To The Grave

Chapter 34. Randall. Day 147.

I closed the heavy wood door slowly behind the three of us, watching the other two walk to the stairs. I could see Winona's papers still in the corner near the window. I watched Ferris swing the door open, blocking the evidence of my crime from sight. Marty followed him into the stairwell. I walked in slowly, letting the door close less than quietly.

Marty rounded the stairs, a level below me. I turned around quickly, pulling the door open quietly and rushing into hallway. I twisted the lock on the window, pulling it open, before rushing back to the closing door. I ran down the steps, bumping into Marty.

He turned around quickly, his glasses sliding down his face. I pulled air into my lungs, moving past him down the steps. I pushed the heavy metal door open to the main lobby, looking at the mess laid out in front of us.

Bodies were being dragged towards the front door, limp and pale. Some had more time to rot than others. I turned to Ferris, seeing him push his brother into the lobby. "Five unidentified corpses and six people from here. Three are hurt. Randall go help them."

"Have you found Kennon yet? Nobodies seen him since before all of this shit." A voice asked the oldest of us.

Ferris shook his head, his voice sounding worried, "No, I checked his room and the weapon's closet."

My stomach twisted, knotting itself. "We need the keys to his truck to carry the bodies to the beach." The voice continued.

My eyes focused on a man slumped in one of the decorative chairs in the lobby. There was a group of three injured people near the office. He sat on the other side of the lobby, quietly suffering. He held his bloody arm in his hand, everyone else seeming to ignore him and his pain.

He moved his red head to his face, feeling his forehead. I looked at the large gap missing from his arm. My mouth opened, trying to force the words out. "He- He's- uh-"

A gun fired, silencing the room and my sick stuttering. I peeled my eyes apart seeing the infected man laying back in the chair, his body now limp and bloodier than before.

"Kennon!" A voice screamed. I leaned back against the wall, seeing the older kid holding his gun in front of him. He moved it down, walking towards the front door. I turned around looking at my only friend and his shocked expression.

I rushed over to the people on the couch, each aching in their own agony. I grabbed a woman's hand, looking at the large cut on her arm. She spoke to me as I cleaned it off and wrapped it up. The words flew past me as I watched Marty and Ferris drag bodies out the door. I moved onto the next person seeing Kennon move inside, his gun still in his hand. I wrapped more bandages, seeing people run around trying to scrub the blood from the walls and block of areas. People began flooding out of the stairwell, looking around at the mess.

I stood up, following Marty outside. The truck was pulling away. "What do they do with the bodies?"