Sorrow's Gift

Chapter Six: Noah

His hands were shaking.

What the hell had just happened? The moment he'd lost his balance, he had known it was over for him. He'd literally felt teeth sink into his skin.

How was he still alive?

Noah's heart raced. He wanted to get inside and strip down in the bathroom to see if he could find a wound they'd missed. There was no way that many rotters had been on top of him and none of them had managed to actually bite him.

Crash took a keyring full of jangling keys from his pocket and unlocked the door leading from the parking garage to the main building.

"Come on, guys," he said. "Let's get down to my apartment and get settled. We have a lot to talk about."

Noah stood and forced his feet forward. He quickly grabbed his duffel bag from the back of the Humvee and followed the others into the dank concrete stairwell. It was almost like he was only half here. Dead man walking. His heart pounded in his ears and he couldn't seem to catch his breath. The others were talking and rushing inside, but Noah could barely even hear them.

All he wanted to do was make sure he was really okay.

What if they'd missed something? What if he had a bite somewhere under his clothes and he turned into one of those things? He'd end up killing someone.

His mouth opened slightly and he struggled to draw a deep breath, wanting to calm his heart. Even his vision was blurred from worry. Or was it the virus working its way through him?

He shuddered and looked up to the second floor landing. The concrete stairs were stained and covered in dirt and filth. The entire place was dark except for the dim light of some emergency bulbs along the floor at each landing.

The door to the second floor was closed, but the sounds of moans echoed throughout the stairwell.

They'd just stepped into a building full of them.

Crash must have secured the doors, because they were all shut tight, but the sounds coming from behind those doors were undeniable.

Noah did not want to become one of them.

He gripped the railing and tapped his toes inside his boots, waiting for the others to make their way down the stairs to the basement. Crash's apartment must have been down there, and Noah hoped to God he'd been able to soundproof the place. He wasn't sure how they'd survive listening to these moans all day and night.

Once the others had started down, Noah hiked his bag higher on his shoulder and made his way down behind them. He'd dropped his shotgun outside somewhere, but he still had a pistol and a bat. He liked the shotgun, though, because he didn't have to be close range to kill. He wondered if Crash had more guns stashed downstairs.

Crash led them down a dark hallway. Water dripped somewhere nearby, the sound of each drop echoing softly around them. There were only a few doors down here, and most of them were unmarked. Electrical closets, maybe? Supply rooms for the building?

Crash stopped near the end of the hall at a door with the numbers 102 nailed to the front, their bronze surface scratched and dirtied.

He went through a series of locks and deadbolts and finally, after cycling through more than ten different keys, pushed the door open and leaned against the wall with a smile.

"Home sweet home." He motioned for them to go inside and Noah let the three girls go in first before he followed.

Crash shut the door behind them and threw the bolts on all the locks. Noah started to walk past him, but Crash grabbed his arm, holding him back from the others.