To Make it Through

“Maddy?” My voice barely comes out in a whisper. “Where are you?” 

I blink rapidly, trying to adjust to the darkness. I was gone for thirty minutes, not even. I told her I would be right back. She knows the dangers of exploring; exploring and staying out is the difference between life and death. 

I duck around the severed wires dangling from the ceiling and squeeze through the small opening through the debris, crossing into a section of the school I have not cleared yet. My hand flies to my thigh where my dagger rests, sending a wave of short lived relief through me. I can protect myself and my sister—when I find her.

I creep further down the abandoned hallway, peeking into empty classrooms. I always wanted to play hide and seek in a school, but never imagined it to be like this. Never did I imagine my life turning out this way, but after the virus wiped out half of the population, things began to change, people began to turn. 

It started with a simple infection one couple in California got. Nobody knows where the virus was contracted, only that the pair was admitted to the hospital after three days of consistent vomiting and the reported two, three am walks that they never seem to remember when the sun rose. 

The whole neighborhood the couple lived was headlining on every local and outside news station around Toronto. Neighbors told reporters about the “odd and peculiar” incidents happening in the dead of night. The couple was seen wandering around the block, eyes glazed and mouth gaping, ready to “bite ay anything that moved”. Their bodies couldn’t seem to hold its weight anymore every couple of staggered steps, they would collapse, then get back up as if nothing had happened. 

At the ripe age of sixty-five, Elliot Manning let his curiosity outwin his judgement—prime example of curiosity killed the cat. Accounts of the night reported he went outside around nine p.m, heading towards the couple. He made attempts at conversation, but the pair remained unresponsive. As the story goes, Elliot tried to usher the couple back into their home, thinking they were drunk and a good night’s rest would do them some good, but when he approached, the woman bared her teeth in a snarl, desperately trying to claw at him—to say she was frantic is putting it lightly. The man turned around at the commotion and staggered towards Elliot. The man bit into Elliots shoulder as if it were a chew toy. That’s when the police were called and by the time responders arrived, Elliot was on the ground convulsing with blood pooling beneath his neck and the couple moved across the yard languidly. 

Elliot was rushed to the hospital while officers called to the couple, and similar to Elliot, received no answer. They approached with caution and it was not until one of the officers got close enough to reach out a hand did the couple turn around slowly and launch themselves at the two officers. Nobody knows how the officers got the couple to the hospital, but early in the morning, all four of them arrived in the ER, the officers sporting scratches and teeth marks covering their arms and neck. All four were admitted and when the sun began to rise, the couple acted normal again, no more pale faces or droopy eyelids. Questions were asked and none were answered.

Doctors flew in from all over the world—Costa Rica, France, Thailand, and Ecuador. They ran tests, scans, took blood samples and did MRIs; everything they could think of, and still, nothing. Nobody could figure out what was happening.

 A couple of days later, the couple first began to lose their eyesight, then they lost feeling in their arms, legs, and soon their whole body. Some days they would bleed uncontrollably, as if their body was getting rid of all its fluid like a mortician would do with the deceased. They were dying and nobody could do a thing to help them. This was the first case. 

A little boy in South Sudan was the next. He was all over the news and everybody knew his face and name. He was admitted to the hospital, where he was in an induced coma for three weeks. Maddy and I would watch the news every night on our old clunky tv that barely got any signal in our small apartment in downtown Chicago. One after another, people were admitted to hospitals. The staff could not keep up with the influx of patients. Big white tents were set up in parks, parking lots, police stations to help the sick ones. In the end, it did not matter what anybody did, nobody would survive the disease. 

The couple who started the frenzy died after a month of hospitalization. Elliot Manning and the two officers joined the couple. The little boy soon followed, and in the span of a couple of weeks, nearly half of the infected population died. Small businesses were being looted and homes were broken into; the police couldn’t keep up. And so, the world descended into chaos. 

My sister, Maddy, and I stayed in our apartment complex for as long as we could—we were alone taking care of ourselves. Dad died of cancer when I was seven and Maddy was three. Five years later, mom walked out on us, no note, only a couple of crumbled hundred dollar bills and the apartment key that sufficed as her ‘letter’ to us that she would never be coming back. I always hoped she would, but she never did. Hoping does nothing good for anyone, it only leaves you feeling more empty than you originally did. From then on, it was Maddy and I against the world. I can’t lose her too.

The afternoon light seeps through the boarded-up windows, lighting up my path as best as the sun would dare. More light means less cover and less cover means little protection and little protection guarantees a death wish. People don’t survive long now-a-days. The ones who do, are either lucky or smart. 

