This Would Be Paradise (Book 2) (24 page)

“Hold this.” Darren passed me the axe and ripped into his backpack.

He produced some white zip ties and used them to bind the two doors handles together.

“You’re really prepared,” I said, impressed.

Darren stood and took the axe back. The infected had reached the steps, some tripping over the first stair while the others navigated their way to the double doors. The rest spanned out, banging against the doors and running their hands down the glass walls.

I could imagine them yelling, “Let us in!” The scene reminded me of the time we were bombarded at Walmart.

Darren grabbed my shoulder to get me moving. “We need to get out of their sightline so they’ll calm down.”

“You think they’re attracted to movement?”

“Movement and sound. Not like I really want to test that theory though.”

A few infected were plunked all around the large cafeteria, either in the chairs or wandering in between tables. The ones closest to the doors tried to shuffle over to us, but the tables and chairs were making it difficult for them to move around. One knocked a tray off the table and it smashed to the ground, capturing its attention, as well as the attention of nearby infected. It would be easy to stay clear of few we could see. The hard part would be backtracking to the truck, but I’d worry about that after we got our supplies.

“Maybe we’ll find something good inside this place,” Darren said. “I’ll start at the right end. You take the left.” Darren motioned to the fast food stalls lining the back of the cafeteria. Walls stuck out, separating each stall and giving the illusion of privacy between booths.

We broke apart and started our search and seize mission. An infected in a school hoodie sat in one of the plastic chairs and stirred, reaching toward me as I passed by. Out of instinct, I slapped the boney hand away from me. I looked down in horror at my hand and quickly wiped my palm on my pants.

The infected decided to get up instead of merely grabbing at me. The hoodie it wore hung on its emaciated form like a really ugly dress that was three sizes too big. I took a few steps back and shot it in the head, seeing as Darren had pilfered my axe. It jolted backward, landing back in the chair, unmoving.

The few other infected stationed all over the cafeteria were still trying to navigate their way through the maze of chairs and tables, diminishing their threat level. There was no sense in possibly wasting ammo by aiming so far back; I’d deal with them when I had to.

I leaned over the counter of the sandwich booth, checking to see that nothing was hiding on the other side. Looping a leg around, I jumped over and found a full display of chips and a cooler full of bottled soda and water. I looked around, hoping to find bags to load the food in, but all I found were extremely unhandy sub-sized bags.

I took off my backpack and opened it to fish out the empty plastic grocery bags we’d brought. They were light, took up little room, and would work well for carrying everything. I got to work filling the bags with what I thought we could use. Two full grocery bags later, I placed them on the counter.

All the bread and meats had gone bad and the trays of condiments were covered in a greenish film of fuzz. A door led to a small back room, but the smell alone made me stay away. I figured the taco stand would have tortilla chips that were still edible, so I hopped over the counter to check out the neighboring booth.

Turned out the taco stand had a bunch of supersized bags of corn chips under the counter that were still sealed. A pretty good find, I’d say. The bags rattled as I piled them on the counter, drawing in the nearest infected. I hadn’t heard anything from Darren since we’d split up, so I leaned over the counter to see if I could spot him farther down the row of stalls, but giant white pillars obscured my view of the other fast food stands.

My ears picked up a scraping sound along the floor behind me. An infected wearing the taco stand uniform emerged from the backroom, a low growl rumbling in its chest. I drew my gun and put two bullets in it, blowing off the dorky pinstriped hat in the process, just for kicks.

I jumped over the counter, intent on finding Darren. Splitting up always led to trouble; we should have stuck together, even if it meant doubling the search time. I shot at the nearest infected that had freed itself of the sea of tables, the bullet hitting it in the torso. It stumbled back and landed funny on the chair behind it, knocking it over with a crash.
Of course.

The other infected went into a frenzy, zigzagging toward the noise. I loomed over the infected responsible for the racket and shot it in the head.

I rounded one of the solid white columns and ran into a group of infected that were lying in wait behind one of the walls separating the booths. In a panic, I threw the full grocery bags at the infected and lit up the group with the few bullets left in the magazine. My hand was shaking from the surprise, and my aim suffered for it. I only killed two before the Beretta clicked empty and the slide popped back just to rub it in. Time for Plan B: Run.

