Cahapter 2 of ZUMBEES!
The first things that I saw as I stepped into the building were sandbags stacked into a semi-circle, which opened up towards the entrance and me. The floor was a dirty perversion of what it once was. The once red velvet carpeting was black, worn, and rough. The wallpapering was no better. It was blackened and torn in various places. The old clerk’s desk had been built onto to make a weapons locker.
The man who let me inside brushed against my shoulder as he stepped in and made his way over the sandbags where he threw his left leg up and over to step onto the other side. He turned and looked at me standing there, along with everyone else. There was a variety of people standing about in the foyer. Most were ragged men with the vile and disgusted face that a war would give a young soldier. The majority only wore common clothes, but a few had police officers’ Kevlar and SWAT styled helmets. One person who caught my attention above all was a young boy (maybe around the age of twelve or thirteen) standing by himself, holding a BB gun. A woman was grabbing his shoulder, trying to bring him upstairs. The boy solemnly refused at first, then went into a frenzy about how he was an adult and wanted to help defend the Santa Maria.
Upon my attempt to walk forward, I heard, “Stop. Yer probably infected. Damned Gustav ups and lets jest ‘bout anyone in. Jes not safe.” I just stood there. “Gustav, get down ‘ere. That new feller’s a’waitin’.” A loud rushing came from the stairs to my left.
“Hello, comrade! Welcome, welcome to the Santa Maria hotel, our enclave. Our home,” the man whom was responsible for the noise coming from the stairs said in a boisterous voice. “So tell me, what’s your story?”
“Well, I was forced home from college when the mandatory lockdown was placed.” I explained to him the rest of the ordeal, about father, about mother and getting here. He looked at me with knowing eyes the entire time.
“You’ve been through a lot. You need sleep. Here, come with me upstairs to the ‘lab.’ We just need to test you to see if you are infected, then we can get you some food and sleep. So anyways, what’s your name?” I told him my name and we were silent for only a moment. “Don’t mind that guy downstairs,” I assumed that he was referring to the one whom let me inside. “He’s a bit of an ass. Can’t really blame him though. Watched his family die at the hands of the zombies.” At the time I didn’t know if it was from the lack of sleep or if it simply was the way he is, but he talked so fast. He was so full of energy. An optimist (something very rare).
We went up the stairs to the fifth floor and entered a room with a red cross painted on it. Gustav ushered me into a seat covered in a red rubber, much like the covering of stools in doctor’s offices. Two electrodes were strapped to my forehead and a syringe slid into my right wrist, sucked out all the blood that it could, and left. “Sit still,” Gustav said as he flipped a switch. The syringe was inserted into a squat, cylindrical shaped metal container. The muscles in my forehead began twitch and the lights on the cylinder flashed green. Gustav flipped the switch again, returning it to its original position.
“So what’s the verdict?” I asked in that same hoarse voice.
“Stay still! You cannot leave this room. Alive, that is.” Damn it. My heart started racing. The bat was leaning against my chair. My eyes shot to the door and then to the window located on the opposite wall. Could I escape? Gustav must have noticed my distress and then said “Ha, I am only kidding comrade. You are fine.” I didn’t know if I should laugh or kill him.
“Where’s the food at?” I asked him coldly.
“Oh don’t be mad. Only a joke, only a joke, but I can you are hungry. Come. Down a floor. Be warned though, we are running low on supplies so what’s left is being rationed.” We made our way down to the fourth floor and hung a left to the room that had apparently been deemed the mess hall. It was a cold grey room, probably once being a maintenance room. Small tables most likely taken from hotel rooms were scattered throughout the room for eating on.
Gustav stepped next to a door and pulled out a key and inserted it into an oversized padlock which hung from the door. As the key was turned, the padlock could be heard snapping open. After unlocking the door, Gustav stepped into the small pantry type of room that the door led in to. A brief moment passed until he returned holding the familiar brown package which had “MRE” stamped onto it in a red stenciled font. “I am sorry it’s all we have. No more ‘real’ food. Normally I only give bits and pieces, but you look famished.”
I took the MRE from him and set to work opening it up while making my way to a table in a corner. Gustav stepped out of the room after relocking the pantry door. A breakfast omelet with crackers, instant coffee, water, and chocolate. It was going to be nasty, but I was so damn hungry that I didn’t care. I ate the omelet cold and washed it down with a cold bottle of instant coffee. It was the best thing that I had eaten in three days, because, well, it was all that I had eaten in three days.
After finishing, I put the crackers in my pocket and sucked on the chocolate and allowed it to melt in my mouth. Picking up my bag and gun from their laying place beside me on the table, I walked out of the room and Gustav met me. Apparently he had been just outside of the door for the entire time that I was eating. “Follow me and I will give you a room,” he said. He led me back to the stairs and we started up them. Upon reaching the eighth floor, Gustav handed me a key and said “Room 613.” He turned and walked back downstairs. I went to my new room, placed my things on the floor and laid down.
