Chapter 8 – Recuperation

“Down here,” the female said, motioning towards the stairs. Ossy wordlessly followed the older woman through the maze of pathways in the news building, now heading down a small set of stairs – more like steps, in reality. This constant moving was starting to get on her nerves, but she had to give the woman credit. They hadn’t seen a zombie in sight, and they were the only ones to take this specific pathway.

“Is there any way we can go back?” she wondered aloud. “Gingy was left behind...”

“And face those monsters again? No, thank you,” she easily replied as she continued to lead the pair.

A few more doors and endless halls. “We’re almost there,” the woman reassured, calming Ossy’s nervousness. She could see some clear doors in the distance, the darkness piercing through. They reached the end of the hall and the woman opened up the door in a courteous manner, offering the blue haired girl to go first.

“Where are we?” Ossy asked as they entered an area radically different from the halls they traversed moments ago.

“Underground parking lot,” was the response. “It’s dark, but if we feel our way, we can get to the surface.”

“Won’t there be zombies out there?”

“You’d rather take your chances back inside the building?” was the cynical response. “I’ve got my car parked near the surface. If we can get there, we’re set. We may even have time to look for that guy you keep mentioning.” She began to feel her way along the wall as she walked began the uphill trek. Ossy followed close behind.

-

The waves of hysterical people running through the halls prevented Gingy from gaining a sense of position. If it wasn’t a random person bumping into him and throwing him off balance, it was a running zombie. Dried blood smearing their lips from an old meal, they hunted the crazed crowd looking to make a new one. An infected was coming from Gingy’s right, and another further down to the left. A boxer’s position automatically assumed itself, as he swung a left hook before the formerly-human could make her approach. She hit the wall violently as her body crumpled to the floor, temporarily stunned. Gingy then swerved his body to the right to avoid the clawing of the second zombie, throwing a heated flurry of jabs to knock the zombie backwards.

There was no one else in the hallway in front of him – spending time fighting the hoard left him as the last one running, and the number of zombies were only growing. Gingy was sensible to know when his fists were better lowered; he soon turned heel and made a bolt down the hall. The ravenous sounds of hungering undead trailed him relentlessly as he ran endlessly, desperate for an exit. The hallway he ran down split into two on either side of him. Deciding quickly, he sharply turned left at the turning point and ran with all his might. The reverent stomping of feet followed his every move, alongside heavy crashes as a few zombies ran too quickly and slammed violently against the wall. Pained moans began to grow – walking zombies were also littered among their numbers.

Numerous doors lined the two walls surrounding Gingy as he continued to run. Certainly, some people would be hiding in a few – but he didn’t have the luxury to check. One locked door was wasted time, and every second counted. Another turn in the pathway came up and he smoothly followed, blindly moving wherever the halls let him. Abruptly, the door down the hall from him began to close. Someone had just escaped in there; it was his chance to make it in as well before they locked it. Moving his legs even faster than before - cranking into fifth gear - he reached the door before it could be sealed and, not realizing his own strength, almost broke the door when he forced himself in.

“Holy-” the rest of the man’s statement phased out of Gingy’s head as the boxer grabbed the handle and slammed the door shut, turning every lock – there were surprisingly three – which he could find. He whipped his body around to realize his surroundings. There were four men and two females in the relatively small room, filled with a myriad of filming tools and sets for newscasts. Moving only a step forward, he grabbed the nearest wheeled tripod and used it to block the thumping door. His orders were as sharp as they were immediate.

“Get everything in this room and barricade the door with it! Hurry before they break it down and get in!” Some were stunned in the moment. The two women moved immediately, gathering every object they could find and placed it in front of the door. Soon after that, the other three men followed; but one gave Gingy a glare full of malice.

“Y-you! You ruined it for us! They’re coming after us because you tipped them off!” He curled his hand into a fist as he moved in closer. “If we toss you back out there, they’ll stop going after me!” His nearing stride transitioned into a dash as he made a wild swing towards the head area.

Gingy grunted irritatingly as he easily dodged the man’s telegraphed, unrefined punch. “We don’t have time to be fighting!” he nearly shouted towards his antagonist. His words fell on deaf ears as the man went for another swing, changing his first attack into a fast backhand. As Gingy quickly ducked to avoid it, irritation began to line the boxer’s face. “Would you just listen?” he yelled, but the man was already preparing a head-on punch towards Gingy’s face. Swiftly, he blocked with his forearm , directing the opposing fist away from his body. Just as quickly he wrapped his free arm around his attacker’s, pulling his opponent’s body towards him. The move was reminiscent of a martial arts form; through it, the man realized that he had picked the wrong person to fight with.

