With the machete broken and gone, I walk forward and lift my pistol in front of me, taking careful aim at the first greyskin’s head. It drops to the floor. The others start to come at me a little more quickly. I’ve got to be quick. I let off three more rounds, three more greyskins fall.
Boom! Boom! Boom! Three more fall on top of the pile. The shots make the ringing in my ears worse and I know its only a matter of seconds before more come out to investigate. I shoot the next two, but hit the last one at the neck. No good. I pull the trigger but this time there is only the sound of an empty magazine. I curse and let the magazine drop as I reach into the side pocket of the backpack. The doors behind me crash open and the greyskin in front of me is getting closer. My fingers fumble with the loaded magazine and I almost drop it. I jam it up into the gun and pull back on the chamber. I fire at the greyskin in front of me, hitting it in the chest. Another shot finds its mark right in the forehead.
The greyskins behind me are moving fast. I jump over the pile of bodies and sprint to the stairwell. I take the steps four at a time, knowing that it’s never a good idea to be so careless. I could run into a greyskin, sprain an ankle…either one could be the end of me. I finally make it to the first floor and I can feel my heart beating quickly, my escape now within reach.
I open the door, rush into the hallway, and I instantly wish that I didn’t. I have no idea how many greyskins I see to my left rushing toward me. There have to be at least twenty or thirty, and there are even more blocking my exit. I run back through the door onto the stairwell and slam the door shut. I immediately feel the push of greyskins against it. I can see the rotting faces of them through the narrow window in the middle. Their black eyes are lifeless, but their teeth are black, yellow, and sharp. Their hands beat against the door and I know that soon I won’t be able to hold them back.
A hand breaks through the window, not flinching from the glass that slices its skin with drooling black blood. With my shoulder pressed firmly against the door, I pull up the pistol and begin firing through the opening. I feel some relief from the pushing for a few seconds, but it has bought me no time and there is no chance I will be able to hold the door for much longer. As I lean against the door and survey the stairwell in front of me, I try to think of where I could go, another exit I could take out of here.
Another thump against the door and the shoving begins again. I sit my butt on the ground and try to stay as firm as a rock, but my weight won’t be enough to hold the door closed for very long. I’m too distracted to listen to my surroundings, but the crashing door up above me is loud enough for anyone to hear. The sound of hurried footsteps and hungry groans echo off the walls as the greyskins begin their descent down the stairs toward me.
This is it, I think. I took a chance and I lost. I’m fulfilling my death sentence from Crestwood.
My pistol is empty so I swing my rifle in front of me and hold it as steady as I can with my back shoved against the door. As I try to listen, I think I can hear five or more coming for me, but does it matter? I’ll waste my bullets on these and then I will be empty-handed. With no weapon, I have no defense, and every greyskin in the building senses my presence. I hold a firm grip on the rifle and fire a shot at the first greyskin I see. It falls to the bottom of the steps only a foot in front of me, but it is followed by six more.
I take a deep breath as a tear slides down the side of my cheek — the first time I’ve cried since…
I fire all but one of my bullets into the six and they all crumple to the floor. More will come down or up the stairs, it won’t matter. Anywhere I try to go, I will only find more greyskins, and one bullet means I might as well have nothing. The pushing against the door is getting heavier. I can’t imagine the death they will give me. I can’t think of what it feels like to have their teeth and nails sink into my skin, ripping away muscles and crunching on my bones.
I look down at my rifle, knowing that a single bullet remains. I know it will only take a slight movement. I won’t feel any pain. Sure, the greyskins will have my body, but I won’t know it. I won’t turn into one of them. I no longer have a giant pit in my stomach consuming me. Now, I feel a wave of relief, knowing that I don’t have to be one of them, that I don’t have to feel fear anymore.
The final bullet will take me away from here. Here is hell on earth. Here is pain and suffering.
Anywhere but here.
I turn the gun around and hold the barrel, the end resting under my chin. It feels hot, but I don’t have time to worry about such a trivial problem. I rest the stock on the floor and extend my arm so my thumb can slide over the trigger.
Another tear streaks down the side of my face as a hold the door closed, my thumb beginning to press down.
Anywhere but here. This life is too much anyway. This world is hopeless. My last bullet… It can take me anywhere but here.
The door swings in a few inches and the rifle falls to the floor. I’m forced to use my hands and feet to push as hard as I can.
I just need a second!
I hold myself against the door as I reach down and pull up the rifle again. The barrel is cooler this time when the skin under my jaw presses against the metal. My thumb finds the trigger again.
Can I do this to myself? I didn’t come here ready to die.
I close my eyes to embrace the bullet. Anywhere but here.
Boom!
The shot is deafening, but I feel no heat, no pain, just as I expected. However, I am still very conscious. How?
Boom! Boom! Boom!
The door becomes still as the greyskins stop pushing against it. My eyes travel to the trigger and I realize that I haven’t even attempted to pull it. I set the gun on the ground and sit on my knees, staring through the broken glass in the door. There are at least five men, raiders probably. No doubt they heard my shots and came running in here to see what I’ve looted.
They will be sorely disappointed.
My heart is pounding as I watch them take out the entire first floor of greyskins with such grace as though they did this every day. I suddenly realize that they are going to find me, so I might as well let them know I am here without them mistaking me as a greyskin.
“Help!” I yell out. I set my gun on the ground and raise my hands in the air. I can hear the footsteps of greyskins both coming up and down the stairs. “Help!” I yell out again.
The door in front of me swings open and two men burst through. “Get on the floor!” the first one yells. I lie flat and press my cheek against the cold floor as more shots ring out and they blow the heads off the greyskins coming up and down the stairs.
I was about to kill myself. I wonder if I should have done it anyway. I don’t know who these men are. Would it have been better to kill myself than to be raped and then killed by these strangers? I took a chance, and now I’m going to have to live with the consequences. I just hope I don’t live to regret my decision.
The two men pull me up by my coat and force me into the hallway. The bodies of greyskins lie everywhere and I quickly remember what it used to be like to travel with a group. In a group, I could have gotten to the medical records more easily.
They pull me to the front of the hospital until they set me on my knees just in front of the sliding doors. I count all the people around me. There are five men and two women. One of the men stands at the center. He only carries a pistol in a holster on his belt. He has a thick, black beard and olive skin. His brown eyes stare into me like he’s never come across another person before.