Kyle West - Apocalypse

I reached down and nudged her.

“What?” she asked, voice thick with sleep.

“I can’t let you sleep there.”

Khloe wiped her eyes. “Don’t be stupid. You need to sleep.”

“So do you. There’s room for you here.”

She stood up. Her face was tender as her eyes gazed into mine.

I was on the verge of tears as I recalled the events of the day. I put my hands to her beautiful face, letting them slide down her neck and rest on her shoulders. She lay down in front of me as I pulled her closer. We stared into each other’s eyes.

I closed my eyes and wrapped my arms around her, drawing her close, enjoying her warmth, feeling her heartbeat.

“I feel like you’re all I have, now,” I said.

Khloe didn’t say anything for a while. “I was so sad when I lost my sister. We fought so much, and I lost her. I still feel guilty about it. I wish I didn’t have to. I think that’s part of being human, though. We wish we could control things, but we can’t. It’s always too late.”

I opened my eyes. Khloe was looking at me.

“Not always,” I said.

I leaned forward to kiss her, her lips soft and warm. She kissed me back tenderly, healingly.

She was all I had, now. I didn’t ever want to let go and feel the emptiness again.

We fell asleep in each other’s arms. For one moment, everything was almost okay.

I was on the edge of consciousness when the wailing of klaxons shocked me awake. Red light bathed the room. I shot up in bed, Khloe’s hand latching onto my arm like a vise.

The siren screamed, over and over, fading in and out.

“What’s happening?” Khloe asked.

“I don’t know. Where are your parents?”

“They’re on nightshift at the lab.”

By lab, Khloe meant the hydroponics lab – the largest room in the Bunker. It was located in the subbasement, near the generators. It was where all the food was grown.

I pulled on my hoodie. The siren, coupled with the red light, made me feel like I was living in a surreal nightmare. Maybe I was.

“Let’s go into the other room,” I said.

We got up and went to the living room. We stood by the intercom. In the event of an alarm, it was what we were supposed to do. But no reassuring voice came. Maybe it would never come.

My father…what if something had happened? What if he had gone haywire, like the man Chan had shot down?

Khloe looked at me, searching my eyes.

“My father is dead,” I said. “He is dead.”

“How do you know? Maybe…”

“What else could it be? My father, Chan, the others…they got out of the med bay, somehow. And if it’s anything like the patient, then we’re all in a lot of trouble.”

Khloe grabbed my hand. “You’re right. We have to go.”

“Go where?”

“Out.”

“Outside?”

Then, I heard screams. A gunshot. A snarl. A body falling, outside our door to the corridor. I felt coldness creep over me.

Something was out there.

I could not deal with this. Not now.

I looked madly for something that could be used as a weapon. A lamp. A large book.

A skillet in the kitchen.

I ran to get it as the door slammed open. I stared up. It was an officer, hairless, his eyes wild and completely white. For a moment, I froze in my tracks. Two lacerations split his face open, where someone had slashed him with a knife. He stumbled forward, toward Khloe.

Khloe screamed. But instead of cowering as I might have done, she ran toward him, pushing him back outside. The attacker growled, and went for her again.

Skillet in hand, I charged the officer. Khloe screamed again, pushing on the man’s shoulders. His mouth snapped viciously toward her neck. She punched him in the face. I clobbered the officer’s head with the skillet. He fell to the ground, and I smashed his head in, again and again. His eyelids fluttered, then stilled, revealing completely white orbs. Purplish blood oozed from his mouth.

That’s when I noticed his body quivering and bloating.

“Run!”

We ran past the man and into the corridor. I slammed the door shut. Just in time, because I heard a sickening pop. As I held the door closed, I felt it vibrate as it was splattered with goo from the other side.

We paused for a moment to collect our breaths.

“What is going on?” Khloe asked.

I looked down, noticing the officer had dropped a handgun by the door. I grabbed it, checking the magazine for bullets. There were four left.

“Like you said. We’re leaving.”

“What about my parents? We need to get to the hydroponics lab.”

“We’ve got to go there now,” I said. “Take this. You might need it.”

I handed Khloe the skillet. She took it with wide eyes.

She led the way. I followed her through the empty hall, my gun at the ready. The wailing sirens and lights bathed the floor in eerie red.

We turned the corner and found a body, already ruptured. Purple goop dripped from the ceiling. A line of slime fell, missing my face by a hair.

“Watch the ceiling,” I said. “Any of that stuff gets inside of you, you’re done.”

Khloe nodded, shaky.

We entered the commons. The room was empty, but I heard voices and the sounds of a struggle coming from a hallway leading from the other side. Several dead bodies lay on the floor, mutilated. I recognized the corpse of one of my classmates, Vincent Corley. He had been athletic, smart, and popular.

Now, his right arm was completely ripped off.

“Vincent…” Khloe said.

Then, gunshots sounded in the distance, followed by bloodcurdling screams and inhuman wails. They were coming from the direction of the Caf.

“We can’t go that way,” I said.

“There are stairs nearby,” Khloe said. “Follow me.”

We went down two flights, to the lowest level in the Bunker. After the first flight, we heard someone’s raspy breath just a few feet away. I did not know if they were one of the infected, or just injured. Either way, we didn’t stay to find out. We quietly descended the second flight without his or her knowing.

We were now in front of the door that led into the hydroponics lab. We entered, finding ourselves among aisles and aisles of plants bearing enough fruits and vegetables to sustain several hundred people year-round. Unlike the rest of the Bunker, this room, if it could be so called because it was so enormous, smelled fresh. All the aisles added together were miles long.

I enjoyed coming here from time to time, but now, the place was dark and frightening. I did not know what horrors could be hiding in the shadows, around the next corner.

“Mom? Dad?” Khloe called.

Khloe’s voice echoed and died.

We walked the aisles, one by one, checking each. But the entire room seemed empty.

“We should have stayed home,” Khloe said. “They probably went back to get us…”

“Maybe.”

“I can’t leave without them,” Khloe said. “It wouldn’t be right.”

Just then, a door slammed open. I spun on my heels, raising my gun. When I saw it was Khloe’s parents, I lowered my weapon.

“Mom! Dad!”

Khloe ran and threw herself on her mom. Mr. and Mrs. Kline embraced her, racked with sobs.

“Thank God you’re here,” Mrs. Kline said.

Mr. Kline said nothing – he only held his daughter as if he never wanted to let her go.

Both had brown hair. Mr. Kline had a bookish look to him, and wore black-rimmed glasses. Despite this, he was tall and fit. Mrs. Kline was short, a little stout, but in shape. She had kind, gentle eyes.

I felt an intense sense of relief at seeing them. However, the reunion was dragging on too long.

“We need to leave,” I said.

“Yes,” Mr. Kline said. “We just came from the Caf. There are about a dozen making a stand. The rest…”