I sprinted past the group, jumping over the two fallen bodies, and the rest immediately chased after me. Where the hell was Darren? I tried to maneuver my backpack to reach for the spare magazine stashed in the outside pocket, but I slipped on something wet and crashed onto the hard linoleum.

The gun slid from my grasp and slid underneath a nearby set of tables. I struggled to untangle myself from my backpack and get to my gun, but I kept slipping on whatever had caused me to fall. I looked down at the red staining my hands and clothes; I’d fallen in blood. A pool of congealed blood surrounded me.

My gag reflex kicked in as I continued to slip around in the sticky substance as if I were wading through an oil spill.
Please don’t be Darren’s blood.

As the infected drew closer, I gave up trying to get my backpack off and attempted to crawl away, my feet unable to gain any traction. My hands slipped out from under me. As I scrambled to catch myself, my chin smashed into the floor.
Shit!

Even though I was seeing stars, I was well aware of the infected behind me. On my hands and knees, I scuttled toward where my Beretta had landed, ignoring the pain shooting through my head. I dove under a mass of tables that had been pushed together, but my backpack strap snagged underneath a table leg in the middle, yanking me backward. I bucked to loosen myself as I watched the many legs of the infected close in, my heart rate going up with every step they took.

As the group of infected drew nearer, dread settled in my stomach. I bucked hard enough that the table tipped over, the toppled surface blocking my escape route as it landed.

“Fuck!”

At least I’d freed my backpack. My head whipped around, my panicked gaze landing on my Beretta. I had to stretch out, my fingers pawing at the handle.
Success!

I hauled the gun to me then ripped off my backpack and unzipped the outside pocket where I had the extra magazine stashed. I fiddled with the Beretta to eject the empty magazine, the simple task rendered difficult by the sticky coating of blood on my fingers. As soon as the empty magazine clattered to the floor, I jammed the full one in as the first infected dropped to the ground in front of me.

It reached for me as I racked the slide of the Beretta. I gave it the honor of receiving the first bullet in my magazine. Brain matter flew out of both the entry and the exit wounds and the thing slumped down with a thud.

“Ugh, gross,” I muttered and wiped away the pieces of brain splattered all over me.

A second infected tripped over the legs of the first one. I aimed at its floor-level, snapping face and shot it at point-blank range. While I was occupied with the first two, a third infected had climbed underneath the side of the first table I crawled under. The infected looked in pretty good condition, as far as decay went. It wasn’t missing any limbs or chunks of flesh.

It grabbed at my ankle to pull itself closer to me. The trail of blood I’d brought with me made it easier for the infected to shimmy toward me on its belly. I couldn’t help myself; I screamed bloody murder as I used the butt of my gun to bash its head in. The infected snarled and snapped away despite the brain damage I was inflicting. I could have shot it, but I wanted to take out my frustrations on its skull instead.

As I wound my arm back to give it one last hit, the body was pulled backward, its fingernails scraping across the linoleum. I watched as a heavy boot came down again and again until the head no longer existed, instead, just a pile of pulp. I sat there for a second to get my bearings. Then I gathered my empty magazine and my backpack.

The figure kneeled down and peeked under the first table—Darren. He reached his hand under the table for me to take and helped me to my feet.

“Holy shit.” He paled at the sight of me covered in blood. “You bit?”

He checked me over rather intrusively without waiting for my answer.

“What? You’re not even going to buy me dinner first?”

Darren stopped patting down my sides and had the good graces to look embarrassed.

“I take it you’re fine if you can crack a joke.” He scowled at me. “Why are you covered in blood?”

“I slipped and fell in some.” My face scrunched up as I looked down at myself. I was literally covered in the stuff. What started as a giggle burst into full-fledged laughter.

“Sometimes I wonder about you,” Darren said as he rolled his eyes at me.

I laughed even harder at his words. I felt the exact same way about him.

Once my laughter subsided, I muttered, “It’s always me.”

“Seriously though, are you okay?”

“Yeah, no bites or scratches, but I think my old elbow injury is acting up,” I said, cradling my left arm. My elbow was throbbing again thanks to my fall.

