Until I Die(18+)

27.

        WHEN THE SHUTTERS TOUCH GROUND, the alarms stop. A short beep sounds every ten seconds or so. Quiet, barely noticeable over the grunts and snarls of the snacking Infected somewhere behind me.

        I walk in a steady line towards Eric, one step at a time. My arms stretched out around me like I'm walking a tight rope. I can't see anything. I'm completely blinded. I try not to think about the Infected finishing their meal and prowling the mall for another. Especially since I'm the closest one to them.

        "Eric," I say, my voice lower than a whisper. I didn't want to draw their attention to me as I made my retreat. As much as I wanted to run, to get away as fast as I could, I also didn't want to risk losing my bearings by rushing into the unknown.

        The sound of Eric's footsteps slow. He's usually light on his feet, so I know he's treading louder for my sake.

        "Keep talking, Jo. Tell me what happened. I'm almost there." His voice is in front of me, as quiet as mine. I think he might be a little to the left, so I shift my direction slightly.

        "Sam's dead," I state the obvious, voice shaking. "She wanted to meet the fucking army guy. Apparently she has a thing for them."

        "I'm almost there. Reaching out to you – don't be scared." A hand brushes against my outstretched wrist and he latches onto it. "I got you. You good?" he asks gruffly, pulling me close.

        For a second, his hand slips from my wrist to my hand where he squeezes it tight before letting go. Eric then proceeds to wrap one arm around my waist, holding me close to his side. Protecting me by surrounding me. I can feel his crowbar by my hip, hanging off his hand.

        "Yes. I think so." A brief moment of panic washes over me. Could I have been bit and not noticed? No. They'd not got close enough. I didn't even get a glimpse of their faces. "What do we do?"

        Our steps are cautious. The hand holding my knife stays outstretched, feeling for stalls or pillars. I wonder how long it will take for our eyes to adjust – or if they even will in darkness this thick.

        "We get upstairs. I packed a flashlight from our store. We get that, kill the Infected, and get the fuck outta here."

        Having a plan grounds me. Helps me feel more in control. I nod into the dark. "Sounds good."

        "These people-" he growls, furious. "I told them to check the soldiers before locking them away. For wounds, bite marks. As usual it's a harsh lesson to not trust anyone. Take it on board, Jo. You need something done; you do it yourself."

        "Noted." Poor Eric. I want to say more, reassure him it's not his fault but a grating noise makes me jump. It comes from behind us. I picture the Infected crawling free, their thick army uniform catching on the shutter. "Eric. . ."

        "I know." He speeds up, hand tightening on mine. I match his pace. "We should almost be at the escalators."

        "This way! Jo! Eric!" Dad and Ben's voice hisses at us, high up. Good. We were still on track in the right direction.

        "We're here." Eric pushes me in front, hands on my hips. "Steady, Jo. Take it one at a time." When I find my balance on the first step, he lets me go.

        The tip of my foot nudges against the base of the step. I use it to guide me, up one and then the other. My hands grip the rubber lining the top of the rails either side of me. I know Eric wants me to go slow, but I don't like how vulnerable he is waiting on me – his back to them. My need to protect him has me speeding up and I curse as I trip, landing on my hands.