Eighteen

Angie clenched at the sound of her children screaming. She was pacing the patient hallway, cell phone against her ear. Park had given her the other rifle. It was slung over one shoulder, slapping against her back as she paced.

"Maylee!" she screamed into the phone. "Dalton!"

She heard the sounds of a struggle. And moaning. And her children screaming.

Then she heard something knocking the phone around. Feet? Hands? Her kids' hands?

"Maylee?" she yelled. Freeda ran in from the nurse's station.

"Dalton?" Angie yelled. Tears were coming freely now. She heard more screams, then the sound of something crunching down on the phone. Then static.

Then nothing. The phone was dead.

Angie stopped. She was at the far end of the hallway, in front of the window that looked out over the darkened trees and hills behind the hospital. She listened to the hum of her own phone.

"Maylee! Dalton!" she screamed. She was shaking. Her phone finally recognized the connection was lost and dropped it.

Angie was crying. "Oh god." She snapped the phone shut and let her hand fall to her side.

Then Freeda was behind her. "Anj?"

"They're dead, Freeda." Angie didn't look back at Freeda. She stared at the dark outlines of treetops. Somewhere out there are more of the things that killed my children. Killed them while I was stuck in here.

"You don't know that..."

"I heard it," said Angie. "Oh god, Freeda, I heard them screaming."

"Anj..."

"I wasn't there. Why the hell wasn't I there? My children died and I wasn't there."

Behind her, Freeda said nothing.

Angie drew in a ragged breath. "I can't do this anymore, Freeda."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean I'm done," Angie said, putting her forehead on the glass. I could break out the window. I could jump.

"Don't say things like that..."

"What the hell am I supposed to say?" said Angie, turning to face Freeda.

Sam Shuab grabbed Freeda from behind and bit into her temple.

Freeda gasped. Blood spurted from her temple and Sam chewed. His eyes were clouded and thick dark fluid oozed from the gaping hole in the back of his head.

"Freeda!" yelled Angie.

Sam pulled Freeda back down the hallway, chewing and moaning. Freeda grabbed at Angie but missed. Her arms flailed at nothing as Sam pulled her back. She kicked, her legs scraping against the floor.

Angie lunged forward, dropping her cell phone to the floor. She grabbed Freeda with both hands and tried to pull her away. Sam pulled back and bit deeper into Freeda's head. Freeda screamed. Blood ran down her face and into her open mouth. Her fingers dug into Angie's arm, strong at first but quickly becoming weaker.

Sam wrenched Freeda away from Angie like an animal protecting its food. He took several steps back, dragging Freeda with him. He kept chewing into Freeda's head. Freeda started shaking and convulsing.

Angie rushed after her. Her foot landed on her cell phone. She stumbled and heard her phone snap in two under her feet.

Angie stopped and watched Sam eating Freeda. Cold reason hit her. It's too late.

And only then did she remember the rifle on her back. One more failure to add to the pile.

She pulled the rifle from her shoulder and leveled it at Sam's forehead. How long had it been since she'd last handled a gun? She couldn't remember.

She remembered enough. She fired and Sam's head snapped back. Blood and bits of Freeda's head spilled from his mouth. He let go of Freeda and fell over backward.

Freeda slumped to the ground, twitching.

Angie stepped over and looked down at Freeda. Tears stung Angie's eyes and cheeks.

Freeda convulsed and jerked. Blood ran from her temple and onto the floor. Freeda looked at Angie. Pain and fear filled her eyes.

"Damn it," whispered Angie down at Freeda. "I'm sorry."

Angie pointed down and shot Freeda just above the left eye. A large red hole appeared in Freeda's head and Freeda slumped still.

"Oh god!" came Kristen's voice from the front of the hall. Angie looked. Kristen stood there, Park behind her. Mr. Paulson was out of sight somewhere behind them.

Kristen started to run in. Angie pointed the gun at her.

"Stop! All of you stop!"

“Oh god," said Kristen, shaking and putting her hands to her mouth. "I'm so sorry."

"You shut up! I should shoot you right now!"

"I couldn't do it," said Kristen. "Sam..."

Tears came faster now. "He was dead! I'm sorry for that, but he was already dead!" She motioned with the gun at Freeda's body. Her face still showed the fear and pain she had died in. "This didn't have to happen!"

She looked down at Freeda for several seconds. She drew in a breath and spun the gun around to face herself. She put the barrel in her mouth.

