Human's are worse than Zombie's

They are back.

I woke up early this morning and heard shouting. I woke Jon and Toby, and we headed downstairs. On our way down, we heard glass smash. Toby had grabbed the shotgun, Jon the rifle. We hopped down the now-destroyed staircase to the lobby. Someone was poking their head through. Jon ran up and shoved the barrel of the rifle into their face. The head quickly withdrew.

I stepped up to the door. The man who had stuck his face through the window was the guy missing his front tooth from yesterday. Now, after meeting me, it looked like he was missing both.

"Yes, gentlemen, can we help you?" I said lightheartedly.

"You prick!" The man went to grab me through the window but quickly reconsidered when he saw Toby aiming the shotgun at him.

"You won't pull the trigger," Tooth said.

"Why not try and step inside, then?" I asked.

He stood there and considered me for a moment.

A creak came from above us—Jenna was making her way down the stairs. Tooth saw her.

"Hello, darling. Why don't you come out here and meet a real man?"

Toby did not react well to this, stepping forward, but I brought my hand up to stop him.

"Look, we can have this pissing contest all day, but it's not going to change the fact that you are not coming in."

We locked eyes across the door. I could hear barking. Suddenly, Tooth stepped aside, and another member of the group appeared, holding two pit bulls by their collars.

"Let us in, or we send them in," he said slowly, his voice dripping with malice.

I didn't know what to do.

"Get upstairs," I whispered to Jon.

We began to walk away.

"Time's up."

The dogs were let loose, barreling towards the door. Jon aimed and shot, hitting one of the dogs. The second, however, got through. I stepped aside, and it missed me. I took a swing with my baton and missed.

The lobby was a small enclosed space—not the best place to fight a dog. Jon and Toby couldn't fire without risking hitting one of us.

A scream.

The dog had latched onto Jenna's leg. She was shaking it, but its grip was iron-tight. I ran over and booted the dog with my steel-toe-capped boots. I felt ribs crack. It flew across the room and hit the wall.

I snatched the rifle from Jon, ran to the door, and unloaded on the scum outside. The gun had a ten-round clip. I wasn't sure if I hit anyone, but they took off running, and there was blood on the floor.

I turned around. Jon and Toby were looking at Jenna's leg. I went to check on the dog. It was lying on its side, struggling to breathe, whimpering as I got closer. It wasn't the dog's fault—humans had taught it to do this. I stroked its head as I plunged my knife into its skull.

We carried Jenna upstairs and laid her down on a sofa. The wound was large and ragged. Jane came in and told us to get out of the way. We managed to stop the bleeding, and Jane cleaned the wound as best as she could. Toby stayed with her while Jon and I went back downstairs to clean up the mess, using some old wooden panels to fix the window.

"Told you she would come in handy," I said to Jon as he hammered the last panel into place.

He grunted.

Jane was allowed to stay by the group unanimously in the end. Jon was the last to agree, but he had agreed.

Jane had instantly started helping, keeping the room we had quarantined her in as her own. She started helping with the washing and cooking, and in the last week since the vote, she had drawn up a fitness regime for all of us—mainly cardio, so we could outrun the dead.

We finished barricading the door and headed upstairs. Jon would wait on the first floor with the rifle, just in case they decided to come back.

When I got upstairs, Sky was waiting for me.

"Tom, come look at my drawing!"

"In a sec, I need to check on Jenna."

"Is she OK?" Concern grew in her voice.

"I'm sure she'll be fine. Why don't you go pick out the pictures you want me to see first?"

She smiled and ran off.

6 PM

Jenna is not doing too well. She has a high fever, and the wound looks infected.

10 AM

No improvement in Jenna. Fever is still high.

11 AM

We have made a difficult choice. Someone has to go to the hospital to get antibiotics. This is dangerous—not only because it's a hospital full of undead but also because Tooth and his gang could reappear while we're gone.

So, we need to send a weaker team to the hospital.

I have to go—I know where everything is. Jon is also coming. He has been teaching Jane and Toby how to use the weapons better, without expending ammo, of course.

Before we left, I spent time with Sky looking at her pictures. She drew one of her house—her mom, dad, and me. She even got the bad haircut down perfectly. We were all standing outside in the garden. No zombies around, no nothing. The sun was even smiling.

I put them up on the wall and gave her some math and history homework to do while I was out—because I'm mean like that. She pulled a face but got started.

Jon and Toby were waiting for me on the first floor.

"Don't worry, dude, we got this," I said, throwing a bat to Jon.

"If you don't come back with the stuff, I'm kicking your ass," he said.

Jon and I headed down and out the door into an undead world.

1 PM

We arrived at the hospital.

We headed into the underground parking area. We elected to walk due to the possibility of cars blocking the way. We encountered large numbers of undead, but they were avoided.

The door to the parking area slammed shut behind us.

We started to walk through.

"So, where are we heading?" Jon asked.

"We need to go through here, up a flight of stairs, jump the pharmacy counter, and find antibiotics. Then, straight back out. Simple, right?"

Not a second after I finished that sentence, the moans began.

Hundreds of undead started piling down the ramp we had just walked past.

"Fuck! Run to the door on the far side!"

We got to the large door and pulled it open. The card readers didn't seem to be active, but the place still had power.

We ran down the corridor and up the flight of stairs, where I had previously taken a tumble with a zombie.

We reached the top of the stairs and saw the pharmacy. We hurdled the counter. One was waiting on the other side. I pulled out the crowbar I got from Tooth and jammed it into its eye socket. It dropped.

We rummaged through the shelves, looking for what we needed. We had printed off a list of various antibiotics and memorized them on the trek over.

"Got it!" Jon said.

"Awesome! Now grab what you can, and let's get the fuck out. I don't want to come back here again."

We filled our bags and moved to jump the counter.

What we had failed to notice was a mini-sea of undead now surrounding the pharmacy front. I pulled down the security screen to stop them from climbing over.

Jon headed to a door in the back. He pulled it open, and a pair of undead arms shot out, grasping for us. Jon slammed his weight against the door. I ran over and managed to smack the arms back with the baton. The door closed and locked.

I looked up at the ceiling—way out of my reach to climb.

Undead at the front and the back.

We were trapped.