After (#3)

Chapter Four

They were close. He knew they were close. He could feel their teeth chattering all the way through his ear and deep into the centre of his brain. The snapping, the scratching, the clicking, it was like the soundtrack to his life.

They were going to get in today.

He had heard them finally break through the barricade on the floor below hours ago. That meant there were two doors between the clickers and them, either side of a narrow staircase. That wouldn't take them longer than sunset. This was his final day. This was Georgie's final day.

He had thought about smashing a window, and scaling down the building, but there was no material to use. He had tried to pull up the carpet, but it was no use. The cheap fibre came up in lumps rather than neat strips, and he had nothing to tie it with anyway.

He had even tried to call the lift in the centre of the room, hoping that it might both crush some of their hunters, while also offering them a path to freedom. No electricity.

They could try and make it to the roof, scale the couple of metres up to it from a broken window, but what was the point? They would likely fall to their deaths trying, and even once they were up there, starvation would be an inevitability.

They had been lucky that some employees had left behind snacks in their desks, otherwise they may not have even lasted this long.

Rodney had started to think more about the end. He had to. He had to choose their ending, he still had that power. The images in his head of George being torn apart by those monsters was too much to bear. He didn't think he would have the courage to stop it, but the pictures had played behind his closed eyes too much, he knew it had to be done.

But would he be able to turn the gun on himself afterwards? He truly didn't know if he would be brave enough to pull that trigger, to save himself. Maybe the first shot would make it easier.

"Where is Lizzie?" George kept asking. "And JJ, and Karl. Where are Max and Dawson?"

Rodney didn't know how to answer. "They're safe," he would always reply.

"Are we?"

"We will be, George."

They were in the stairwell now. Only one door between them and their meal. Rodney gripped his gun tighter than ever. There were too many to kill, that was for sure. He knew that he only had around ten bullets left, but ten would be plenty.

He could smell them now. That was new. Somehow that was comforting, something new. It meant that he was alive, for just a little bit longer.

Rodney craned his neck slightly, pointing his right ear towards the window behind him. Soft mumblings trickled through the humid mid-day air, that was new too.

It sounded like a voice, a distant voice, growing louder and louder, before it finally became distinguishable.

"Dawkins! We're looking for a Dawkins!"

"Give it here you idiot! Dawson, Dawson! Can you hear us? Rodney? Karl? Rodney? Karl?"

Rodney leapt to his feet, sending the half-asleep George sprawling to the floor. Rodney helped the young boy up, frantically peering out of the dusty glass towards the voices.

He hadn't been hearing voices up until now, but could this all be in his head?

"Dawsonnnnn! Rodneyyyyy! Karrrrrrl!"

No, this was real. The voices were real, and they were close now. Rodney pulled his sleeve tight over his hand and wiped furiously at the glass until the dust and dirt smeared into a somewhat transparent window.