Brian Keene: Entombed

I was still sitting in the movie room when Drew rushed in. Much like the day when we’d first entered the bunker, his eyes were wide and his expression was panicked. He was breathing hard, and when I asked him what was wrong, he held up a finger, indicating that I should wait. He bent over, put his hands on his knees, and gulped air. He sounded like he was dying. His face was red from exertion and sweat lathered his forehead and cheeks. I waited for him to catch his breath.

“What’s wrong?” I placed a hand on his shoulder. He was warm, and his shirt was damp with perspiration. “Are you having a heart attack or something?”

He shook his head and gasped. “They just voted… Chuck and the rest.”

“So it’s finished, then? Well, thank God that’s over with. Now we can get back to figuring out an alternative. Come up with a real plan.”

“No… they voted… to do it. They voted yes.”

I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t. I was too stunned. I’d been scoffing at this insanity ever since Chuck had first proposed it. I hadn’t taken it seriously, and I’d figured most of the others wouldn’t either. Well, none of the sane people in our group, at least. A few might consider it—those who were cracking from the strain of our situation. But I’d always assumed that in the end, clearer heads would prevail. I’d been positive that the majority of us wouldn’t vote for something as totally fucked up as cannibalism via lottery. That’s why I hadn’t even attended the group meeting with everyone else. I’d figured the others would tell Chuck they were voting ‘No’ and that would put an end to the whole crazy idea. After all, who in their right mind would actually vote for allowing themselves a one in twenty-six chance of ending up as dinner for the rest of us?

Apparently, quite a few.

“They voted in favor of it?” My voice was barely a whisper. “In favor? ”

Drew nodded. “Yeah. It was unanimous—except for me. I voted against it, of course.”

“Nobody else? Not even the Chinese guy?”

“He voted in favor, too.”

“But he doesn’t even speak English. How did he know what they were voting on?”

Drew shrugged.

“So, you and I are the only sane motherfuckers left down here?”

“It sure seems like it. What are we going to do, Pete?”

“I don’t know, brother. I don’t know.”

Eisenhower watched us, his bronze face expressionless. Aqua Teen Hunger Force still played on the big screen—Master Shake and Meatwad were singing a song about zombies. The irony made my stomach churn. I idly wished that I’d watched Reba instead. If I was going to die, it would have been better to go out jerking off to Joanna Garcia rather than watching a bunch of cartoon characters, no matter how funny they were.

Drew stood up. I was happy to see that both his complexion and his breathing were slowly returning to normal. It would have been a hell of a thing if he’d died of a heart attack before our fellow survivors had a chance to kill and eat him properly. He glanced out into the hallway and then quietly shut the door

“Jesus…” I shook my head in disbelief. “I can’t believe this shit.”

“There’s more, Pete. It gets worse.”

“How can it get any worse?”

“Since you didn’t attend the meeting, Chuck and the others decided… shit, I don’t know how to say this.”

“Decided what? Just tell me what the hell is going on.”

“They decided… they decided that you should be first. They… they said that was only fair, since everybody else was willing to vote even though it might be them that got picked. Chuck said that since you didn’t have the balls to show up, you were being disrespectful to the rest of them. They all agreed. Well, maybe agreed isn’t the right word, but they all went along with it. So, instead of a lottery to decide who feeds the rest of us, they’ve picked you to be the first.”

“Fuck you.”

“I’m not kidding. You’ve got to get the hell out of here, Pete. They’re coming.”

I stood there, stunned. My arms hung limp and numb at my sides. My hands and fingers tingled as if asleep. My asshole puckered and my balls shrank. There was a feeling in my stomach, a sensation I’d only felt once before in my life on the day my wife of eight years, Alyssa, told me she was leaving me and that she wanted a divorce. I sat on the couch that day, wanting desperately to flee, to run away from her, to get out of the range of the things she was saying, because if I couldn’t hear her say them, then they wouldn’t come true—but I was unable to move. On that day, my body felt like it temporarily belonged to someone else. Now I had that feeling once again, to paraphrase that old Pink Floyd song, except that in real life, my numbness was anything but comfortable. Instead, it was like drowning in a bathtub full of ice. Drew said something to me, but I couldn’t understand him. The ringing in my ears was too loud. I watched his lips, trying to read them. He grabbed my shoulders and shook me hard.

“Come on,” he urged again. “You’ve got to go, Pete. Snap out of it. You’ve got to run, right fucking now.”

“Where are they?” It was hard to form the words. My tongue felt thick.

“Last I saw, they were all still in the dining room.”

“Well, that’s appropriate.”

“They were debating how to proceed. Some of them said we should tell it to you straight—we owed you that, as decent human beings.”

I choked down laughter and bile. Drew didn’t notice.

“A couple people said we should just wait until you went to sleep, and capture you then, but Chuck and the others said that we should act before that. Then they started debating how. By that point, I was already slipping out the door to come warn you. As far as I know, they’re still debating, but it won’t be much longer. They’ll come for you. That’s why you’ve got to go now, man.”

“But where? The reason they’re having this vote is because we’re trapped in here. Where the hell am I supposed to go, Drew?”

“I don’t know.”

I shook my head in despair. “I can’t go outside or into the hotel. The zombies are still there, hanging around both sets of blast doors. I mean, what kind of choice is that? Leave the bunker and get eaten by the dead, or stay here and get eaten by the living? Either way, I’m screwed.”

“Just hide, then.”

“Hide? Hide where , exactly? We’re in a bunker, Drew. And what the hell am I supposed to do when they find me? And they will find me. What then? Talk my way out of it? We don’t have any weapons down here. Sure, we’ve got kitchen utensils and tools and shit, but I can’t fight my way out of here with a fucking butter knife.”

Drew paused for a moment. Then, with an excited grin, he snapped his fingers and grabbed my arm.

“What about the power plant? It’s dark and crowded and there’s all kinds of places to hide in between the transformers and the generators and stuff. Best of all, it’s so loud in there. They’ll never hear you over those generators. Hide there. I can bring you water, whenever I get a chance.”

“Until they catch you,” I said. “Then we’ll both be dinner.”

“Well, I don’t know what other options you—”

He stopped suddenly as the sound of footsteps echoed down the hall, coming toward us. The fear returned to Drew’s eyes. He glanced around the room frantically.

“Quick— hide! ”

I had two choices—stand behind the door or duck down behind Eisenhower’s display. If I hid behind the door, there was a chance that whoever opened it would see me. It was dark in the room, except for the glow from the television, but if they pushed the door too far and it struck me, I’d be discovered. I glanced at the small stand that Eisenhower’s bust sat on. If whoever was coming stood at certain spots in the room, they’d surely see me crouched down behind it. My only hope was that the room’s dim lighting might work to my advantage.