tell his skin had gone a sickly gray, and as he started moving it was with the same sort of staggering gait the trio had. After a few moments, he shambled off out of sight.

Part of her, a very large part, wanted to just shut down completely, deny the outside world and just pretend this was all a fucking nightmare. Fortunately her training took over. Worry about what you do RIGHT NOW, not what is beyond your control to change. It said, and it was right. She couldn’t change what had happened to that man, but she could look to what she could do for herself. Standing, she hadn’t realized she collapsed to her knees, she went over and tried the door that led into the room, fortunately finding it open.

”He-hello?” She called out, opening the door to step inside. ”There’s some weird shit going on and…and I had to climb down from the room above…I-I’m not going to hurt anyone.” She really hoped if there was anyone in the room they spoke, or at least understood, English.

The room had bags and personal effects all about, but no overt signs of the occupants. Moving into the room, her nerves on edge, she was about half way across, when a sound from the bathroom in front of her made her heart rate jump even higher than it already was. A low rasping growl, much like she’d heard outside, followed by some uncoordinated banging. Running on automatic, she made for the same type of lamp as she’d had it her room, ripping it free just as a woman, stark naked and covered in blood staggered into view.

The woman had the same sickly gray skin, and her eyes were an unsettling cloudy white, though she could apparently still see, because as soon as she faced Eliza, the snarl got louder and she launched herself forward, arms out and mouth open. Eliza did the only thing she could think of and swung the lamp as hard as she could, ‘baseball’ style. The heavy base of the lamp connected with the side of the woman’s head with a sickening ‘crack’ and knocked her sideways into the TV on the wall, leaving a blood splat on the screen. The woman didn’t move again. Eliza had only just started to process what had just happened when another sound from the bathroom, and some movement, caught her attention. A man, just as naked and blood covered, though in this case because his throat and much of the left side of his face had been torn up, charged her. She swung hard the other way, shattering his skull and dropping him to the floor.

She both needed and really wanted to leave the room, but she couldn’t, not in nothing more than a ratty CAF t-shirt and some board shorts. Doing her best to ignore the bodies, she went looking through the bags. The woman was a lot smaller than her so none of the clothing was of much help, though she did snag a few other useful items. The man was about her height, though heavier. Taking a little day pack she’d found she took a few bits of essential clothing to wear, a half box of tampons, a bottle of cologne, and some too small shirts for bandages and stuffed her feet into some half-size too large runners. Not finding anything else, she steeled herself and went into the bathroom, which was just as terrible as she’d feared. Willing herself to ignore the horror, she cleaned out anything even vaguely medical.

The attack had obviously happened in here, and when the man had fallen, he’d ripped down the shower current. The rod looked like a fairly heavy steel tube, but it’s mountings were only plastic, and after a bit of work, Eliza had it free. As ready as she was ever going to be, the last two things she did before testing the door was tie her hair into a bun as best she could, and put on a ball cap she took out of the man’s things.

After another moment to work up the nerve, she slowly unlocked the hallway door and eased it open. Listening, but not hearing anything, she edged to door open enough to stick her head out. The power was down and the lighting terrible, but the hallway seemed clear. Stepping out of the room, her heart nearly stopped when the PA burst to life. ”JesusfucknuggetingChrist!”

”Hello? Anyone? If anyone can hear me, please, make your way to the security control room. It’s safe here! Don’t bother with the elevators, they’re all out. Look for fire escapes and the stairwells. Use the stairs or fire exits to make your way to the basement! The basement! If anyone’s there, come to the security control room...”

Well at least here’s SOMEONE still alive. She thought. Pipe in hand, she edged her way along the corridor, casting a weary eye on every room door as she passed them. Eventually she reached the emergency stairs and cautiously opened the door. Listening, she heard movement and nearly abandoned the stairs, but the sound was too regular…she hoped. ”Hello?” She called, keeping herself out of the stairwell and ready to shut the door in an instant.

"I've got some good news, kid. It took a little bit of finagling and some of my Brooklyn charm, but... you're going on tour!"

Elijah couldn't believe what he heard. After all the effort he put in to create the second album, it was starting to finally pay off. Not only was he able to break even with a little profit, but this announcement showed him that people were willing to listen to his music, that there was audience out there who understood. "Wait a minute. You serious?" he asked in disbelief.

Percy waddled out from behind the table, dressed to the nines in his standard suit. In hindsight, Percy knew the weather was too much for his outfit, but he'd rather die than look unprofessional. He held an unlit cigar in his hand, a look of smug satisfaction on his face. "After all this time, after me helping you through every sort of snafu imaginable, you don't believe I could land you a deal like this?"

"No! I-it's not that. It's just..." Elijah scratched the back of his head and looked to the floor. "I was starting to think this thing wouldn't pan out, you know? I barely broke even on the first album, and you know how expensive it is here. Going back to Florida was going to be a thing if this album didn't work."

Percy smiled and looked up at Elijah, tapping his forearm in a reassuring manner.

"As long as I'm still here, you're not going anywhere but up."


Elijah pulled himself together on the way down the stairs, finally pushing past the overwhelming scent of blood. He couldn't remember the last time he felt this way, but then again, he never was in a situation where killing someone was an option. The visions of the encounter flashed through his mind; how he swung as hard as possible and with near-reckless abandon, how the skull caved in as if it were a beanbag, how the body continued to move despite the trauma, and how many strikes it took to finish the job. Going over the memory made him shiver. In the back of his mind, he knew it probably wouldn't be the last time it happened. Beyond this, and until he found a way off the island, there would likely be more moments where blood and gore would become prevalent to his senses. It would be something he'd need to be used to.