A door bangs to my right. I flinch and stare. Chains weaved through a set of steel handled secured by a lock, keep the doors shut. Relief rushes over me, but my muscles won’t relax. Retrieving my knife from its home, I grip the handle and poise my hand in the air. 

I stick to the middle of the hallways in fear of what lurks in the shadows and the possibility of being dragged into the abyss. In the event his happens, I’ll be a good couple of inches away, and no contact will be made and I will have the upper hand.

 Fallen ceiling tiles crunch under my worn sneakers, making me cringe each time I hear a crunch. Walkers are drawn to any kind of noise, soft or loud, it doesn’t matter. I contemplate calling for Maddy again. Noise could alert the Infected to my presence, but also give me an idea where Maddy is, given she actually responds. The beginning of a headache teters behind my eyes. Pressing my palms to my temples, I move my palms in circular motions, hoping to dispel the pain. 

“Maddy?” My voice is hardly above a whisper as my call for Maddy echoes in the endless stretch of hallway. I stand still, straining my ears for any kind of noise. Minutes go by and all I hear is the pounding of my heart against my ribcage. But then I hear it—a small, almost inaudible answer.

The Infected doesn’t talk. “Quinn?” The noise came from farther up from where I’m standing. 

My grip on the knife tightened, my knuckles turning white as I raise my hand to be level with my eyes; aim for the brain. With fearful steps, I make my way down the hallway. My fear slowly melts into resentment as anger cruises through my veins, swirling till it has spread to my whole body This isn’t the kind of life we should be growing up in. Maddy and I should be with our family, our family without all its crappiness. We should be sitting around our second hand coffee table playing another round of Monopoly, stuffing our faces with popcorn and sour patch kids. We shouldn’t have to be fighting for our lives and wondering if we will wake up the next morning or having enough food or finding shelter. The pieces of a dream that could never be shatters, sprinkling all of the ‘what could have beens’ around on the cracked linoleum, as a scream pierces the silence.

My stomach drops, and I cannot move my feet fast enough. Nothing can stop the dread from making its way up my throat as all the ‘what ifs’ clog my airways.

My feet pound on the linoleum as frantic shuffling and scruffing disturb the quiet. I finally round the corner, coming face to face with a scene that could have been avoided. Maddy is on her back with an Infected on top of her snapping its jaw like a snapping turtle would and another crouched by her ankle, ready to ruin her untainted skin. I can only imagine what I must have looked like right now with my brown, borderline black, eyes narrowed into slits and chest heaving. I wanted this thing dead. 

As fury clouds my vision, my hand raises and my feet move faster than I ever thought they could. I approach the one by her ankle first, rearing my arm back for momentum then letting it snap back and embed the blade in the Infected brain. Blood trickles from the wound as the Infected slumps to the ground. Putting my foot against its head, I yank my knife out, wiping the blood on my jeans. I look towards Maddy, and her eyes are wide and terrified. With more force than needed, I ram my heel into the Infected side, successfully relieving Maddy of the dead man’s weight. The Infected flops, staring at me blankly and snarling. Not giving it a chance to stand up, I bend over, piecing the blade into the Infected neck. Blood goes everywhere, but it isn’t dead yet. Adrenaline fueling me, I look at the Infected in front of me. 

“Pathetic,” I mutter before stabbing it through the skull. I shake my wrist out in hopes of erasing the built up tension there. Glancing around one last time, I pocket my knife away in its sheath and turn around, facing my sister. My body softens as I take in her frantic eyes and dirt stained t-shirt. A sobs threaten to crawl up my throat, but I refuse to get pulled under. Instead, I suck in a breath and pull Maddy close to my chest. The relief doesn’t last, it never does. There are never only a few Infected milling about, there is always more. My frenzied eyes move around the hallway. 

“We have to go.” I clasp Maddy’s hand in mine and pull her along the way we came. “It’s not safe here anymore.”

“I’m sorry,” Maddy mumbles. 

“You should be!” I whirl around, throwing my hands in the air. “What were you thinking!?” 

Maddy ducks her head, playing with the hole on her sleeve. She doesn’t respond. 

A huff escapes from me, aggravation and worry eating at my heart. She could have died. 

“Do you understand the consequences when people encounter the Infected!?” I walk back and forth, my shoes scraping against the floor. “People die and become one of them! They are eaten alive, their bodies writhing in agony until the infection claims them.” My voices raises. Taking a deep breath, my voice quieter this time, “I can’t lose you Maddy,” I say.

