BETTER SAFE THAN ZOMBIE

OZTS 22 | Pieces

A door appeared in front of us, and Hazel yanked me towards it.

"We'll hide here for now," she panted. "I'm about ready to drop."

I followed her in, and then Ethan, and then -

He closed the door and locked it.

"Wait!" I cried out. "What about Christian?"

Ethan stared at me, his eyes surprised. Then the emerald green in them suddenly dimmed into a darker shade, and my heart squeezed into a tight knot as he and Hazel exchanged looks.

"He wasn't with us," he explained, almost apologetically. "After the warehouse exploded, we saw Kailey dragging him off, and then we tried to chase them. They went inside this hotel, but we didn't manage to follow them when we arrived."

Black spots dotted my vision, and the wound in my belly - then forgotten and now remembered - flared to life.

Hazel's face registered alarm, and she barely caught my forearm to steady me as I staggered. "Kath? You okay?"

I gasped for breath, feeling my teeth start to chatter as I forced my throat to work. "Have...to find...Christian."

"Of course," agreed Hazel, a bit impatient. "But more importantly, what's happening to you? Your skin feels feverish. Is it your wound? Or are you..." She trailed off.

A weak humorless giggle escaped out of me. I knew what she meant, and knew it was the least of my worries. In fact, it was what started all my worries in the first place.

"Hazel," warned Ethan in a low voice. The door behind him had started groaning with the weight of the zombies outside, craving to gouge on our flesh. Judging by the sound, there must be at least a dozen.

"Later," she snapped, distracted. Her face was deeply concentrated as her hand slid down from my arm to my wrist.

"Her pulse pressure's extremely low," she stated in a matter-of-fact voice, before gently lowering me to sit on the floor. "I think she's dying, Ethan."

Butterflies had sprang to life inside me, except they didn't feel like butterflies, but maggots. Squirming white grains of rice - no, cooked rice, they felt much larger - feeding on my subcutaneous fat, turning my wound into a rice grain mosh pit.

Suddenly the maggots were in my throat as well, and I heaved. Nothing came up except air - when was the last time I ate? - and Hazel made me lie on my back. I felt her hands upturn my shirt, and a sharp inhalation.

Coming from her, that meant it was much worse than I had anticipated.

Ethan walked over to us, and he gave out a muffled curse. "Fucking shithole, Kath. It looks like a lung cancer autopsy."

Their faces weaved in and out of focus, their voices seemingly far away.

"She's been shot in the stomach, so the bleeding's not too much of a problem," Hazel was saying. "It's the infection that concerns me. We have to get her into surgery, and soon."

A sudden spasm caught me, and I mewled, like a dying kitten. Kitty Kath, I thought, giggling in the haze I was in. Kitty Kath, the useless scaredy cat.

"How the fuck are we going to do that?" asked Ethan, sounding frustrated. He was a faceless blob in my vision, looking more like an alien than my close friend. "Death's knocking on our door - literally. And I've used all of my bullets."

Hazel looked down at me, dark blue eyes floating above her head. "I lost most of the stuff in my backpack at the explosion too," she muttered. "Damn it, I should have just let Kath go with Dad. She could have been treated already."