Elijah's thoughts shifted to Percy in his final moments. The graying skin, the blood seeping from his mouth, the hunger in his bloodshot, milky white eyes; the way he tilted and slipped over the side, the almost-human scream that gurgled out of his mouth, the silence when he hit the ground. Elijah felt a pain in his chest; sadness or anxiety, he couldn't tell. His uncle, manager, friend - gone.

Then, he remembered the person on the third floor, the one awkwardly climbing their way down to the patio beneath them, and his focus returned. Only of two possibilities existed in that moment: either she slipped and fell to her death, or she found her way down and made it through. Granted, if more of those things were still around down here, she could have succumbed to further attacks. This only spurred Elijah's movements, his muscles finally kicking back into gear as he sped down the stairs, only to slow once again as he heard a door open from below. He could pick up the sound of the hinges squeaking as it swung wide, and he began to carefully descend as a result, clutching tightly to the lamp in his hand. Then, all of a sudden, he heard a woman's voice.

"Hello?"

Human. Alive.

Elijah stopped on the staircase, out of view as he weighed his options. Somewhere below him, someone was still kicking. On one hand, they could be wound-free and in need of help. On the other, they could be another Percy, a body in the making. His grip on the lamp tightened even further as he ruminated over what he would say, until the words finally came to him. With a tinge of concern and distrust in his voice, he called out to the voice below.

"Hey. Anything bite you?"

---

There was a harsh crackling that made the two girls jump and clutch their bars tightly. After a moment, Mallory realized it must be the PA systrem. It echoed throughout the corridors, and the gray people tipped their heads up to search for the source of the sound.

"Hello? Anyone? If anyone can hear me, please, make your way to the security control room. It’s safe here! Don’t bother with the elevators, they’re all out. Look for fire escapes and the stairwells. Use the stairs or fire exits to make your way to the basement! The basement! If anyone’s there, come to the security control room...”

Mallory immediately began to break down as horrible, all consuming dread set in. Tears rolled down her face as she buried her face in her hands, letting the bar fall to the floor. The basement? They were five stories up. They were going to end up like the woman in the pool, dead. Murdered by these insane, bloodlusted people. June glanced down at her white knuckles, squeezing the metal bar as hard as she could. Her hands were shaking and her heart felt like it was going to explode. But she had to focus. Mallory was a wreck.

"Mallory. He said basement, yes?"

Mallory continued crying.

"Hey, listen. Mallory- Mallory!" She raised her voice, and Mallory startled, glancing up at her friend with wide, moist eyes.

"I need you to focus, okay? We're going to go down to the basement. Get out of those high heels and into something more practical, okay?" She said, her voice steadier and more calm than she was on the inside. Mallory slowly nodded, and quickl put on a pair of her gym shoes. They didn't match her outfit at all, she thought. Oh, well.

"June...how...how are we going to get to the basment? We can't even get outside of this room." Mallory said, her voice cracking. June pushed forward.

"He said basement, right? Go the security control room. No elevators. Use the stairs or...what was it?" The words in english escaped her.

"Use the stairs or fire exits." Mallory helpfully translated.

"There is a fire exit stair way nearby. We can use that. It'll be almost a straight shot to the basement. We'll just...get past this guy and sneak downstairs." She said, as if it was easy as that.

"We'll have to hurt him, Mallory." June confirmed this fact grimly. They would have to beat him with their metal bars until he didn't get up.

"Oh, June!" Mallory cried out again, threatening to break down once more. Fear...she was afraid. Not only of committing an act of violence, but of having violence done upon them. The idea of that crazed, bloody man barging in here. Beating June, beating her...what would he do to them?

"He's bigger...what if...he wins?" Mallory asked, beginning to hyperventilate. June began to panic that her friend was going to panic.

"He's not going to win, Mallory. There is two of us and one of him, and we have weapons. Okay? I'm going to..." June hesitated, her heart beating hard in her chest.

"...I'm going to open the door. Back up, and you and I will beat him with the bars. Use it like a spear to keep him at bay, okay? We can do this, Mallory." June said, trying to steel herself. Mallory shook her head, beginning to protest. June silenced her, assured Mallory that she would be fine. They would both be fine. They just had to focus up. The shorter frenchwoman began making her way over to the door, on which the man was still thumping against, trying to get in.

Thump. Thump. Thump. Now. She opened the door right after a thump. He had no momentum, standing still. Gritting her teeth, eyes wide, June jammed the shower rod directly into his forehead. With a cringe-inducing thwack of bone on metal that rocked her arms, the man stumbled backwards, his forehead beginning to bleed. He snarled and began walking back towards June. June backpedaled, having cleared the chair out of the way to allow herself more room. She couldn't...hear anything. All there was was this bloody, insane man infront of her. He made his approach, arms extended. Crunch! Another thrust directly to the face. He took another step forward, and Mallory gave him a hearty wack across the side of the head. He glanced over at her, stalling. June slammed her bar into his forehead. He fell to the ground, groaning, and started to get back up. Mallory smacked him again, and June did so as well, and the pair hit him again, and again. Mallory, crying out, caved in his skull with the final hit. Blood oozed out from the wound. Mallory's eyes widdened, and then fluttered. "Unh..." She went limp, falling face down onto the bed and closing her eyes, consciousness leaving her.