“Try that again, and next time I’ll hit back.”

The man slowly nodded and the boxer released his hold. The door started smashing against its locks as the zombies slammed harder, intending to force their way in. The other survivors in the room desperately looked for anything they could put against the collapsing door, while Gingy hastily analyzed the area.

‘Isn’t there anything we can use to escape?’ he angrily demanded in thought. Nothing close to what he would call a weapon in the room, and no doors or windows. Assuming that this was a filming room from all of the lights and cameras, he’d be damned if employees could work in such a hot room for such a long time.

Wait. That was it. There weren’t any windows or doors, so they had to have a way to ventilate the room. A small panel on the ground wouldn’t deliver enough air. There had to be some kind of vent...

Looking upwards, he scanned all of the walls for any metallic panels. Nothing...he couldn’t believe it. There had to be some way out.

The banging increased. A few cracks were heard from the door’s hinges which started to give way. One of the men in the room approached him. “There’s nothing else we can put against the doors! What do we do now?” When Gingy didn’t respond, the man’s face changed to one of confusion. “What are you looking for?” he asked.

“An air vent,” was the simple answer.

“Behind you, genius.”

Whipping his neck and almost spraining speeds, the boxer realized that the cynical man was right. He was so focused on looking for it in front of him that he forgot that the room had four sides. The vent was large, easily big enough for a man to fit through. The method of escape was cliché to some, but a miracle to him. He was so relieved at seeing the duct that he didn’t think about man’s insult. “Two of you, come lift me up!”

“But how are-”

“We don’t have time for questions! Every second counts!” Gingy didn’t even notice himself snapping, the stress of the moment building. The two men shut their mouths and did as they were told, hoisting the survivor onto their shoulders and keeping him stable. Slowly, the duo rose to their feet and brought Gingy level to the metal plating over the air vent. One of the women voiced her worries. “How are you going to get it off? We don’t have a screwdri-“

The blunt, low noise of metal breaking off cut her sentence as Gingy rubbed his right fist. He had just broken the panel open with a punch.

“Ow,” he mumbled to himself as continued rubbing his sore hand. Everyone was silent with amazement. Placing his hands on either side of the vent, he pulled himself in. “Don’t cut yourself on the edges,” he said aloud. Not pausing for the others, he crawled through the narrow space. Before the two men could begin to climb themselves, one of the females jumped on top of them and used the two as a ladder to get in. “Ladies first!” She sweetly said with a hurried undertone.

The door burst open as the barrier was knocked off its hinges. The hungering infected pushed and shoved each other in a massive tangled heap, trying to get past each other and the camera debris that blocked them. The second woman tried to follow the previous one but was quickly shoved aside by the man that picked a fight with Gingy. “Move over! I’ll be damned if I let those things get me!” Grabbing a chair from the blockade holding back the zombies, he made a surprising leap and grabbed the edges of the vent, slowly making his way in. “I-I can’t fit!” he angrily stuttered as he attempted forcing his body through, but his large size wouldn’t allow it. One of the remaining men shouted in rage. “Stop playing around! We need to get out of here!”

“I’m not playing aro-” the large man’s voice was cut off as he heard the loud sound of materials falling. The camera equipment stacked at the front fell apart as the oncoming hoard gathered their composure and struck. Squealing in terror, the female ran into the corner of the room, her noise instantly alerting the pathogenic monstrosities – they targeted her as their first meal. She didn’t stand a chance as a pack of three leapt upon her quivering frame and sank their stained teeth into her flesh. A duo of two infected attacked the pair of men, who put up a decent fight before being overcome by the growing numbers of undead. They got a few punches and kicks in, but the zombie’s superior endurance and durability allowed them to shrug off the blows and go in for the kill. Fearing for his life with tears streaming down his eyes, the last soon-to-be-dead survivor tried even harder to fit himself through the vent to no avail.

“No! Not me! I don’t want to die!” he cried out. His upper body still in the vent, he shouted at the fading figures of Gingy and the accompanying woman. “Help me! Please! I’ll do anything...!”

They never responded to his pleas. As more infected came into the room, some began to bite into his legs. All that the man saw then was the infinite darkness of the vents...

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