When I look up, Maddys bottom lip quivers and tears threaten to spill over her round cheeks. Guilt eats away at the anger until none is left, leaving me empty. “I’m not helpless!” Maddy yells. I shrink away from the sound. “I am fourteen, Quinn! The world is in shambles and I have to survive. Not just live, Quinn! Survive! Do you know how hard that is!”

“I know, I know it is.” My chest squeezes. Like you would approach a spooked animal, I take small steps towards Maddy, until I am close enough to pull her into my arms. “I’m sorry for going all mom on you.” I hug her closer to me. “I worry about you. A lot.” 

She nods her head against my shoulder in acknowledgment. We stand there longer than we should have. Moans and groans fill the air, getting louder. I freeze. It’s not over. With wobbling legs and labored breaths, I take Maddy by the shoulders.  

“We have to go.” Pulling away, I take in her frightened eyes and the slight quiver in her knees. “Do you have your knife on you?” I ask. 

“Yeah.” Maddy gulps, speaking again. “Yeah, yeah I do.” She pats her hip where the weapon lays. I breathe a sigh of relief. Feet scraping along the floor pushes me into action. It’s time to go. I grab Maddy’s hand in mine and sprint through the hallway that will lead us back to our stuff.

We dodge hanging wires and scattered items on the floor. Turning the corner, we come face to face with three of the Infected. “Crap,” I mutter under my breath. Taking out my knife, I let go of Maddys hand and force my feet to move towards the danger. This is our only way out; we need to get through them. I suck in a breath, jabbing the sharp point between the Infected’s sunken eyes. Wiping off the blood splatter from my face with the back of my hand, I turn towards my next opponent. My chest heaves as I kick the body back. I lean over it and drive my knife through its brain. Cartilage rips as my blade rips through flesh. Gulping in air, I turn to look at Maddy and see her with blood smeared across her face. She gives me a thumbs up and we step over the dead, resuming our fast pace back to our room.  

We pass the chained door and crunch over the ceiling tiles. I risk a glance behind and spot the first couple of Infected rounding the corner. Panic surges me forward, adrenaline coursing through my veins, forcing me to pick up my pace. We are both panting by the time we reach the door to our room. A couple more steps. We cross the threshold, slamming the door behind us. 

“Pack our bags and check if any of the windows are open,” I command, scanning the room for something large and heavy to block the door. I spot the desk at the front of the room—that’ll do. Scrapping the legs of a teacher’s desk, I begin barricading the door. I place regular students desk upside down on top of the teachers desk and then place another desk on top of the other one, this time right side up. 

“Maddy,” I call, turning around. “Anything?” She has two duffel bags, zipped up and full. 

“They’re all sealed shut. We’ll need to break one.” 

Banging rattles the wooden door. With how many of them there are, I don’t know how long this barricade will hold up. 

“Break it.” Maddy nods. She grabs a chair and rams one of the legs into the glass. A crack forms in the middle and Maddy continues to pound at the glass. The groans gets louder and the desk moves an inch as the door creaks open. 

Keep going, keep going. The sound of glass shattering brings me some relief. Sunlight filters into the room, begging us to come join. I tell Maddy to go first. She does. The door moves inch after inch, weathered and decomposing arms poking through the opening. Swallowing down my fear, I shove our duffel bags through the opening one after the other. Snarls echoed through the room as the door gives way to the weight leaning on it from the other side. Hoisting myself up, I scramble through the opening, glass cutting jagged lines on my bare arms. Resistance meets me as I try pulling the rest of my body out; cold fingers and pointy bones graze my ankle. My heart picks up pace in time with an Olympic runners footsteps. I pull my foot forward, then in as much force as I can muster, I throw my foot back into the Infected face. It releases its hold and Maddy rushes to drag me the rest of the way out of the window. She helps me up, shouldering one of the duffels and handing me the other one. 

“Where do we go, Quinn?” Maddy looks at me expectantly. 

I don’t have an answer for her. “Anywhere but here.” 

Maddy nods and I take a good look at her. She is covered in blood, her short blonde hair is knotty, and sweat coats her skin. She looks older. Pain pieces my heart as realization of our new normal sets in. Find a place, stay for a little bit, run, repeat. 

“Hey.” Maddy looks at me, strength pouring out of her. “We need to get out of here.” Looking behind me, I see the dozen plus Infected in the room we were just in. 

I nod, gulping. I straighten the duffel strap on my shoulder. “ Let’s go.” We take off running, and hopefully this time, we will be able to find somewhere safe.