They Will Run You Down

Twenty-Five: Bath Salts

For a moment John struggled to understand what had happened as he, Perez and Edvin lay atop the rubble that only moments ago had been the stairs. One lone flashlight lay sideways on the concrete floor several feet from John, illuminating only a tiny portion of the space and leaving everything else in a veil of black.

Edvin coughed as he stiffly pushed himself up to a sitting position, "Everyone okay?"

"Yeah," Perez croaked after drawing in a deep breath.

John was the first to stand and took a painful step forward, picking up the flashlight. He shone it over to Edvin and Perez then reached out a hand, helping them up one at a time.

Once all three were virtical, John inspected the broken steps with his light, spotting immediately the answer to why they had collapsed.

"The stringers were sawed," he explained, pointing his light at the many areas where clear saw marks could be seen.

"Why?" Perez frowned.

Just then, the group of three heard a disturbing growl from the darkened recesses of the basement and John whipped around with his light. Nothing could be seen yet though, due to the many free standing shelving units that stood nearby, creating a labyrinth of keepsakes and memorabilia.

Perez was quick to realize that she had dropped her gun in the fall, "John, I need the light," she said, prompting him to turn back toward the rubble so she could look.

Edvin patted his pockets; he too had lost his weapon.

A breathy squeal soon pierced through the darkness as Edvin and Perez hurriedly hunted under the broken steps, lifting pieces of wood, but finding nothing.

"Shit," Perez whispered as the sound of shuffling feet and grating, wheezing breaths reached her ears.

John passed the flashlight over to Edvin and reached down quickly, picking up his gun which had landed not far from where the flashlight had been.

Meanwhile the sounds of an unknown number of screamers continued to perforate the stagnant air, moving closer by the second.

"Fuck! Where's my gun?" Perez hissed, anxiously rooting through the layers of broken wood.

The pitch of Perez' frustrated voice was enough to further excite the unseen infected, and all at once the shuffling feet sped up and a piercing shriek echoed off of the concrete walls, sounding too close for comfort.

John raised his gun, gripping it tightly in both hands and aimed it into the darkness, "Edvin- light!" he demanded.

Just as Edvin panned over, illuminating the open space between two stocked shelving units, a stark white face, contorted and hideous, burst forward from the veil of black and lunged toward John, its jaw unhinged and a sickening, gargled hiss erupting from its muddy mouth.

John pulled the trigger on his gun and with an ear-splitting boom, the screamer's body jerked fiercely backwards and dropped heavily to the floor.

Perez stopped searching for her gun, and instead wrenched the folding knife she carried out of her back pocket, "Okay- bring it," she muttered, taking on a defensive stance.

All at once, two screamers barreled forward, clawing and tripping over each other and the dead screamer on the floor. John fired, the sound ringing in his ears. He managed to take one out, but the other lunged toward Edvin squealing insidiously, the sludge in its mouth creating slimy strings that clung to its upper and lower teeth. Edvin backed up a step before rearing up his leg and thrusting his heavy boot into the screamer's gut, shoving it back several feet where it hit one of the solid shelves. Perez advanced toward the creature before it could recover, gripping its filthy shirt and plunging her blade into its right eye socket. Once the job was done, Perez threw the dead screamer to the floor, "Yeah!" She cheered breathlessly, her excitement befitting that of a soldier.