“Let me see,” Darren said and checked my elbow over. “I don’t think anything is broken. The skin isn’t discolored, but I’d have the surgeon take a look at it when we get back.”

I bobbed my head to placate him; I’d never actually let anyone in Hargrove examine me. It was too risky. I didn’t want my supposed immunity brought to light, especially with Wyatt’s shady mercenary connection.

We stood staring at each other, Darren holding my arm. He moved in closer, his free hand aiming for my face. For a brief, horrific moment, I thought he was going to pull me in for a kiss. Instead, he pulled his hand away and dropped something on the ground. It landed with a resounding splat.

“You have brains in your hair,” Darren said.

I stared down at the grey matter on the bloody floor, glad I wouldn’t have to kick his ass for cheating on Zoe.

“That’s so gross.” I cringed.

“You look like a mess.”

“I look like
Carrie
.”

“Except that’s not pig’s blood.”

I shot him a sharp look. “Thanks, but I’m trying not to think about that.”

I went back to the stalls I’d already cleared and grabbed a bunch of napkins to wipe away as much of the blood as possible. While I was doing that, Darren took out a few more infected. When the paper stuck to my skin, I knew I wouldn’t get any cleaner without water. Using a water bottle, I wet a handful of napkins and wiped down my face and any exposed skin I could reach. By now the blood had seeped into my clothes, adhering them to my torso and legs. So gross.

“I give up,” I growled and threw down the soiled napkins.

Darren walked up to the counter, setting down his handful of grocery bags, and grabbed a couple of napkins to clean off my bloody axe. “Did you find anything?”

“I kind of tossed the supplies I found at the infected,” I said sheepishly. “They surprised me when I rounded that column.”

“Let’s go grab them and then we’ll leave. I’m pretty sure we passed by a dorm on our way through the courtyard. We can get you some clean clothes and see if any of their communal showers still have water access.”

“Sounds good to me, but how do we get through the infected clogging the entrance?”

“The backroom of the stall on the end has an emergency exit.”

“That’s great, but they’ll still be surrounding the truck,” I said.

“Not if we let them in here. I’ll smash one of the glass doors and get them to file in.”

I didn’t like it, but what choice did we have? I led him over to where I’d tossed my supplies like a fool. We rounded up the bags and the items that had fallen out. I tried to shift the plastic bags around in my hand, but my fingers were still starting to stick together. Where were wet wipes when you needed them? Darren showed me where the emergency exit was and set his bags down by the door.

“Stay here,” Darren said, “and have this door ready to open as soon as I get back. I’ll be running fast.”

He walked back to the front of the stall with the axe, leaving me alone. I swallowed as I pictured all the things that could go wrong. What if he didn’t get out of the way in time? He had the keys!

“Shit, shit, shit!” I hissed to myself.

The sound of glass breaking interrupted my hissy fit. I held my breath, my muscles tensing.
Please, for the love of God, come back Darren
.

After a few moments of standing eerily still, I almost screamed when Darren burst into the back room.

“Go!”

I shoved open the door as he scooped up his supplies. We ran back around to the front, Darren holding out an arm to stop me as he peered around the corner. His arm fell back to his side and he started running again, me right on his heels. A large portion of the infected had poured in through the broken door, leaving the truck exposed. We threw the plastic bags into the bed while still running. I used the passenger door to whack two infected and dove into the truck.

Darren didn’t even give me time to close the door before he hit the gas, the truck flying backward. I reached outside the moving vehicle to grab the swinging door and almost fell out when Darren abruptly turned us around to face the quad. The door slammed shut from the momentum, an inch away from smashing into my surprised face. Had my head been out any farther, the door would have broken my nose. I glared at Darren, not that it registered with him. He ripped across the quad, back the way we’d come, and stopped on the other side of the campus. I braced myself against the dash when Darren slammed on the brakes, the tires squealing.

“I’m pretty sure these are the dorms,” he said.

The building looked like an old three-floor apartment complex shaped a little like the letter
E
, if a kindergartener had drawn it. The building was brown and outdated but well kept.

Most of the infected on the campus were currently in or around the cafeteria we’d vacated. It would take a while for them to shuffle their way back over here.

