Chapter 7 "Safe"

Zoey...

That was a good cry. I wipe my face of any remaining tears that linger, sniffling every other second. I begin to ease myself and find a comfortable position to sleep on this noisy couch. That's when I hear the sound of footsteps.

My eyes, now wide and awake, shoot in different directions, finally looking toward the door. I quickly get up from the squeaky couch. Trying my best not to make too much noise as I back away from the apartment door, I look over my shoulder to my provisions. I turn back to the source of the sound that echoes from the other side. My trembling finger takes the safety off of my firearm, as my face grows hot with discontent.

With no more room to walk back, I feel the coffee table against my leg as I bump into the teak wood, scooting a couple of things on it. I glance back at my little supplies then immediately turn back to the door. Slowly, but surely, I raise my pistol and aim as I watch the knob turn.

The door opens...

Louis...

"Behind you!"

I point frantically.

Bill quickly turns around and swings violently, hitting a snarling infected. It hits the ground lifelessly, or at least as lifeless as it can already get. Bill sputters with relief and casually swings the crowbar back and forth by his side.

"Nice job, Louis." Said Bill.

I nod to Bill, still wearing a face of angst, then look over to the rest of the infected bastards that are flooding through the entrance of the apartment complex. My eyes grow wide and I anxiously tug on Bill's jacket.

"What now!?" I jabbered.

Bill smacks my hand away and runs to the stairs.

"Stay close!" Said Bill.

We make our way toward the stairs while avoiding the infected. They swipe at us as we slip past them near the shattered glass frame of the building's entrance door. I jump over an infected that we had previously taken care of, and stay close to Bill as he ordered.

The door gives in and they all start to pile in like a flash flood.

My heart races, but my head remains facing forward. God only knows what I'll see if I look back. Bill and I find ourselves at the end of the hall, desperately trying to remain as calm as possible. I watch Bill take out the master key and try for the door on our left. The virals successfully make their way up the stairs and head towards us at full speed.

My breathing quickens, growing raspy and uneven.

"Stuck between two hard places, stuck between two hard places..." I repeatedly whisper loudly.

The lock on the door unlatches.

"Got it!" Said Bill.

Without hesitation, I ram the door open and enter the apartment complex. Bill follows right behind me and slams the door shut. He firmly holds the door and looks back to me.

"Find something to block the door before they-

A putrefied, bony hand breaks through the knob and wildly swipes and claws at us.

"Holy..!" Bill screamed.

I impulsively let out a high-pitched yelp from the hand that sprung out from the other side, and quickly ran to it with my bat over my head. I swing down with all my might, repeatedly smacking it over and over.

"Do. You. Like. That?!" I said, emphasizing every word after each hit.

The hand, now beaten and broken beyond its original state, pulls away and retreats out the hole opening.

"Stop, and get a chair or something!" Said Bill, holding the door with his back.

"To hit it with..?!"

"NO! To barricade the door, come on!"

"Oh." I utter sheepishly.

I temporarily drop the bat on the floor, and look around the room. I grab every single item of all shapes and sizes and pile it around the door. From the two foot tall Hawaiian girl statue, to the lamp pole with visible oily fingerprints, everything was thrown into the pile. While I was preoccupied handling the door's barricade, I hadn't noticed that Bill ran over to the window. After moving nearly everything in the apartment in front of the door, I look over to Bill. He lifts the windowpane, and turns back to me.

"Let's get the hell out of here." Said Bill.

I run over to his side and poke my head out the window. Outside, looking down I witness a massive horde looking up back at us with rage and hunger. They claw at the air, thinking somehow they'll miraculously grab us from all the way down there. Hold up...

I look to Bill with an implausible glower.

"Are we seriously jumping across?!" I said tensely.

"What? No, of course not." Said Bill.

After my heart skipped a beat from Bill's unexpected response, I calm down then smile, and sigh with relief.

"We're going to jump over to the stairwell alongside us."

Bill points to the stairwell, and my eyes pop out of my head as I glare at him. My mouth stays shut, but he knows damn well what I wanted to say to him, given that he simply smirks at me.

"Come on, don't be like that, Harley. It's closer than the roof that's right across from us." Said Bill.

"That's not the point!" I screeched.

First of all, there was barely any room to hang our bodies off the window, at all. Small ledges equal an abrupt and untimely death for one of us, or both of us. Second, we're at an awkward angle to be jumping over to the adjacent stairwell of the apartment building. Despite it being a single window distance away, how are we supposed to build the momentum to jump across with such weird angling?!

"Hey," Said Bill, snapping his finger in my face. "Quit thinking and get to climbing."

I come to and blink my eyes. I shake my head and look to Bill.

"Two second thoughts, remember?" I retorted.

"Yeah, well it's been more than two seconds and you'd already be dead."

