Finding Humanity

Chapter 9

I really didn't want to turn around. The guys were behind me and I had no idea if they'd turned to face the speaker. I gripped the doorknob tighter, but I couldn't bring myself to twist it. I was stuck between wanting to be a good person and wanting to live.

"Look, I don't want to be out here. Please, at least just let me in the building. I need a bandage."

I turned around and took my hand off the doorknob.

The woman who'd been at the bench was now standing just a few feet from us. Her eyes kept darting between us and her now very dead friend. She clutched her arm to her chest. There was a large chunk of skin missing, blemishing the otherwise flawless, dark complexion. Her jaw was set as she grimaced in pain, but her eyes were fierce and filled with determination.

"No," Nick stated, leaving no room for debate.

"Come on-" The woman took a step closer, but Paul held out his hand indicating for her to stop.

"I'm sorry, but we don't know you. I wish we could help you, but we can't."

I thought that was a bit funny since the three of us wouldn't have even known each other from a hole in the wall had we not gotten stuck in that elevator.

The woman pursed her lips at us. "You all just killed my husband. And I know you saved my life, but don't you think the least you could do is give me something for my arm?"

I was biting the inside of my cheek so hard that I could taste blood. I knew she was trying to guilt us, but I also knew how every zombie movie worked. If you were bitten, you were infected. After watching the way that thing had tried to get up after being stabbed by Nick, I was becoming more convinced that it was zombies we were dealing with. It still seemed impossible, but I was coming to terms with the idea that maybe the impossible had happened.

I knew I had to adjust to the new reality the last few hours had thrust me into. I was already kicking myself for choosing hair pulling over stabbing the zombie or something. Evidently, it wasn't my first instinct to kill. A part of me rejoiced in that, but it also scared me.

I had to get to my mom. I had to go home. I had to live.

I turned my back on her.

"Please." Her voice was now quivering "I got kids."

I also had to be able to live with myself.

"If we let you in, then we get to tie you up." The words slipped out of my mouth and I immediately regretted them.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

I could hear Nick grumbling behind me, but I didn't turn around. I opened the door and quickly entered the building. It took a few minutes of what sounded like a muffled, heated arguing before they finally entered the building with the woman in tow.

"201." Nick tossed me the keys once he crossed the threshold.

I walked up the creaky stairs, trying to ignore the smell of mildew as I listened intently for any signs we weren't alone. Luckily, Nick's door was the first at the landing. I unlocked it and we swiftly entered, Nick dead bolting it shut behind us.

The apartment was a shit-hole. We'd entered into the kitchenette that had obviously seen better days. There was a fridge that made a loud hum and a stove that looked to be at least twenty years old. The floor was made out of linoleum that was scuffed to the point where the pattern was unintelligible. There was a countertop with two stools separating the kitchen area from the rest of the room.

The kitchenette opened up to a small family room with a beige rug and off-white walls. It looked like Nick had tried to do his best with it. There were a lazy boy and lounge couch set up in front of a good-sized TV. His coffee table was covered with books, movies, and used drinking glasses. He had a bookcase and a desk with a computer set up in the corner of the room that had a picture of him with a dog. The opposite wall had two doors that I assumed led to the bedroom and bathroom.