Part 6

He felt pity for her. A wave of it splashed him in the eyes. His hand was broken. He knew that. He looked at the grotesque image before him. The fingers bent rigidly in various directions and the palm had a disfigured look about it. It still bled profusely from the knuckles and he prayed silently that the pale color barely hidden by damp blood was not bone, but merely just another layer of raw skin. He glanced at her, truth hit him square in the face.
"I'm sorry." he muttered.
"Don't be. It's your hand..."
"No...not that." He responded.
"What then?" She insisted
*
They smelled blood in the air. Karl and Ryan investigated the ground. In the 2:30am darkness nothing could be spotted easily. Only sensed. Raising his hand from the concrete to the flickering light, Ryan saw blood drip off of his finger tips. He lowered his head to the ground and stood up, ushered Karl into the shadows near a dumpster. They rested there for a moment in the darkness, in the same bend that Alex had been brutalized and infected. They rose and continued to walk towards Communication Arts.
*
It was dark. Too dark. The generator powered lights continued to flicker providing an inconsistent and scarce illumination that made someone dizzy, rather than helped sight. The generator then proceeded to fail entirely. Death gripped the air when inhaled and rattled when exhaled. Chill had begun to linger as well and clouds blotted out the waning moon that provided a meek glow to the grounds. A soft and dousing rain had begun to cascade from the sky. Cleaning, refreshing, soaking. Wind began to gust and caused a sharp sting as it howled and carried the drops at a severe angle. The rain turned to hail, pummeled the ground and forced Mike Benson to his feet when he heard it against the roof. He stepped over the still corpse of Victor and headed down the hall.
*
Ryan stared in horror when he saw swarms of the undead through the glass of the Wylie hall doors as they peeked around the corner.
"You ready?" Karl suggested.
"What? You mean go charging in there right now? We can't do that. It...certain doom. And then-"
"Listen Ryan. Would you rather pass off what we just saw to Garrett and have everyone panicking. Or would you like to come back- soaked in the blood of victory and a true hero."
It took a small vision in Ryan's mind for him to raise the shotgun to his hip and reposition the hatchet on his belt.
"Alright, now we're talkin'." triumphed Karl. He raised his cleaver.
They barged in.
*
"Garrett, talk to me. What happened?"
"Nothing. Not anything that matters anymore."
*
Gunshots pierced the air and a few bodies fell. Karl rushed into the mass blade held high and revolver drawn. Ryan reached to restrain but missed Karl's charging shoulder.
*
The elevator opened with a *bing* on the fourth floor.
*
"KARL!" roared Ryan as he saw the arm with the blade swing down and Karls body disappear into the mass. Ryan Fired.
*
Garrett swung to the floor, grabbed his 9mm pistol and held his stance pointing at the doorway.
*
He knows what he has to do...I have to get back...I'm sorry Karl. Retreating, Ryan backed through the swinging glass doors while continuing to fire. As the door closed he heard seven gunshots in rapid sequence. Karl's eighth bullet waited for the chance...that would never come.