The door to the apartment complex is shoved open to a crack, the items in front of the door roll down the tall pile and crash on to the floor. Bill and I twirl our heads and see some of the infected outstretching their arms through the crack. The opening to the doorway gradually widens as I sit and watch in horror.

"Alley-oop!" Bill cried.

I turn back around and see him flying toward the rusty stairwell, landing safely on the platform. The impact from Bill's landing shakes the building, even my fingers could feel the wave of the aftershock. Bill stands from the platform and waves to me.

"Get your ass over here!" He said.

I envy this man's courage.

"O-Okay..!" I stammered.

I take deep breaths and slowly climb out the window and hang from the ledge. My heart beats rapidly.

At that moment, I hesitated.

I'm not sure why, but I couldn't move after getting my body out of that ratchet ass room and out over the crowd of rampant Lady Gaga fans. My ears begin to ring, and my field of vision grows warped...

Zoey...

The door slowly creaks open wider, and I instinctively fire a warning shot at the corner of the ceiling, away from the person's position. It seems to have worked, they let go of the door knob and jump away almost immediately. I tighten the grip on my handgun and increase the concentration of my aim.

"S-Stay back..!" I said.

I curse under my breath. I quickly realize the virals will be rampaging to my location from the sound of my pistol very soon. So much for rational thinking.

"Wait!" He shouts.

"We're not here to hurt you. We're here to help."

I'm immediately aware of the word 'we,' emphasizing it in my head. So there's more than one person, I see.

His calm voice, along with his gentle tone, certainly helps validate his claim. I remain wary of him, though, and how many other people there were beyond the doorway.

I listen to the clink of my gun, ready to fire another bullet from a single, sensitive touch.

"How do I know you're not just bullshitting me..?" I said.

"Ugh, just hurry the hell up and come with us before any of those things discover us! There's more survivors at the safe zone!" A different voice exclaimed.

My body trembles slightly. There was somewhere safe, and with other survivors?

Their footsteps suddenly grow obscure. Within the quiet atmosphere, I hear the sound of rustling cloth being tugged from a person's collar. Their presence fades into the distance. From behind the door, in the middle of the halls, I could hear the abrupt sound of a hard slap. A cry of pain is emitted into the hallway.

"Ow! What the fuck?!" Said the impatient survivor.

"We're trying to help her, not back her into a corner..!" The calm survivor murmured.

"So?! She's not cooperating..!" The impatient survivor retorted.

"She has a god damn firearm in possession! We can get shot at any moment! Besides, no one likes getting yelled at..!"

If they were trying to whisper amongst themselves then they really suck at doing so. I could hear almost every word they were exchanging to each other, arguing like a married couple. As they continue complaining to each other, I sigh and slowly lower my weapon to my side. None of us have the time to think about whether or not we should be working together. After all, those things are outside waiting to get their hands on us, as a team or solo units.

I scratch my head whilst biting the inside of my mouth, remembering the sting of sinking my teeth into my bottom lip as I carefully grind around the swelled up area.

"Um..." I began. "Hey, guys?"

Their chattering stops and the hallway falls silent. I hesitate for a moment then continue.

"I'm going to assume you're listening." I said.

"Look, I guess we got off on the wrong foot. So, let's say I do believe what you're saying is true, then what?"

It remains silent for some time, until the calm survivor speaks up.

"...We'll all head back to the safe zone, where everyone else is waiting for us. My dad's there, too."

I hesitate again, but remember that thinking is now a luxury of the normal world that this one doesn't offer. Two second thoughts, as Bill always told us. I sigh quietly and remain alert with my gun at my side.

"I'm keeping my gun down. You can both come in..." I said aloud.

Dammit, Zoey, don't regret making this choice.

The door slowly creaks open, and enter one, two, three fearful, shaken-up survivors. I swallow my uneasiness and clench my handgun tightly in my hands, just enough to prevent an unintentional discharge.

They all have their hands up, showing no desire to fight. The first to enter wears a stony grimace. If I were to guess whose voice goes with who, he was most likely the calm survivor. His slightly tattered teal plaid shirt with rolled-up sleeves, blood-stained denim stretchy skinny jeans, and grimy black slip-on shoes show signs of having experience many casualties firsthand. His hair was a rosy brown mess, but can be seen to have once been styled as an average spiky comb up. His sandstone brown eyes glint with sadness and determination.

"Thank you..." He says quietly.

I nod then look over to his friends, and begin to analyze them. The one to his right scowls at me firmly. He looked a bit older by several years. His scruffy beard is covered in debris and dried up blood from who knows where. He wore navy coveralls that was half zipped and smeared in oil from top to bottom. A mechanic, perhaps?

The other survivor, who's looking down on at the floor, holds his arms close to his chest. His thumb is pressed against his lower lip. He was quiet, and seems to have a reserved behavior overall. Nothing too unique about him aside from his unusual silence, and a standard NPC's clothing choice.