June was elated that they were alive. That didn't prevent the disgust from overwhelming her. Dropping to one knee she vomited into the trashcan. She just killed someone. Her hands were shaking and everything was muffled. Wiping her mouth she glanced over at the fainted Mallory. "Mallory?" Climbing onto the bed she shook her friend by the shoulder. "Mallory, wake up. We have to move." After a moment, her friends eyelids fluttered open. She immediately began sobbing again, the image of her metal bar caving the man's skull in still burned into the back of her eyelids. "I didn't mean too..."
"We have to keep moving, Mallory. Right now. Get up. Move. Downstairs to the basement where we will be safe. Now!" Afraid and frustrated, June used force to move her friend until they were both on their feet. Wide-eyed, Mallory nodded.

"Follow me. Be quiet." June ordered. Placing Mallory's weapon back into her hand, June grabbed her shower rod with her left hand. Using her right hand, she knitted her fingers between Mallory's. Together, they stepped over the corpse and left the hotel room, stepping into the empty hallway. Flickering lights. A distant scream. The pair's breathing. No one was around. June found the stairs and the pair began creeping down. June glanced over the railing, and saw no one, the staircase winding down and down until it became obscured by darkness. Five stories. She looked up, and heard nothing. Glancing over at the wide-eyed Mallory, her face darkened by shadow, June nodded and started making her way down the stairs. Basement. Security control room. Safety.

"And you expected me to stay after that snoring of yours?" she smirked, egging him on, "It was a torturous endeavor and unfortunately, I can't win all battles." Charlotte walked over to her half-empty luggage to retrieve some more appropriate clothing, settling for an orange top and dark denim shorts as they were on top of the folded pile and easily accessible.

"But hey, do you know what the hell is going on outside?" Her tone of voice was a tad more serious now as she was growing concerned for Alex. Charlotte placed her phone on speaker mode and positioned it on the dresser so she could change. If something form of emergency had indeed occurred, she would want to be ready and on the move as quickly as possible.

Cole laughed, biting his lip a bit as he got slightly self conscious. Did he really snore that bad? She was probably just busting his balls. He played it off cool though, clearing his throat as he continued to eat his apple. ”Oh please, it can’t be that bad. I thought you won all your cases? And to think we talked about making you my lawyer… We. Need. Results.” he chuckled, taking a quick jab back at her.

His tone of voice dropped as he heard she got a bit more serious. He put his ear to the door, hearing the faint siren and a bit of banging and some other strange noises going on down the hall. ”To be quite honest dear I haven’t the slightest clue, but I’m assuming it’s some kind of alarm? Although if it was a fire alarm the sprinklers would be going off… My room is absolutely bloody and trashed though, something out of a horror movie. My best bet is we get down to the lobby. I’m assuming the sirens mean get the fuck out.”

Cole said this tentatively as he slowly walked out to his balcony where glass was shattered and there was a dried pool of blood, although still fairly fresh. Down below he could see people panicking and screaming, running around as wild-eyed people chased them. It was a total shit show, furniture everywhere, cars flipped over and crashed, dead bodies and blood everywhere. Was that… was somebody getting EATEN? Something tells me those drugs had a bit more in them than everybody was leading onto.

”Hey, um… I think it’s a lot worse than what I thought. Lock your door and don’t let anybody in until you hear my voice. And… don’t look outside.” the color was slowly draining from his face as he slipped his brass knuckles on his hands, opening his door as he peeked his head out into the hallway. ”What room number is yours?”

"I'm 1301, the door on the far end." Charlotte was starting to panic, unsure of how else to respond. Once she had finished getting dressed she picked up the phone and started to pace back and forth. She could tell by his voice that the confidence he was exhibiting the previous night was absent from the current conversation. Something had genuinely spooked him, and that was reason enough for her to feel the same way. But given that Charlotte was Charlotte, she ignored his request and rushed over to the window, and it was then that the subtle background noise that was there all along finally clicked.

"Jesus Christ! What is that?" The view below was one straight from a horror movie and nothing short of chaotic. The general public had simply gone mad, their maniacal actions only proving Cole was right. Charlotte quickly turned her back to the frenzy down below, having seen more than enough to satisfy her curiosity. "Cole, we need to get out of here!" She stated the obvious, although her adrenaline had kicked in a few moments ago making her go into survival mode. "Let me know when you're at the door and please be careful!"

Charlotte hung up the phone after receiving his response. Alex suddenly popped in her mind again, and she rushed to the bathroom as she dialed her friend. Come on, pick up... Once at the sink, the woman turned on the faucet and splashed come cold water over her face all the while having to listen to Alex's ringback song. It was somewhat of an anxiety-inducing experiencing on its own, and with a frustrated groan she hung up and redialed, turning off the faucet and drying off her face.

"Goddammit Alex!" she shouted as the voicemail greeting went off again, and by that point she was making her way over to the door. Her first order of business once Cole arrived was to find her friend, and then get the hell out of there.

The phone hung up and he looked at it, seeing his reception. No service. Fuck, the lines must be jammed up from all the calls going through. Or… even worse. Hopefully the lines wouldn’t be down forever, or it’d make this whole situation a lot worse. He shook his head and pocketed his phone, taking a deep breath and closing his eyes. Everything was going to be okay, it wasn’t that bad. He had to just go get Charlotte, go downstairs, and the police would handle everything. Although he had a feeling she didn’t take his advice and she was panicking right now.

