Keary Taylor: The Ashes

“Not sure exactly,” my companion says. “I saw something on the news before all this, something about zombies, I thought. Didn’t pay attention cause I thought it was a joke or something, you know? Haven’t you heard anything?”

“No,” I say simply, my jaw tightening.

“Oh, right,” he says, barely glancing back at me. “D block. Segregation.”

“There was someone else,” I say as we turn left down a hall. “Gave me food, kept me from starving. I think it must have been a guard since he opened the doors. But he said not to touch anyone. You know anything about that?”

He shakes his head. “Nope, but by the looks of this place, I think it’s safe to assume that’s sound advice.”

And I see a body. It’s lying across a table on its back. It’s staring at me, its eyes wide open. But they don’t look right.

“Yeah, I’d say that’s probably some pretty good advice,” he says as we pause.

The inmate’s eyes are metallic, with ridges that shouldn’t be there, its iris an opal-looking color, all shimmery in the wrong ways.

There’s nothing human about those eyes.

“Come on,” I say, glancing back once more at the body. “Let’s get out of here.”

“You think it was some kind of disease?” the guy says. “Think that’s what happened to the guards? There was some kind of outbreak and so they took off?”

“I don’t know,” I say and shake my head. All I’m thinking is that I need a way to defend myself.

We start checking doors and offices. I see a sign that says “Warden” and duck inside.

We find three handguns in a drawer and a small handful of ammunition.

“Keep this one,” my companion says as we both look at the extra. “I’m in for fraud. I’m not exactly the type who knows how to use this thing.”

I can’t blame him for assuming I know how to use a weapon. Fraud did find me in the SHU.

I take the extra ammo and slip it into my pocket after making sure both firearms are fully loaded.

We hear the sound of movement outside the office.

“Who’s there?” I shout, leveling both firearms. I haven’t handled a weapon in seven years, but it all comes back in an instant. Just like riding a bike.

No one replies, but I hear the sound of feet coming closer.

I pause for a moment when I see something on the warden’s desk. There’s a letter. And it has my name on it.

I grab it and tuck it into my back pocket.

“Come on,” Fraud says, a hint of fear creeping into his voice. “Let’s just get out of here.”

I nod, my eyes still on the door.

I peek around the corner before we exit. No sign of whomever, or maybe what ever else is out there. But I can still hear it, just around the corner.

“Medical’s this way,” Fraud says as we turn a corner.

At the sound of his voice, our pursuer seems to catch onto our location. Feet pound against the gray pavement underfoot.

“Move it!” I yell, shoving my companion from behind.

The sound of feet keeps getting closer as we dodge down halls and around corners trying to shake it off. It disturbs me that I don’t hear anything else. No hard breathing. No one shouting at us. Only the sound of running.

I dare a glance back. There is a man in a doctor’s white lab coat chasing us. His eyes gleam.

I suddenly stumble, something soft and lumpy bringing me down to the ground. I’ve tripped over Fraud, taken down by all the debris on the floor. We roll in a tangled heap for a moment and I know that thing following us is going to catch us.

Grabbing the guns that have fallen from my hands, I turn to take aim. But I stop. The crazed doctor has his hand around Fraud’s throat, lifting him a good six inches off the ground.

I consider running for a moment. Medical is right behind me. I could make it. I could finally get out of here and be free.

But instead, I take aim and squeeze the trigger.

The doctor instantly drops my companion, his hand a bloody mess from my shot. His eyes turn on me and without hesitating I shoot again. Exactly where I aim. Right between the eyes.

It drops to the ground in a heap.

“Come on,” I say, looking at Fraud as he places his own hands around his throat, coughing violently.

Don’t let anyone touch you. That’s what the guard had said. His warning echoes in the back of my head as I watch Fraud stumble through the door into Medical receiving.

“You okay?” I ask as I look around for the exit. It isn’t difficult to find.

“Yeah,” he replies, his voice scratchy.

I push the door open and step out into the blinding light. We stumble toward the Sally Port, through the open gate, and past the razor-wire fences and into a parking lot. I check the abandoned cars but of course none of them have keys inside.

“What now?” Fraud says, looking at our surroundings.

“Hit the deck!” I bellow, raising the handgun. The man behind Fraud drops to the ground in a heap of gray prison clothes. His inhuman eyes don’t even close when he falls dead.

“Thanks,” Fraud says, looking up at me with wide, terrified eyes as he stands.

“Come on,” I say and take off into the trees that surround us. My hands and insides shake from exhaustion. I dig into my plastic bag and start in on the last of the food.

I’ve always had a good sense of direction and as we move through the trees I’m sure we’re headed the right way. I decide to keep to the wooded areas. They feel safer than traveling on the road, especially considering our attire.

“Where we headed?” Fraud asks. He struggles to keep up with me. He’s small. The type that doesn’t usually last long on the inside, not without having to give up some of his pride and humanity.

“My aunt lives not far from here,” I say, checking my back pocket to make sure the letter is still there. “I’ve got to check on her. Maybe get some supplies there.”

“Supplies to go where?” Fraud says. He seems to catch a second wind and his pace picks up. He isn’t breathing so hard now. “And won’t she be freaked out when you just show up on her doorstep?”

I don’t respond because I do not have an answer.

I get a bit of energy back as the food hits my system and we jog through the trees for a good hour and a half before we come to a highway that cuts through the trees. I slow my approach, crouching behind a tree on the edge of the road. Carefully glancing around it, I look both directions.

There is a police car about two hundred yards to the west. It’s parked in the middle of the road, as if it was blocking off anyone from going into the city. Its lights are flashing but the siren is silent. The driver’s door is hanging wide open. I watch it motionless for a full minute but don’t see any activity. It looks as if the vehicle has been abandoned.

The entire highway is empty.

“I don’t think there’s anyone out there,” I whisper. My hands tighten around my firearm. “We’re going to have to cross this road, then travel parallel to it for about an hour. We should reach my aunt’s house in about two.”

I notice then how deathly quiet Fraud has been since we approached the road. I glance back at him, only to do a double take.

He’s staring straight at me, but he has this glazed over look. He’s blinking rapidly, almost as if he’s trying to clear something from his head.

Or maybe the metallic veins that are spreading in his left eye.

I curse under my breath and shift my aim between his changing eyes.

“You okay there?” I ask, already knowing the answer.

Don’t let anyone touch you.

“I…” he stutters. “I…don’t…”

A twitch starts above that left eye. Within ten seconds it works its way down his left arm and soon his fingers are moving rapidly, flexing and twitching.