Kristen stepped forward. "No!"

Angie took the rifle out of her mouth and pointed it back at Kristen. "Stay back! There's nothing stopping me from shooting you first!"

Kristen was crying. "Your kids..."

"My kids are dead, you stupid bitch. And so am I."

She turned the rifle back on herself. She put her mouth over the barrel. It was still warm from shooting Freeda. She put her finger on the trigger.

The cell phone in Freeda's smock started ringing.

Angie stopped and stared at Freeda's pocket. She could see the phone flashing.

Kristen stood still at the front of the hall, biting the ends of her fingers.

The phone kept ringing.

Angie slowly removed the gun from her mouth and lowered it. She knelt down next to Freeda's body. Freeda stared at her with empty eyes. Angie fished the cell phone from Freeda's pocket. She opened it and answered.

"Hello?" she said.

"Mom?"

Maylee.

* * *

Maylee stood in the middle of the street just in front of what was left of her house. Dalton stood next to her, looking scared but unhurt. She held her bat in one hand and Brooke's cell phone in the other. She'd found it in the middle of the yard, where Brooke appeared to have thrown it. That or she made it out here, then went back into the house before ...

"Maylee?" said Mom's voice on the phone. "Oh my god. Are you okay? Is Dalton okay?"

"We're both fine. We tried calling your phone but it wouldn't answer. Finally I remembered Freeda's number. Brooke..." Maylee paused and swallowed.

When she and Dalton had escaped the kitchen, dropping the phone and ducking under the grasp of the corpses, their first thought had been to run around to the front of the house. That was the way Brooke had been running when they separated, and that was where Brooke's screaming had come from.

And that's where they had found what was left of Brooke. She had been torn open. Like a bag of meat and organs. And those things, those corpses that somehow still walked and ate, were crouching down next to her, pulling out hunks of her and eating. They had looked vacantly at Maylee and Dalton as they chewed.

"Why aren't they attacking us?" Dalton had asked.

"Because they already have food," Maylee had responded. "As soon as they run out, we'll be next."

Brooke's head had been the only recognizable part of her left. Her hair spread out toward the sidewalk. Her open eyes stared at Maylee and Dalton.

Maylee tried not to think of Brooke. Tried to focus on Mom's voice on the phone. "They got her, Mom."

"Oh my god," said Mom, quietly. "Listen, you have to get somewhere safe and hide."

"Nowhere's safe, Mom," said Maylee, walking up the street. She looked into the windows of the cars parked along the curb. Looking for something.

She found it.

"Maylee, you've got to..."

"Mom," said Maylee, cutting her off. "I have to confess something to you."

Mom paused. "What are you talking about?"

Maylee rubbed her hand on her forehead and looked up and down the street. She could hear screaming and see corpses wandering in the distance, but nothing close. The phone beeped in her ear. She held it away from her face and looked. The battery was dying. She sighed and put the phone back to her ear. "You know my friend Stacy? We've been sneaking out her mom's car from time to time. To practice driving."

"Maylee, you're fourteen!"

"I'm pretty sure I know that, Mom." She rolled her eyes at Dalton. He was looking up and down the street, looking scared. "And we don't have a lot of time right now, Brooke's phone's dying."

"You brought it up. Why on earth are we talking about this now?" asked Mom.

"Because someone left their keys in this car," said Maylee, looking through the window. "And we're stealing it."

"Maylee, you will do no such thing! The police..."

"Have more important things to worry about. We're coming to the hospital."

The phone beeped again and went dead.

* * *

Angie swore at the phone and dialed Brooke's number. It rang and rang, but no answer. Either Maylee was ignoring her or the phone had died like Maylee had said. She snapped the phone shut and walked to the nurse's station.

Kristen was standing there, red faced and crying. Park was standing with his arms crossed, rifle slung over his shoulder. Mr. Paulson sat in his wheelchair, scowling about something but keeping quiet.

"We going?" said Park.

"Yeah," said Angie. "We're going. We've got to get to the parking lot as soon as possible. My kids are alive and they're coming here."

"Oh thank god," said Kristen.

"You shut up," said Angie. "We're getting out, I'm getting my kids and we're getting the hell out of here."

"Works for me," said Park, shrugging. "Which way we going?"

"Pick a hallway," said Angie, taking the rifle from her shoulder and gripping it.