He popped his head out of his door, looking right and left to see if any of those crackheads outside were on his floor. It seemed most of the commotion was down farther below, as a lot of people had made their way downstairs or out of the building. He could hear some noises coming from the stairs and in a few rooms, but nothing that would impede him. He slowly made his way down the hall to the end, moving briskly as he looked over his shoulder. It was a clear shot to Charlotte’s room, but something told him going down the stairs would make their situation much worse, as apparently a lot of debris and furniture was piled up in the stairwell. Either it was to keep the people up here in, or to keep something out.

Cole made it to 1301, making sure it was the right door. As he was about to knock he heard a loud bang on 1302, the door next to hers, and some disgruntled noises coming from behind the door. He didn’t know who or what was in that room, but he wasn’t quite as interested in finding out.

”Hey! It’s me, Cole. We need to hurry up and get the hell out of here. Although for some reason, the stairwell has a bunch of shit in the way and I hear a shit ton of people down there.

"Cole!" She immediately opened the door, instantly recognizing the voice as his own. "I'm so glad to see you! It's anarchy outside, they've all gone mad!" Charlotte was motioning with her arms as she spoke, something that naturally occurred when she was in a heightened emotional state. But seeing the familiar face did calm her down enough for her to get her bearings straight. "We need to go get my friend Alex two doors down, she doesn't pick up the phone."

As she spoke, Charlotte looked around the room before stepping out into the hall to join Cole. She pocketed her phone, figuring she didn't need it at the moment.

”Yes, I was made well aware when I looked outside for myself, hence my warning.” Cole muttered, his suspicions confirmed as he sighed and looked over at the door she mentioned. He heard the wild banging next to him, but the door she was talking about staying rather quiet.

As he watched Charlotte join him in the hall he put his ear to the door, trying to handle. It wouldn’t budge, and it seemed it was locked. ”Alex?” He yelled, banging his fist on the door. As he did so the door next to Charlotte’s room slammed, the door almost breaking way as the sounds from behind it keep getting louder and angrier.

”Look, she’s probably already down there. I suggest we leave, quickly, and catch up with her. If the door is locked and she’s not answering then she’s probably already left.”

"No, what if she's still in there? We can't leave just yet." Charlotte pushed past Cole to pound on the door herself. "Alex open up, it's Charlie!" She waited, though the only response she received was coming from the adjacent room, the violent thrashing from within making her slightly doubt her choice up to that point.

"Why is this-" Charlotte paused, suddenly hearing an announcement go off. She stared at Cole, and hoped that they were providing some answers.

After hearing the full announcement there seemed to be true panic in the man’s voice. Whatever was going on, it seemed clear that this was much more than a simple case. This was a life or death situation, and if they didn’t get down soon, they’d be left to deal with whatever the threat was by themselves.

However, they were on the top floor, and they needed to get down quickly. By the looks of it, everybody will probably take the advice of the man and flood the stairs and emergency exits, making things very difficult for them. If they wanted to survive, they’d have to be part of the first boat out of this hell hole.

”Here, I have an idea.” Cole said, walking up to the elevator shaft that was nearby. It was a pretty old elevator system, with a door that parted in the middle. He knew that if he pressed his foot against the bottom and pulled hard enough… ”The elevator’s are down, so that means we could take the elevator shaft straight to the basement.”

"Oh yeah, that's..." She was speechless after that, her fingers interlocking behind her neck as she took a few steps forward as well. She'd never been down an elevator shaft before. In fact, she'd never even dreamt of it. Was her upper body strength even good enough for such a stunt? What would happen to her if she couldn't hold on? She'd either be facing tremendous pain or a quick death, although she would much prefer the latter.

Charlotte looked behind her just in time to hear a scream echo off the stairwell. She supposed that route was out of the question, and as much as she hated to admit, she'd have to listen to Cole's crazy plan.

"The shaft it is, but I have to warn you, I'm not as athletic as you are."

More and louder noises were echoing from the stairs and the room next door, and it was only a matter of time before the hallway got a bit more crowded. Cole managed to pry open the doors, the dark and empty elevator shaft leading downwards as a few large cable hung near the middle. He turned on his phone light, setting up his phone in his jacket pocket so that it shown out in front of him.

”Don’t worry, I’ll go and you hold on to me. It’s too dangerous if we go at different speeds or times, so we’ll slide down together. You just have to hold on tight and not look down.” His breathing slowed a bit as he took his sparring gloves out of his bag, giving his hands and fingers a bit of protection as he reached for a cable.

This time, Charlotte did as told and didn't even bother to look at the wall in front of them. Instead, she focused on the back of his head and with trembling hands, reached out her arms to hold on to him while simultaneously wrapping her legs around his torso to hold herself up in a comfortable manner.

She rested her face on his neck and closed her eyes. Charlotte loved to go skydiving and do just about anything for the thrills, but they didn't have a safety now and her life was solely in his hands. One bad move and they'd both fall to their death.

For fuck's sake woman, stop thinking like that...

Once they started their descent, Charlotte said a mental prayer for the first time to any god willing to hear her out.

Cole breathed deeply, giving out an audible exhale as he gripped the cable. It was pretty thick, although it was small enough for him to grip all the way around with both his hands. He locked the insteps of his shoes around the cable as well, making sure he gets as good of a grip as possible.

”Don’t worry, this isn’t my first rodeo. Well, I’ve never done anything this extreme but… Similar things yes. He wasn’t sure if he was trying to reassure himself or her, but there was only one way to find out if this was all gonna work. He slowly loosened his grip on the cable as he felt the two of them slowly slide down the cable. It was gradual at first as he felt the friction pull against his gloves, which if it wasn’t for those his hands would get torn up. It was fast enough where they were getting down at a brisk pace and he wasn’t having too much struggle holding onto the cable, but not too fast to make them splat at the bottom.

