The Demented Z (Novella): Confliction by Thomas Derek J

Author:Thomas, Derek J. [Thomas, Derek J.]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: zombies
Published: 2014-08-06T07:00:00+00:00

Chapter 4: Tomb

She wasn’t sure what woke her, maybe the dead silence. Abby had no idea how long she had been sleeping under the large conference table, but her hips told her it had been quite a while. She uncurled herself, pushed a couple chairs apart and squeezed through. The upstairs conference room she had barricaded herself into was dimly lit by several recessed floor lights intermittently spaced around the walls.

Abby’s joints resisted movement as she stood up. She knew she had slept too long. After barricading both doors with entry desks and chairs, she had hunkered down listening to the chaos around her. The infected had continued to stream into the building, filling it with grunts and growls for what seemed like hours. Infected scratched at the doors to her room, but none tried to get in. The noises slowly subsided, but she was far too afraid to leave the room. Instead she curled up under the table, hoping to wake to the old world…safe. Instead, she woke here, in the same room, with the same apocalyptic world just outside the doors.

She had spent some of her time on the scratchy carpet thinking about everything that had happened. The past thirty six hours had blown by like a whirlwind, not leaving any time for analysis. Movies always had highly contagious zombies. If someone contacted bodily fluid through bites or splatter they turned. Do I have to worry about contracting whatever this is? Do the people know they were about to go crazy? The dead ones that come back, are they aware? She went on and on with the questions in her head before finally falling asleep.

Long shadows stretched away from her feet as she made her way along the smooth wall to the set of double doors. She quietly climbed on top of the onyx desk she had dragged over as a barricade. The door’s solid wood was surprisingly cool when she pressed her ear to it listening. Low grunts. A snort. The shuffling of shoes on carpet sounded like a dry paintbrush swiping across a metal shed. With the caution of a prowling cat, Abby backed her way off the desk.

She eased across the carpet, hoping the single door at the back of the room would offer more hope. As carefully as possible she slid her chair fence out of the way one chair at a time. She pressed her ear to the unmarked door and listened. Silence. She remained in the same position, breath held tight, for as long as she could. After repeating this several times she wrapped her slender fingers around the nickel plated handle. Her fingers squeezed tightly. The beating of her heart thundered through her whole body. She took a steadying breath and then applied slow downward pressure on the handle until she felt the release give way with a slight click.

Hesitantly she eased the door open enough to peer out. A dimly lit hall stretched into the darkness, white doors lining both sides.

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