The guy with the plaid shirt swings his hand down toward me. I flinch and swiftly raise my firearm. He quickly retreats and steps away.

"Whoa whoa whoa!" He said, his hands quivering in front of his body rapidly.

"I-I was just reaching out for a handshake! I didn't mean to-

"You can get to know me just fine from there." I said with implied caution.

He looks to me, carefully pondering what to say next.

"Of course, I'm sorry." He murmurs.

I obviously put his friends on edge as well, from the looks of it, what with them hunching themselves and preparing to bolt. The quiet one seems to be more frightened than the other two, shaking like a leaf.

"What's with him..?" I said, pointing my gun at mister mime.

The supposed leader of the group looks over his shoulder at the trembling guy. He turns back to me and speaks up.

"Henry? He..." He said, clearing his throat.

"He doesn't speak. He's mute."

Ah, well that makes sense, somewhat. So that leaves the possibility of the other voice I heard earlier from outside the room...

"You have to forgive my friends. They're a bit jumpy from all the zombies we had to kill to get here. Oh, and the guy you see to my right, that's Rick." Said the leader.

I look to Rick, and see he's still giving me the same intense scowl. He sighs with his eyes closed and gives a simple wave of his hand.

"Yeah, hey." He said with a brief exhale out his nose.

"Charmed." I said sarcastically.

"Don't be too hard on Rick here. Without him, I don't think Henry would've tagged along if it were just me." The plaid shirt leader chuckled.

"That's right. I don't know much, but I know enough." Said Rick, simultaneously signing the latter half of his sentence.

I raise an impressed brow.

"That's... pretty awesome you know sign language." I said sincerely.

"Well, when you come from a family with people that have hearing problems or giving you the eternal silent treatment, it's pretty useful to know a word or two." Said Rick.

I nod to Rick with fascination. "Cool." I grinned softly.

I clear my throat and turn my attention back to mister plaid shirt.

"And you are..?" I said squinting my eyes like I were focusing my sights at their leader.

"Oh, my name's Michael." He said, pointing to himself with a cheerful smile.

Oh..? For a second there I thought he could have-

"But most people call me Mike."

My eyes unconsciously grow wide from hearing that.

"And your name..?" Said Mike.

I stare blankly at them, mostly at Mike. It couldn't be...

I glance over at the journal I left beside the couch. I look back to Mike and his friends. It's impossible, there's just no way.

Mike looks to me confusingly.

"Um..." He said. "Hey, are you okay?"

"Mike..?" I mutter.

"Uh, yes?" Mike stammered.

"As in, Riley..."

It was if his whole world had crumbled from hearing me speak that name. His pupils dilate, and his eyes begin to grow more damp. Compulsively, with most of his might, he grabs me by the shoulders and stares into my eyes with a glum expression.

"How do you know that name?" Said Mike.

It was obvious from the look on his face. Asking me every question that's on his mind without having to say a single word. Where's Riley? Where's his mom? Are they safe? What happened to them?

I escape Mike's grasp and bury the side of my face against his chest, closing the gap between us.

"I'm sorry." I whimper.

I shake my head left and right, while wrapping my arms around his torso as I initiate a hug.

"I'm so sorry, I..." I said solemnly.

I take a few steps back to give Mike and me some space. I start to choke up, shocked from this miraculous encounter.

"I didn't expect to meet you so soon." I smiled glumly, sniffling after every other word.

"My," Said Mike. "My sister... my mom?"

His bottom lip quivers with an overwhelming sadness. I look down at the floor and shake my head.

"I don't know if I should..." I mumbled.

I remember the couch and what lies beside it, and walk over to Riley's journal and pick it up. I return to Mike with the journal and hand it to him.

"This may answer your questions." I said.

Mike takes the journal and begins to read it. It was safe to assume how he felt, however I couldn't say for sure since he walked away and over to the cracked open window next to the bloodied bed. He was engrossed in Riley's journal entries.

"Hey, Mike..!" Said Rick.

I snap my head to Rick and Henry. They were looking at the door, more specifically the noise that was coming from outside the halls. The two walk back and retreat to my position, and I raise my firearm toward the doorway.

More people to deal with?

A bead of sweat trickles down my face. I close one eye and concentrate on my aim with the other. My mind whirls in circles wondering who it could possibly be this time.

The sound of their footsteps grow quiet, but not because they stopped walking toward us, but simply because of whose footsteps they belonged to. My ears grow muffled with solace, only being able to hear a high pitched whistle. I couldn't believe my eyes. My gun drops to my waist, and my legs grow weak from its uncontrollable trembling. Tears start trickling down my cheeks the second I sprint to them. I make my way to them with open arms and hug the old man tightly around his waist. He caresses the back of my head and rests his chin on the top. I could hear him let out a big sigh of relief.

"Did you miss us?" Said Bill.

Yeah, I did.