After a few minutes Cole felt the elevator under his feet, landing with a thump as he put his feet firmly on the ground. His hands released from the cables and he flexed his fingers, looking at his gloves. They were pretty banged up from the friction of sliding down 20 stories, but they did their job as he slid them off of his hands.

”Alright, we made it. As much as I love giving piggy back rides, I’ll have to ask you to walk the rest of the way on your own two feet.

Charlotte gave Cole a big kiss on the cheek before hopping off his back. Relief washed over her and she grinned as a result, her mood changing momentarily.

"You, sir, are my hero."

But that happiness didn't last long. They still needed to get to the security room and get through the horde of crazies. Charlotte stepped off the latch she was standing on, the unevenness under her feet alerting her that she was standing on the only way into the elevator. She crouched down and opened the latch, looking inside. It was just as dark as she imagined, but luckily for them, there was no movement coming from within. "Looks good in here." She sat herself on the edge before slowly lowering herself inside, her arms holding her weight until eventually her feet hit the floor. She nearly lost her balance on the landing, but caught herself just in time.

"I'm okay, your turn now."

Cole blushed momentarily in the darkness of the shaft, biting his lip gently. ”Don’t mention it, but you can thank me once we get out of this hell hole.”

The MMA fighter easily lowered himself into the elevator, landing with a slight thud as he turned to the elevator door. It seemed empty, considering the doors were still shut, but at least it wasn’t damaged, or sparking, or on fire… They were certainly lucky. He wedged his fingers between the two doors, taking a few moments before having it slowly pull apart. He peaked his head out, looking around before his eyes turned to his right. The place where they needed to be was to their right down the hall. The only problem was, there seemed to be a small group of individuals huddled around the base of the stairwell. They were feeding on some poor people, screams of agony echoing the hallway as they were being eaten alive.

Cole felt his stomach turn as he quickly pulled his head back in, his breathing becoming very quick. He let go of the elevator doors, leaving them slightly ajar as he slowly got out his brass knuckles and slipped them over his hands.

”Well, good news and bad news. Good news, I found the security control room, it’s just down the hall to the right. Bad news? Because people were taking the stairs to get down here, we have some… company that’s standing between us and that door. And let’s just say they’re not so friendly.”

The news he delivered was expected, but none the less it left a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. Charlotte approached the opening and looked outside, the noises alone repulsing her to her core. Some poor soul was being devoured and Charlotte couldn't even begin to imagine what that could feel like. But the view mesmerized her in a way, finding herself unable to look away. They were easily outnumbered, and even though they avoided death once already, could they do it again? Charlotte pictured the two of them making their way past the horde and into the security room, although that was easier said than done.

"Well, we've come this far already, right?" she whispered as she turned to face Cole, barely making out his silhouette. "Are we going to rush past them and hope for the best? Because I think that's our only option."

”No, I don’t think so… there’s too many of them. If they noticed us and the door is locked, they’d get to us before we’d even have time to run back in the elevator. We need to find another way around… Or, maybe we could get them away from there.”

Cole turned off the light on his phone, pushing some buttons on his phone as he set an alarm. If he couldn’t get through them, maybe he could distract them long enough to slip past them. He stuck his phone out, turning to the left as he chucked the phone down as far as he could throw it, hearing it clatter all the way at the other end before he quickly pulled his arm in and pulled the elevator doors shut.

”Alright, I set an alarm on my phone for a minute from now… Once it goes off and they all pass us, we make a run for the security room and hopefully they let us in. If all goes well, that big cluster over there will be at the other end of the hall.”
Only a few moments after he finished speaking, his phone down the hallway, at full volume, started suddenly coming to life. His choice of music for his alarm was Africa by Toto, and it wasn’t quite fitting for the mood. However, just as he predicted, he could hear lots of yelling and disgruntled noises as several bodies sprinted and shuffled down the hall towards the music.

After a few moments Cole signaled with his hands towards the door, and the two of them pushed the doors apart and start making a break for the security room. Their plan seemed to work as a majority of the undead were way down the hall, the start of the song being a quieter build up to the chorus. Once that went off, it would no doubt draw zombies from around the floor. That was an issue to be dealt with later, as Cole pounded his fist on the security room door.

”Hey, let us in! We’re two survivors. Let us in quick before one of those things decides to come our way.” Cole said loud enough for anybody on the other end to hear, banging steadily on the door. As he did so a pair of cannibal crackheads looked their way from down the stairwell, attracted by the noise, and they slowly made their way towards Cole and Charlotte. Now it was a race to see if and when they would be let in, otherwise they would have to find another way out.

”What the hell?”

Carter Perkins spun around, crowbar in hand as he heard the commotion at the security room door. The door was made of hardened plexiglass, shatter resistance and blast resistant. So it wasn’t like these “walking dead” as they were could just pound it in like any other door. Still though, Carters’ nerves were far from settled. Understandably so after all.

“Who’s that?” Mike called from where he sat at the control station. Carter walked towards the sealed door, gripping the bloody crowbar in both hands over his shoulder, prepared to swing. As he drew close to the door, he could see it was a man and a woman, both young and from Carter could see, alive.
”Hey open the door!” he called over his shoulder ”We’ve got two live ones here! Open up!”