The bed was soft and was kind of yellowish, dull color that would expect in a place where the sheets and comforter had not been washed in who knows how long. The room was dark so I couldn’t see much of the room. I glanced at the clock on the wall in the dark and it read “9:17 PM.” My eyes closed and I greeted the darkness.
The man who let me inside brushed against my shoulder as he stepped in and made his way over the sandbags where he threw his left leg up and over to step onto the other side. He turned and looked at me standing there, along with everyone else. There was a variety of people standing about in the foyer. Most were ragged men with the vile and disgusted face that a war would give a young soldier. The majority only wore common clothes, but a few had police officers’ Kevlar and SWAT styled helmets. One person who caught my attention above all was a young boy (maybe around the age of twelve or thirteen) standing by himself, holding a BB gun. A woman was grabbing his shoulder, trying to bring him upstairs. The boy solemnly refused at first, then went into a frenzy about how he was an adult and wanted to help defend the Santa Maria.
Upon my attempt to walk forward, I heard, “Stop. Yer probably infected. Damned Gustav ups and lets jest ‘bout anyone in. Jes not safe.” I just stood there. “Gustav, get down ‘ere. That new feller’s a’waitin’.” A loud rushing came from the stairs to my left.
“Hello, comrade! Welcome, welcome to the Santa Maria hotel, our enclave. Our home,” the man whom was responsible for the noise coming from the stairs said in a boisterous voice. “So tell me, what’s your story?”
“Well, I was forced home from college when the mandatory lockdown was placed.” I explained to him the rest of the ordeal, about father, about mother and getting here. He looked at me with knowing eyes the entire time.
“You’ve been through a lot. You need sleep. Here, come with me upstairs to the ‘lab.’ We just need to test you to see if you are infected, then we can get you some food and sleep. So anyways, what’s your name?” I told him my name and we were silent for only a moment. “Don’t mind that guy downstairs,” I assumed that he was referring to the one whom let me inside. “He’s a bit of an ass. Can’t really blame him though. Watched his family die at the hands of the zombies.” At the time I didn’t know if it was from the lack of sleep or if it simply was the way he is, but he talked so fast. He was so full of energy. An optimist (something very rare).
We went up the stairs to the fifth floor and entered a room with a red cross painted on it. Gustav ushered me into a seat covered in a red rubber, much like the covering of stools in doctor’s offices. Two electrodes were strapped to my forehead and a syringe slid into my right wrist, sucked out all the blood that it could, and left. “Sit still,” Gustav said as he flipped a switch. The syringe was inserted into a squat, cylindrical shaped metal container. The muscles in my forehead began twitch and the lights on the cylinder flashed green. Gustav flipped the switch again, returning it to its original position.
“So what’s the verdict?” I asked in that same hoarse voice.
“Stay still! You cannot leave this room. Alive, that is.” Damn it. My heart started racing. The bat was leaning against my chair. My eyes shot to the door and then to the window located on the opposite wall. Could I escape? Gustav must have noticed my distress and then said “Ha, I am only kidding comrade. You are fine.” I didn’t know if I should laugh or kill him.
“Where’s the food at?” I asked him coldly.
“Oh don’t be mad. Only a joke, only a joke, but I can you are hungry. Come. Down a floor. Be warned though, we are running low on supplies so what’s left is being rationed.” We made our way down to the fourth floor and hung a left to the room that had apparently been deemed the mess hall. It was a cold grey room, probably once being a maintenance room. Small tables most likely taken from hotel rooms were scattered throughout the room for eating on.
Gustav stepped next to a door and pulled out a key and inserted it into an oversized padlock which hung from the door. As the key was turned, the padlock could be heard snapping open. After unlocking the door, Gustav stepped into the small pantry type of room that the door led in to. A brief moment passed until he returned holding the familiar brown package which had “MRE” stamped onto it in a red stenciled font. “I am sorry it’s all we have. No more ‘real’ food. Normally I only give bits and pieces, but you look famished.”
I took the MRE from him and set to work opening it up while making my way to a table in a corner. Gustav stepped out of the room after relocking the pantry door. A breakfast omelet with crackers, instant coffee, water, and chocolate. It was going to be nasty, but I was so damn hungry that I didn’t care. I ate the omelet cold and washed it down with a cold bottle of instant coffee. It was the best thing that I had eaten in three days, because, well, it was all that I had eaten in three days.
After finishing, I put the crackers in my pocket and sucked on the chocolate and allowed it to melt in my mouth. Picking up my bag and gun from their laying place beside me on the table, I walked out of the room and Gustav met me. Apparently he had been just outside of the door for the entire time that I was eating. “Follow me and I will give you a room,” he said. He led me back to the stairs and we started up them. Upon reaching the eighth floor, Gustav handed me a key and said “Room 613.” He turned and walked back downstairs. I went to my new room, placed my things on the floor and laid down.
The bed was soft and was kind of yellowish, dull color that would expect in a place where the sheets and comforter had not been washed in who knows how long. The room was dark so I couldn’t see much of the room. I glanced at the clock on the wall in the dark and it read “9:17 PM.” My eyes closed and I greeted the darkness.