“Let’s go,” I said.

I wanted nothing more than a chance to scour myself clean from the blood crusted on my skin and find some clean clothes.

Darren inched the truck up to the nearest door and got out, taking out a few stragglers. We ran up the steps to the door, but it was locked. We needed some sort of key card to enter. Darren poked and prodded at the silver card reader beside the door, then he lifted the axe and brought it down. The squealing of metal on metal made me grit my teeth; it sounded like utensils scraping against a glass plate. The silver box took a few more chops before it fell to the ground.

“Will that even make a difference? There’s no electricity,” I said, my eyes darting between the door and the infected looming in the distance.

“These things are usually battery powered, like at hotel rooms,” Darren said as he gripped the door handle.

It opened. He shot me a “would you look at that”
look. We rushed inside, Darren using more of his zip ties to secure the door we had just broken into. Once that was done, we went through another set of doors and entered into the main corridor, our weapons at the ready. The main floor looked huge. To our left was another set of doors, so we continued right passing what looked like a student lounge area on either side of us. Fallen bodies lay face down among the couches and tables, but none were moving. My eyes watered from the sheer force of the odor of rot. They must have been here decomposing for a long time.

We increased our speed, trying not to gag. A sign pointed us to the stairs. Darren said it was best to start at the top of the building and work our way down. Following it, we rounded a corner to our right. Darren pointed to a wide staircase.

“You think these are the ones we need?” I asked. There seemed to be a few dorm rooms on the main floor that we could look through if we could bare the stench.

“They go up, don’t they?”

Jackass.

We climbed to the highest floor, the bottom of my shoes sticking to every step. This had to be one of the grossest moments of my life. We pushed open the door to the third floor, which was the top floor, but a pile of furniture blocked the entire doorway.

“Looks like they barricaded it,” Darren said.

I tightened my bloodstained fingers around the handle of my Beretta. Maybe they were trying to keep a barrage of infected out. We closed the barricaded door and went down to the second floor landing.

The next floor wasn’t blocked and didn’t smell like a morgue after a long power outage. There were smears of blood on some of the walls, but there weren’t any bodies. The blood trail led to an open room at the end of the long corridor. The frame was a mess of bloody handprints.

“I vote we skip that room.”

We rummaged through the closest rooms we could open without a key. The first dorm I checked had belonged to someone with major school pride. Tulane banners hung all over the walls with a giant poster of Riptide the Pelican over the bed. Must be the school mascot. I scooped up the noise makers and air horns on the dresser. Never know when they could come in handy. After tearing apart three more rooms, I found one that looked like it had belonged to a girl. First, I checked the room for anything that might jump out at me from behind a door or under the bed. Then I proceeded to yank open the dresser drawers.

I shuffled through the clothing and produced a couple of band t-shirts that would work, including a V-neck AC/DC shirt that caught my eye. Skirts and sweats filled the last drawer. I pulled out a pair of black sweats and held them over my hips. They should fit.

“Can’t decide on an outfit?”

I jumped a foot in the air, my heart beating a mile a minute. “Don’t do that!”

“You need to stay aware of your surroundings. What if I was an infected?”

“An infected wouldn’t have tiptoed in here.”

Darren tossed a towel at me. “I found the bathrooms, and in the lounge around the corner, I found a water cooler with the jug almost full. You can use that to wash up.”

He led me to the communal showers two doors down from the room I’d raided.

“I already checked that nothing was in the showers and put the water jug in there. I’ll stand guard out here. I also brought a first aid kit, so when you’re done, I’ll wrap up your elbow. Don’t take too long.”

“Not sure how quick I can be when I’m scraping brains out of my hair,” I said and opened the door.

Just to be extra cautious, I re-canvased the bathroom. I found the showers at one end and a single bathtub.
Thank God.
I wouldn’t have to worry about holding up the heavy jug with my sore elbow. I splashed some water in the tub to clean off the grime from lack of use and then plugged the drain, emptying the rest of the water from the cooler jug in the tub. The water barely came up to my ankles, but I’d make do. At least the water wasn’t freezing. Someone had left a bottle of body wash in the stall, which would better help get the blood—and stench—off me.