“Right!” Mike called back, tapping a button on the control panel with a slight beep. Carter stepped back as the door came sliding open, stepping aside as the pair entered the control room. He turned his gaze back outside, and it was then that he saw the two undead staggering down the hall, presumably having been chasing the two newcomers. ”Close it up!” he called frantically as one of the undead surged forward with a sudden burst of speed. “Shit!” Mike hissed as he pounded his palm down onto the button.

With a beep the door came sliding shut, though not before the lead zombie thrust its arm out, only for it to be smashed between the door and the frame. A loud whirring could be heard as the door tried to force itself shut, causing blood to spew from the zombies’ arm as it was crushed from the pressure. The door suddenly stopped whirring, then came sliding open, a safety mechanism installed to prevent mutialation. ”Son-of-a-bitch!” Carter yelled as he rushed forward and swung his crowbar.

The blunt metal instrument cracked across the zombies’ face, sending a spray of blood across the floor and Carters’ blue shirt. Carter viciously kicked the undead man and sent him reeling back through the doorway into his companion. Mike hit the button again and this time the door slid completely shut. Carter stepped back slowly, adrenaline surging through his body as he dropped his crowbar with a clatter.

“You folks alright?” Mike asked as he stood up from his chair. He was of average build, clean shaven, and looked to be in his late twenties roughly. He was dressed in the uniform of a security guard, and at his waist hung a baton and a pistol, holstered of course. Mike and Carter both suddenly jumped as a heavy thud came from the door. Three of the undead were hard pressed against the plexiglass, clawing, slapping, and punching at it. Angry snarls and weak moans came from their leering, rotted faces.

The hell? Did anything BITE me? The man’s question confused Eliza for a moment, until it clicked in her mind. Seeing the father stagger back to his feet after getting mauled, the naked man still moving after his throat was torn out. No fucking way…that’s just Hollywood BS… She thought for a moment before shaking her head to clear her thoughts; she could worry about shit like that later, now she just needed to get to safety.

”No, I’m good.” She called up, seeing a man’s face looking over the railing a floor above her. ”How ‘bout you?” Thank fuck he speaks English… He replied that he was fine as she heard him moving rapidly down the steps to her position. Moments later a blond haired guy about her age came fully into view, and her eye’s widened and her grip tightened on her piece of pipe as she saw his bandaged arm.

He looked confused at her reaction for a second before he saw his bandages, and went into a rapid explanation of what had happened to himself, going so far as to uncover the wounds to prove his point. Seeing the still oozing cuts, Eliza took his word; and then after helping reapply his bandages, they made some proper introductions. She looked up the stairwell briefly, considering heading up to see if there were other survivors; but who knew how many of the former guest and staff had been turned into those…things, and blundering into a whole floor of them would only end badly. If there was anyone else alive above her, she wished them luck.

Moving down towards the basement, she put her ear close to the ground floor fire door as she went passed, and even through the heavy insulation of the door, what she could hear sounded like a fucking nightmare. Moving on, the pair of them got to the bottom, though there was nothing to hear through the door, fortunately. Cautiously, she opened the heavy door. No seeing anything right away, she kept opening it until once more she could stick her head out and get a good look about.

The sound of grunting and banging drew her attention to a door labeled ‘Security Office’, which had a trio of…whatever they were…banging against it, there was a four on the ground not moving, it’s head looking fairly caved in. Carefully closing the door, she grimaced as she looked back to Elijah. ”There’s three of those things beating on the door of the Security Office.” She said a bit sourly. ”There’s another one on the ground too but, best I can tell someone bashing it’s head it. Hopefully that means the office is still secure. No idea if there are any more about though…” Looking back at the door, she wrung her hands nervously on the pipe. ”So…unless you’ve got any better ideas, I think we’re gonna have to just go through them. Sneak up and hit ‘em before they realize we’re there…”

---

As Eliza spoke to him, he kept his eyes focused on the three against the door. If these things were attempting to get through, it could only mean that there were still some people alive; judging by the body on the floor, that even some made it through and secured themselves on the other side. It was their best bet at finding survivors, and quite likely the only shot they had at safety, even if it was probably temporary. The only thing to do now was find a good method to taking out the ones in the way. He had a lamp body as a weapon and though it was heavy and effective, the base was starting to disconnect a little, proving that while it was an efficient tool, it was far less durable than what Eliza had.

His eyes roamed to the pipe in her hand, trailing upwards along her arm to her face, which wore an expression of concern. He could tell by her stance and the grip she held that she wasn't just some ordinary citizen. She had some sort of training to her, though Elijah couldn't quite tell what kind. His eyes then darted around the room in which they stood as he searched for a new object to use. Large crates and cases that held very little, a fire extinguisher hanging halfway off the wall, pieces of glass too small to do any real damage... his options were limited, that is until he got an idea.

Leaving the doorway, Elijah moved to the base of the stairwell and set the body on the ground, base first. Placing his foot on the base, he proceeded to bend the body of the lamp until it snapped off, becoming much lighter in his hand. Seeing it as ineffective, Elijah threw it aside, reasoning that it wouldn't work well against the ones in the next room. Next, he placed the base of the lamp, now essentially a thick brass plate, onto the knuckles of his hand, weaving the cord through his fingers and wrapping it around the plate tight enough to secure it in place. With a hefty breath, Elijah lifted himself up, grabbed the neck of the lamp and moved back to the doorway.

"I've got a plan, but it's risky," he whispered, guiding Eliza away from the door and closing it quietly. "You stand to the side, right here, and tap on the door with that pipe. That's going to draw them over to the door. When you think they're all there, you give me the signal, and I'll charge straight through the door. If luck's on our side, we hit them all in one shot and we take them out right then and there. You with me on this?"

