Followed by death

Chapter 3

Taylah's POV

Josh dashed ahead of me into a nearby Library as moans called out from behind. Slow, shuffling footsteps were clambering behind us. I slammed into the door, bursting it open, then I grabbed it with my right arm, and shoved fiercely as I continued to jog, panting hard as I clutched my stomach with other arm. I felt like puking as my stomach churned, but I knew I didn't have time, and my body seemed to understand this.

I looked forward, and stumbled towards Josh, as he held open a second door into the Library, his expression fierce and worried.

"Hurry! They're right behind you!" He shouted.

I nodded, then slid through the door quickly. The door slammed behind me, and I didn't even looked behind me before I picked up a nearby chair, then used it as a barricade to stop them from getting in, holding it against the shiny knob of the orange door. Panting, we both stepped shakily away from the door as banging began from the other side.

"Those things are persistent," Josh grumbled, and I nodded as I looked around, panting.

"There's nowhere else to go," I sighed, then put my head in my hands, "What the Hell are we going to do?"

"I don't know," Josh replied, and I could see him looking at the door out of the corner of my eyes, watching as it jostled precariously. We were done for. We had nowhere else to go, and they were banging against that door. In less than ten minutes, they'd be in here.

"I wish Storm were here," I mumbled, as I remembered how he'd been attacked, and we'd just run off.

After we'd left, we'd made it to a nearby restaurant, and began to take everything we could gather from it. Of course, with all of the Sick patrons clawing at us, all we were really able to get from that venture was a knife, which came in handy while we were running. After we got away from the restaurant and taking a few back alleys, stabbing a few sick people, we managed to make it to a lake. An angry mob of cold, stumbling rotting people were too much for us to take on alone with just a knife, so... we ended up here. Trapped between Jenny Craig's Sickly, and a wall as hard and cold as stone. Well, I was pretty sure it was made of stone, but still.

We were alive and well, and we had been for the last five hours. But with the pounding at that door, I doubted we had much longer left.

"Maybe if we stay quiet, they'll eventually give up and go away?" Josh asked hopefully, and I held back a shaky sigh, then nodded.

I wanted to burst into tears. We were about to die, and the worst part about it was, we'd have to spend our last moments cowering in fear and silence, while those terrifying moans howled at us from behind the shaking door.

My hands shook as the worry ate away at me. The worry for ours lives, the worry for my friends, family... terror filled every fibre of my being, and I didn't have a single ounce of control over it.

"L-let's just keep quiet, o-okay?" Josh asked, moving closer to me, and looking me straight in the eyes.

I sighed shakily and nodded.

"Okay," I huffed quietly, slowly regaining my composure, which made me nod a bit more strongly, "Okay," I repeated quietly, as we moved almost silently away from the doors.

We both sat in a couple of soft chair in the other side of the room, a table between us, and I leaned back, figuring that if I were going to die, I'd be doing it in comfort. It terrified me how true that thought could have been.

"How are you handling all of this, Josh?" I breathed, as he leaned forward a little in his seat.

"Considering the circumstances, I think I'm doing okay," he breathed back, but then looked with a fearful expression at the door, "It's hard to cope with all of the..." he trailed off for a moment, then blinked and looked back at me, "All of this unexpected stuff."