pain seared through her body, all the way into her brain. It faded soon after, but for four or five seconds, Madison was utterly incapacitated.
When the pain had passed, Madison looked down at her wound. It was not a significant injury in itself, but her heart had already sunk. She knew what a bite meant.
Finally, she turned her weapon to Lambert and the two zombies at the door, taking both creatures out with another pair of shots. The zombies dispatched, Lambert finally closed the door.
“Shit!” he cried. He slid down to the floor, leaning against the door, and coughed violently. “Shit, shit, shit. They get you, Madison?”
Madison nodded. “Yes, sir. The ankle.”
“God damn. My wrist. My leg. They made a fucking buffet out of me.”
“How many of them were there out there?”
“Hallway is teeming,” he said, coughing again. “Gotta be a dozen or more.”
Madison picked up the phone on her desk and listened briefly, but there was nothing on the other end. “Phones are dead.”
Lambert nodded. Madison looked at her boss, who she could tell was struggling already. “How do you want to do this?”
He grunted. “Your gun. Your call.”
Madison felt her gun. It felt heavier than she ever remembered. “I’ll do you first,” she said, trying to block out the pain coursing up her leg.
Lambert nodded again. “Thank God my wife is dead,” he said, almost to himself. “Swore I’d protect her. I’d have failed.”
“We’ve done all we could, sir,” Madison said.
“‘All we could,’” Lambert echoed. “‘All we could.’ Madison, you and I are supposed to be two of the top prevention experts going. Supposed to be able to stay alive even when everyone else has died. Supposed to be the last line of defense. Yet here we are, nursing our wounds and preparing for suicide. Twenty years and we haven’t prepared a damn thing that’s real .
“Let me ask you,” he continued, his voice rising. “What would you have done if you’d heard confirmation today? If word had come before we got bitten?”
Madison thought. “I… I would have alerted the proper…”
“You would have hit the big red button is what you would have done. Made a call, told everyone to hide out. And you’d have locked the doors and hoarded your tin cans and diesel fuel, waiting for… waiting for whatever comes next. We didn’t even establish a plan for what happened if they got in here! We didn’t think it’d come to that. So we’d just be waiting for the Z’s to run out of people to eat, or for them to just go away again. Highest-ranking officials in our goddamned government, and we’d sit and wait to die.”
Madison wanted to argue. Her pride told her to. But her mind, and the wound in her leg, told her there was no argument to be made. “Where do you want it?” she asked.
“Back of the head,” Lambert answered, gesturing to the target. “And don’t miss. Be damned if I’m going to wake up as one of them.” He started to go through the effort of pulling himself up, but he was too weak to do so. He crawled further into the room and propped himself up on his knees.
Madison limped to him, sweat pouring. She held the gun to the back of his head.
“I’m sorry, Madison,” Lambert said, his voice barely audible.
Madison fired, and her boss fell forward. She looked down at the body for a moment, then removed her suit jacket and draped it over his upper torso and head. She put her gun up to her head, but froze. After a moment, she looked around the room, searching. Tucking her handgun into her waistband, limped into her inner office, where she picked up a piece of paper off of the printer and a black marker from her desk. She scribbled a single word onto the paper.
Madison limped around her desk and pulled the stapler out of the drawer. She took the note and stapler to Michelle’s desk, where she pulled out her gun and placed it on the desktop, then sat in the chair.
She could feel her body giving way to
When the pain had passed, Madison looked down at her wound. It was not a significant injury in itself, but her heart had already sunk. She knew what a bite meant.
Finally, she turned her weapon to Lambert and the two zombies at the door, taking both creatures out with another pair of shots. The zombies dispatched, Lambert finally closed the door.
“Shit!” he cried. He slid down to the floor, leaning against the door, and coughed violently. “Shit, shit, shit. They get you, Madison?”
Madison nodded. “Yes, sir. The ankle.”
“God damn. My wrist. My leg. They made a fucking buffet out of me.”
“How many of them were there out there?”
“Hallway is teeming,” he said, coughing again. “Gotta be a dozen or more.”
Madison picked up the phone on her desk and listened briefly, but there was nothing on the other end. “Phones are dead.”
Lambert nodded. Madison looked at her boss, who she could tell was struggling already. “How do you want to do this?”
He grunted. “Your gun. Your call.”
Madison felt her gun. It felt heavier than she ever remembered. “I’ll do you first,” she said, trying to block out the pain coursing up her leg.
Lambert nodded again. “Thank God my wife is dead,” he said, almost to himself. “Swore I’d protect her. I’d have failed.”
“We’ve done all we could, sir,” Madison said.
“‘All we could,’” Lambert echoed. “‘All we could.’ Madison, you and I are supposed to be two of the top prevention experts going. Supposed to be able to stay alive even when everyone else has died. Supposed to be the last line of defense. Yet here we are, nursing our wounds and preparing for suicide. Twenty years and we haven’t prepared a damn thing that’s real .
“Let me ask you,” he continued, his voice rising. “What would you have done if you’d heard confirmation today? If word had come before we got bitten?”
Madison thought. “I… I would have alerted the proper…”
“You would have hit the big red button is what you would have done. Made a call, told everyone to hide out. And you’d have locked the doors and hoarded your tin cans and diesel fuel, waiting for… waiting for whatever comes next. We didn’t even establish a plan for what happened if they got in here! We didn’t think it’d come to that. So we’d just be waiting for the Z’s to run out of people to eat, or for them to just go away again. Highest-ranking officials in our goddamned government, and we’d sit and wait to die.”
Madison wanted to argue. Her pride told her to. But her mind, and the wound in her leg, told her there was no argument to be made. “Where do you want it?” she asked.
“Back of the head,” Lambert answered, gesturing to the target. “And don’t miss. Be damned if I’m going to wake up as one of them.” He started to go through the effort of pulling himself up, but he was too weak to do so. He crawled further into the room and propped himself up on his knees.
Madison limped to him, sweat pouring. She held the gun to the back of his head.
“I’m sorry, Madison,” Lambert said, his voice barely audible.
Madison fired, and her boss fell forward. She looked down at the body for a moment, then removed her suit jacket and draped it over his upper torso and head. She put her gun up to her head, but froze. After a moment, she looked around the room, searching. Tucking her handgun into her waistband, limped into her inner office, where she picked up a piece of paper off of the printer and a black marker from her desk. She scribbled a single word onto the paper.
Madison limped around her desk and pulled the stapler out of the drawer. She took the note and stapler to Michelle’s desk, where she pulled out her gun and placed it on the desktop, then sat in the chair.
She could feel her body giving way to
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