Red Eye

Part Two

I don't know how I managed to shut out all of the noise outside and fall asleep. All those terrified screams, the desperate cries for help, the violent pounding against the door. But when I opened my eyes, everything had gone silent. Finding myself lying on the bathroom floor with my back propped against the wall, I rolled my neck, my bones cracking in discomfort as I tried to make sense of my surroundings. Blinking away the sleep from my eyes, a sudden panic rose in me as I remembered the horrors of the previous day and checked to make sure I was still in one piece. To my relief, all my limbs were still safely attached and even better, the trash can was still securely wedged underneath the door handle. The man with the crazed eyes hadn't made it through. I had survived, for now. Cue the biggest sigh of relief. 

Attempting to prop myself up on still wobbly legs, I succumbed to a surge of pain running through my body as my muscles moaned in pain from having slept on a cold tile floor instead of in my soft bed. Shoving everything back into my backpack, I pulled out my phone from my back pocket to check the time. 1:37pm. 20% Battery. Thankful I remembered my charger, I pulled the cord from my bag's side pocket and wrapped it around my hand, my eyes already on the look-out for an outlet. Coming up empty, I stared at the door, my hand outstretched but hesitant to turn the handle. 

Would it be safer to just stay here?

Pros-  Keypad means no one can get in. Unless the power goes out. 

Cons- I had only brought a single snack bar with me and my thermos was running on empty. Then again, I could drink from the faucet.  But at some point I'll get hungry again. Plus, no outlets to charge anything.

Shit.

Reluctantly I nudge the trash can away from the door with my foot. Pressing my ear against the door and hearing nothing, I pulled the handle until it clicked and slowly let it open.

...

The smell hits me first and I double over, dry-heaving as the wave of decay and rot washes over me. Covering my mouth to keep myself from gagging, I stumbled out of the bathroom and looked around, my brain failing to process the horrific scene around me. All of the furniture, the tables and chairs, had been knocked over. The displays had been completely wrecked, plastic lids and straws tossed on the floor, broken shards of the ceramic mugs littered the ground. Blood had been smeared on every single surface, like a morbid child's finger-painting. 

And the bodies... all the bodies.

The pony-tailed barista with her wide eyes, a dark bruise around her neck, her head lolled to one side. The mother who had used her body to shield her children splayed out on the floor. Her back had been stomped in. Her two kids, one boy and one girl, lay beside her, their skulls crushed to a bloody pulp. 

Bodies had been thrown about here and there like they were nothing. Limbs had been torn off, skulls had been cracked and caved in. It looked like a war zone. And the bomb had been one crazed man, high on adrenaline and pure rage. 

How did this happen? How could any of this happen?

Everything had been normal weeks before. We had all been blinded by the hustle and bustle of our everyday lives. Then somehow, overnight, the world had descended into chaos.

I don't know what came over me in that instant but my brain turned to auto-pilot. Rolling up my sleeves, I walked behind the counter and into the break-room. Taking down one of the aprons hanging from the coatrack, I put it over my neck and tied the strings around my waist. There would be no dignity in what I was about to do. I prayed to whoever might be listening for forgiveness, telling them I would treat each one with as much respect as I could give.