He could see Eliza mull the idea over with mild incredulity, and then reluctantly nod. Yeah, I know, he thought, it's reckless, but I'm fine with putting my life on the line...

---

"How long have you been feeling like this?" she asked, the pen tapping against the pad of pale yellow paper.

"I'm not sure," he replied, staring past his clasped hands and into the faded burgundy carpet. He could tell maintenance hadn't been around for a few days, judging from the bits of food the others left behind. Sighing, he leaned back in the leather chair, laying his arms on the rests. The sunlight did little to illuminate the room. "Comes and goes, most days."

"Has it ever gotten bad?"

"You make it sound as if it's good to start with."

She shifted in her seat, pushing the horn-rimmed glasses back up the bridge of her nose. "My apologies. What I meant to ask is if it's ever gotten particularly... overwhelming."

Silence. Beyond the windows, the muffled chirps of the birds tending to their young helped fill the void.

"It's intrusive, sometimes. There's times where... where that's all there is. It's like one moment, you're watching some random TV show or doing silly shit with your friends and having fun, and then? Darkness. That thing that makes you feel like it's all..."

He heard the click of the pen.

---

As Eliza braced herself against the wall, Elijah moved back and got into position, waiting. Eliza, strands of golden hair stuck to her misted face, began tapping on the door with the pipe, stopping momentarily to listen for the sounds of movement, then repeating the pattern. As the movement got closer, so close that she could hear their growls on the other side, she turned gave Elijah a signal. Nodding, he broke into a full sprint, positioning his shoulder to be level with the door. As he neared its surface, Elijah lifted his body, pushing the lever of the door with his hip and blowing the door wide open, sending the things on the other side stumbling back and falling over each other on the ground.

"NOW!" he shouted as he towered over one's head, proceeding to strike it in the face as hard as he could with the brass plate.

---

@Vaeltaja@Athol

On the opposite side of the hall from Elizabeth and Elijah, June and Mallory creeped down their staircase. Mallory poked her white face out, gleaming with sweat, eyes widened but composed. One thing she learned about herself from all this was that she was good under extreme pressure. That was one of those things most people never learned about themselves- how they reacted in a life or death situation. June learned a useful but worrying answer- she was numb and angry. Fight, instead of flight or freeze. The strange emptyness she felt in seeing the suffering of her fellow man was something she never could have expected. Perhaps it would all set in later, and she would break down crying once she reached safety. Maybe. She kind of hoped so. It would be reassuring, in a way, to learn that she wasn't some kind of cold-blooded survivor. Either way, there were more pressing matters at hand. The all too human Mallory was a shuddering wreck with a pale, ghostly face and impossibly wide eyes that shined in the shadow like a pair of polished marbles.

June's eyes scanned the hallway. Three crazy people were banging on the door to the Security Office, and a fourth was dead on the ground. This was a good sign. That must have been what the man they encountered earlier looked like- trying to get in at the living people on the inside. Unfortunately, there was three of them. Mallory and June would surely die where they to attempt to take the three of them on. Most likely become one of them. At this point, there was no other explanation other than this was some kind of zombie virus. These crazy people did not emerge from nowhere, they were normal people transformed. Whether their disease was infectious or not had yet to be seen, but it probably was. The idea made her shudder, and for a moment she felt the hypothetical undead Mallory betray her and bite into June's neck. The thought passed. Mallory would not become one of those things. She wouldn't.

"There are three of them, Mallory," June whispered, placing her back against the wall. "They are trying to get inside the security office. That must mean there are people inside, but we can't get in. We just have to wait, or-"

"NOW!" Someone shouted, causing the spaced out Mallory to jump.

June furrowed her eyebrows and scrambled to turn around the corner. There was an altercation. The people had moved to another door, and were currently heavily displaced, most of them lying prone. Some mad man was taking on the three, by himself? Or was there someone behind him? Either way, this was their best shot. The other possibility was allowing whoever was there to fight the zombies by themselves and hope they win, but if they lost, there would be no other shot to get in. Right now, helping was the only viable option.

"Stay behind me, Mallory!" June shouted, her french echoing throughout the halls. Mallory hesitated and then followed behind, her knuckles white around her bar and her gait lanky and ineffective. The braver frenchwoman charged down the hall to join Elijah in his fight against the zombies. Coming to stop, one of the zombies was a little farther back than the two engaged in the fight. With a heary thwack, her shower wod weapon bounced off the skull of the crazy woman. Grunting, the monster growled and whipped her fist around at June, who had already backed up. Smack! The woman growled as she reeled from the impact, her face becoming bloody. June's eyes were wide and her teeth were bared. Standing fast, used her shower rod as a spear to keep the woman at bay, sticking the thing underneath her throat and thrusting her back. Mallory joined June, but stayed a few feet back, watching, paralyzed from fear.

"Damn, they're closing in!"

Charlotte put her back to the door, the same door Cole was attempting to get through as he yelled loud enough for those on the other side to hear him and allow them inside. The seconds felt like minutes as two of the undead continued making their way towards them. The look in their eyes was an unsettling one, something that Charlotte might possibly never be able to scrub from her mind. She gripped Cole's arm out of fear, the idea that she only had a few moments left to live floating around her head. Her breathing grew shallow and she started to shake, but it was then that the door opened, making her nearly lose her balance.

