Up the elevator... the lights climbed the console... the door dinged. There was a hallway, and a few bodies nearby, all sporting the bullet wounds that Rayford spoke of. I took one look at one of the torn bodies—a woman, in a pencil skirt—laying in a cross shape on the floor, her spinal chord ripped out and lying across her like someone tried to place it back inside of her, through the ripped cavity that opened her from throat to stomach. I turned around and vomited into a potted plant, and I was surprised to find Wayne stooping behind me, pulling my hair out of my face and placing a tentative hand on my back.
"Gross," Hailey said, looking at the body, and then looking at Wayne and I. As if on cue, she broke down into gulping tears. I wondered if she was truly upset or seeking attention from Wayne—who, the more I looked at, seemed a little more attractive then even the muscular Pedro.
Why were my hormones kicking in now? I thought angrily. My parents are dead and romance doesn't even belong in my life. But Wayne seemed like the most beautiful being at the moment he showed some gesture of kindness and basic humanity.
I wiped my wrist across my mouth and stood up, suddenly resolute. "I'm fine," I said coldly, "Leave me alone."
Wayne's lips were full and his eyes were deeply concerned. His hand slid from my back and down my arm, taking my hand and squeezing it. I tried to show my appreciation by squeezing his back, but he winced and pulled his hand away.
"I'm sorry, I have a strong grip," I said awkwardly, stepping backwards.
"You don't even need to aim for a potted plant next time," Rayford tried to be comforting. "No one will be mad at you if you make a mess."
YOU ARE READING
Bite
HorrorA motley crew of survivors during the zombie apocalypse head for a skyscraper where safety is promised. A short story that tries to answer the question - what do ZOMBIES think about?
