But I didn’t. I didn’t think about it. I didn’t have to. It was instinct. Pure, primal instinct. When Chuck and the others knocked on the door a moment later, I forgot all about Alyssa and Annie all of the things that had gone wrong in my life, and went right back to doing what I had to do to survive.
FOUR
“Pete?”
I held my breath. My heart pounded in my throat and I heard my blood rushing through my ears.
“Open up, Pete.”
It was Chuck. I recognized his voice, even through the thick walls. The door clanged as something hard and metallic was rapped against it. The sound repeated once. Twice. Then Chuck called out again.
“We know you’re in there, Pete. Come on out.”
I didn’t say anything. I scrambled to my feet and quietly moved away from the door. I clenched my fists so hard that my fingernails dug deep into my palms.
The knocking returned, this time faster and with more force. It stopped suddenly, followed by a muffled, angry curse.
“Come on, Pete. It doesn’t have to be this way. We can talk about it if you want. I don’t know what Drew told you, but—”
“Save it, Chuck.” My eyes widened in surprise. I hadn’t meant to speak out loud. Then, deciding the damage had already been done, I continued. “Drew told me exactly what’s going on. Even if he hadn’t, Krantz sure as fuck verified it for me. Have you lost your goddamned mind?”
“Me?” Chuck sounded genuinely offended. “You’re the one whose lost his mind, Pete. You killed Krantz.”
“Only because he would have killed me. It was self defense.”
“That’s not true,” someone else shouted. I couldn’t tell who they were for sure. A male, certainly, but the speaker could have been one of many people.
“Shut up,” Chuck told the other person, loud enough that I could hear him through the door. There was a moment of silence and then Chuck spoke again. His tone had changed, his voice now tinged with anger and annoyance. I was messing up his plans. I wasn’t going along with the group vote. I was making him look bad in front of the others. The thought made me grin.
“Let’s face facts here, Pete. You’re unarmed and alone and trapped in there with no other way out. There’s more of us than there are of you. It’s over. You know that. Face it like a man. Come on out.”
“Fuck you. I’m staying right here.”
“Pete, you—”
“Did I stutter, Chuck? Go fuck yourself.”
“I know it’s not easy, but you need to face facts. None of us likes this. You think we’re animals or something? Of course we aren’t. We didn’t come down here just to turn into cannibals, man. But that’s the hand we’ve been dealt. If it’s any consolation, I didn’t want it to go down this way. Drew sort of ruined everything by telling you. I swear, we meant to take you in your sleep. You wouldn’t have felt a thing. You wouldn’t have even known.”
“That’s very kind of you.” I said it loud enough so that he could hear me through the door, hoping to distract him and keep him talking long enough for me to escape. Chuck was right about one thing. I was outnumbered and overwhelmed. I didn’t know how many people he had out there with him, but even if it was just three of them, I’d have a problem defending myself in this small space, with only a fire extinguisher and my fists to use as weapons. Hunger had physically weakened all of us, but three against one was bad odds no matter how strong a person was.
“We’re coming in now,” Chuck said. “My advice to you is to not fight it. You’ll only make things harder on yourself. I give you my word that this can happen peacefully. You won’t even be aware of it. We’ve got enough painkillers and stuff that you can still go in your sleep. We can knock you out. But if you want to go hard, Pete, then so be it.”
“Come on in,” I challenged, raising my eyes toward the ductwork above me. “See what happens.”
There was another brief pause and then the iron bar wiggled as they tried to open the door from the other side. My blockade held fast. The door didn’t budge. It thudded as something was forced against it from the other side. Then I heard somebody groan as if in pain.
“It’s locked, and now I hurt my damned shoulder.”
I recognized this speaker as a man named Phillips. I didn’t know much about him, other than he had been a sales rep for some kind of foam insulation company, and he’d been here on vacation when the zombies attacked. His wife and kids had apparently been topside when the zombies attacked, and hadn’t made it down into the bunker with him, but Phillips had never seemed too upset about that. I hadn’t liked him very much to begin with, and the fact that he was now intent on joining in with the others to murder and eat me didn’t improve my disposition toward him.
“Try it again,” Chuck ordered.
The iron bar rattled as they hammered on the door, but once more held fast. Blows resounded through the small room as they hit the door faster and harder. Their curses grew louder. I heard Chuck tell someone to get the cutting torch. Two acetylene torches had been left down here by a maintenance crew before the siege. We’d held onto them, like everything else in the bunker. Drew had mentioned at the time that we could always use them to cut our way out of the bunker, should the blast doors become inoperable. I’d had my doubts about that. The cutting torches weren’t powerful enough to cut through twelve feet of solid steel.
The blows on the door intensified. Then they suddenly ceased. I heard the sound of squeaking wheels, like a cart being hauled down the hallway. Then another man shouted. I recognized the voice as that of Jim Mars, one of the many who had urged me not to wait for Mike when this whole thing started and the zombies attacked. I’d liked him up until now. He’d been kind and soft-spoken and talked a lot about his wife and kids and how he hoped they were still alive. When we’d started to run low on food, Mars had always been willing to share his with others. He’d joked that he needed to lose weight anyway. Apparently, he’d since changed his mind about that, seeing as how he was with Chuck and the rest of the group on the other side of the door.
“Here,” he yelled. “I’ve got the torch!”
“Fire it up,” Chuck said. I’m certain he raised his voice so that I’d hear him.
Trying to move as quietly as possible, I opened the incinerator door and peered inside. The interior was full of ashes and darkness, and smelled heavy. There was no other way to describe it—just a thick, weighty odor. I stuck my head inside and gazed up into the shadows. At the top was the drop chute which led to the shower room one floor above us. Designed so that survivors of a nuclear war could dispose of their irradiated clothing, it was now my best—and probably only—chance at escape.
I hunched down and climbed inside the incinerator. It was big enough inside for me to crouch on my hands and knees, but doing so stirred up clouds of swirling dust, which got into my throat and sinuses. I wondered how much of it was the ashes of the people we’d burned in there. Was I inhaling Annie? Coughing, I made my way toward the chute. Something crunched under my feet. I looked down and saw that it was a half-charred bone. I wondered whose it had been. Outside, I heard the hiss of an acetylene torch being lit, and moments later, the room began to fill with the stench of scorched metal. It was strong enough that I could smell it over the odor of the incinerator. I reached out, grabbed the incinerator door, and pulled it shut behind me.
“Won’t be long now, Pete,” Chuck hollered. His voice was muffled. “You’ll be sorry you made us do this.”
“Not half as sorry as you’re going to be.”
Even though I’d whispered, my voice seemed to echo in the shaft. I pressed my back against one wall and my knees against the other, and then wriggled up the chute like a snake, hoping that there was nobody waiting for me on the other side. I moved quickly but as quietly as possible, fearful that Chuck and the others would hear me through the ductwork and discover what I was doing, despite the noise they were making. The inside of the shaft was black with soot, and I focused on breathing through my mouth, choking off sneezes that would have certainly given away my position. My eyes watered and my throat felt raw and scratchy. My breath began to sound harsh and loud, and I wondered if they could hear it echoing through the shaft. The chute narrowed and the walls began to feel like they were closing in on me. Sweat beaded on my forehead and cheeks, and stung my eyes. I tried blinking it away, but to no avail. My eyes watered and my vision blurred. The cloying smell from the cutting torch grew stronger, even inside the shaft. My muscles began to cramp, but I pushed on, determined to get away.