She practically ran inside, rushing past Cole to the wall farthest on the left. There were two men already inside, one of them being a security guard. Charlotte thought she was safe for a second, but the man near the door caught on rather quickly as to what was going on just outside, and she simply watched as he fought of the couple that had been on their tail and were now trying to get inside the security room. After a few moments spent struggling, he kicked them away from the door before it closed shut, finally securing their safety.

The security guard then spoke, Charlotte noticing right away that he had a pistol on his person. If they were going anywhere any time soon, she would want him in the group. Before she could respond, a loud thud nearly made her heart skip a beat. Charlotte immediately turned to the door but it still remained shut. She let out a sigh, shaking her head before speaking.

"We're alright, thanks for asking. And thank you for letting us in."

In the midst of the chaos, Charlotte hadn't paid much attention to the monitors behind the man. Instead of introducing herself, she walked over to the screens and frantically scanned each one, searching for her friend. Although not all cameras were operable, Charlotte paid close attention to the halls, the lobby, and the areas outside surrounding the hotel.

"Excuse me, but have you seen my friend? She's about--"

Charlotte stopped, her eyes squinting as she tried to make out the female figure lying face down on the lobby near the main entrance. The woman had on a floor-length floral dress, the same style that Alex was wearing the previous night. She was also a blonde...

"Hey, come here, can you zoom in on this?" She turned to the security guard, desperately grabbing his wrist to pull him to his work station and with the other hand pointing at the female lying in a pool of blood.

@Delphio

“Hold on.” Mike said, firmly pulling loose from Charlottes grasp.

”Yeah, just what-“ Carter started before Mike suddenly silenced him with a raised finger and a sharp Shhhh!. Carter started to protest, crowbar raised in one hand, then he heard the sounds from outside in the hallway. Someone shouted loudly, as well as a great crashing sound and struggling. Multiple shouts actually could be heard as well as the moans and growls of the undead outside. Not those at the door, but others.

“Damn,” Mike barked ,”there’s more people out there! We have to save them!”

”Hey don’t open that fucking door! Who knows how many of those things are out there! This is our only safe haven!” Carter waved his bloody crowbar frantically. This fool wasn’t honestly about to open the door for those things to come pouring in on them was he? In truth, Carter didn’t like him opening the door for these newcomers either, but it had all happened too fast for him to protest.

“Move.” Mike said loudly, ignoring the indignant lawyer. He pushed past the blonde woman who had addressed him and stepped over to the control panel. ”Don’t!” Carter yelled angrily. “Move!” Mike yelled, spinning around, drawing his pistol as the plexiglass door came sliding open, the angry snarls of the undead monsters plaguing their ears. Carter leapt aside and there was a sharp bang! as Mike fired his pistol. The lead zombie fell back into the other two limply, it’s body thudding to the floor. Mike fired again, the bullet striking the second undead in the chest, unfazing it as it snarled, it’s bloody teeth pressed against dead gray lips. Mike fired a third time, this time the second zombie collapsed noiselessly beside the first.

Mike ran forward as the third undead, an elderly man in a black suit tried to step over its fallen companions. Mike surged through the door, delivering a swift kick into the mans’ torso and sent him reeling down onto the floor. The undead raised its head from the floor and released an angry growl. Mike leaned forward and fired a fourth time, killing the undead executioner style with a single shot.

“Hey over here!” Mike yelled down the hall, turning in the direction of the sounds they had heard. Even in the dark he could make out the shapes of several people, caught in a death struggle with several more of the undead. He could see at least four people, a man and three women it seemed. “Come on hurry!” he yelled, his thick Australian accent echoing through the hall. He raised his gun and fired a fifth shot, the bullet striking the knee of one of the undead, bringing it down to a collapsed crouch position. Mike cringed as he heard angry shouts and savage screams in the distance. Firing his gun had apparently stirred up a proverbial hornets nest.

“Let’s go now!”

Inside the security room, Carter shuffled his feet nervously as he listened to the gunshots and shouting. More of those things would be coming, the shouting and gunshots would draw them in droves. That door needed to be shut now. ”Fuck it! I’m closing the door! We aren’t safe!” he dropped his crowbar and made a dash for the control panel near the monitors.

@Vaeltaja@Athol@Delphio

---

June noticed the security guard. At first she startled as gunshots rang out. But past the zombies in front of her was the security room.

"Mallory!" She called out, pointing to the open security door. The brunette hardly reacted and began walking towards the snarling monsters, the exact same thing she did not want to do. She cringed as June batted the woman to the ground, disengaging to grab her friend by the wrist. She went around the side of the hallway, managing to slip past the distracted zombies before they could make a grab. Almost. June, full of adrenaline and self presevation instinct, satisfied that her friend had gotten past the scuffle, lunged for the door. At the last moment she stopped and turned around. Mallory had slown down considerably, staring in awe at the undead, merely walking towards safety. What was wrong with her?

Mallory was not thinking straight. This was impossible. These people, they were so clearly dead, and yet they walked. Oh, God, you have abandoned us.

June had herself in the doorframe, to prevent the door from closing. She looked inside. She would be safe, if she were to leave everyone, but she needed Mallory to get in the door first. She looked over at the security guard who had stepped into danger, pistol in hand. Then she glanced over at an older gentlemen inside the safe room. He was making for the controls...to close the door? She could practically read it on his face.

"S'il vous plaît ne pas!" She sputtered in her native tongue in a moment of panic! Reaching a hand out to him, begging him to not close the door. Mallory was walking down the side of the hallway, clutching her rod to her chest, looking like a WW1 soldier who was stunned from an artillery barrage.