Chapter Twelve

We got back into Mr. Sanders' apartment. Jill and I were still crying. I couldn't believe it. How could we have lost? As far as I knew, I'd never seen a movie where zombies actually climbed—except World War Z, but those zombies climbed on top of each other. These ones? They were climbing a rope. Or a wire. Alone.

It reminded me of an episode of Doctor Who—“New Earth.” Some infected humans climbed an elevator shaft like zombies, but they weren’t undead. Just sick. Sure, Doctor Who had its share of zombie-like monsters, but none were like this. Those were more for laughs. This? This was real.

“Now that we’re safe from the zombies, what do we do?” I asked softly.

“I don't know,” Jill muttered, wiping her eyes. “We don’t have anyone to help us anymore. Mr. Sanders is gone and…” Her voice cracked as she broke into fresh sobs.

I walked over to the computer. It was still on. That was a good sign. I checked the Ethernet cord. It was long—too long for no reason. But there was no connection. I followed the cable across the room, where it disappeared into a small hole in the floor.

“This must run to the old lady’s apartment downstairs,” I thought. Mr. Sanders had mentioned her before. Maybe she was still alive—and had the Internet. I had to find out. If we didn’t have Internet, we couldn’t find maps, food supply locations, or other safe zones. I needed that link.

I looked back at Jill. She’d cried herself to sleep. That was good. I didn’t want to tell her what I was doing. If she knew I was sneaking into a zombie-infested floor for Wi-Fi, she'd lose it.

Still coated in dried zombie guts, I added another smear for good measure. It still smelled horrible, but that smell had kept us safe before. I grabbed my katana, took one last look at Jill, and slipped into the hallway.

The door to the stairwell creaked open. Dark. Why was it always dark when you didn’t want it to be? Most of the lights on the other floors worked fine. Maybe this one was on a different circuit—or maybe maintenance gave up on it. Either way, it gave me chills.

Step by step, I moved down the staircase. My hand hovered near the wall as I stepped over a few corpses—long dead and, thankfully, still. When I finally reached the landing, I eased open the door.

Zombies.

Not a horde, but enough to make me tighten my grip on my katana. They staggered aimlessly down the hallway, not noticing me yet. Thank God the hallway lights worked.

If I was right, the old woman’s apartment was directly beneath Mr. Sanders’—so I headed to the unit below his. Of course, it was locked. I had two options: find a master key from the lowest level or pick the lock. I wasn’t going forty-something floors down.

I dug into my pocket and pulled out a bobby pin. Hey, they were good for more than just keeping my hair back. I stripped off the rubber tips with my teeth and bent it into shape. Carefully, I worked the pin into the lock, keeping one eye on the hallway.

My fingers were shaking. I kept imagining a groan right behind me, teeth closing in—

Enough. I stood, drew my katana, and cleared the hallway. Two zombies. One clean sweep. Legs gone. Heads off. I made sure the other doors were closed and locked, then returned to the task. Silence settled like a blanket—thick and heavy.

Finally—click. The door creaked open.

But I couldn’t get inside. The chain was on. She was still alive—or had died recently. Either way, she hadn’t turned. Yet.

I wasn’t strong enough to force the door open with my weight—not like this. So I did what any stubborn six-year-old would do: I backed up, locked eyes on the door—and ran full speed.

BAM.

I smacked into the door hard. “Ow!” I cried, clutching my nose. My eyes watered. That was stupid. So stupid.

Then—click. Rattle. Slide.

The chain and lock opened. The door cracked.

And there she was.

An older woman—late fifties or early sixties—stood in the doorway, eyes wide. “Oh dear, I’m so sorry!” she said, pulling me inside gently.

I didn’t notice until it was too late—I’d dropped my katana outside.

She guided me inside and sat me on the couch. She bustled to the kitchen and returned with a handkerchief-wrapped ice pack.

“Here you go, sweetie,” she cooed, handing it to me. “Put this on your booboo.”

Booboo? What did she think I was—four?

Still, I pressed it to my nose. “Owie,” I muttered, half-embarrassed, half-comforted. She picked me up and placed me on her lap like I weighed nothing. It felt… strange. But also nice. I hadn’t been held like that in a long time.

My mom used to do that—before she met George Russell. Just thinking about him made my stomach twist. He was the reason we were in this mess. The zombies. The virus. The formula. Isisraxtosa. His fault.

“So, little miss,” she said gently. “Why were you trying to break into my apartment?”

I sniffled and looked down. “I just wanted to fix the Internet. Mr. Sanders said the router came from this unit, and I thought… I thought it was overrun with zombies. I just wanted to help…”

“You didn’t need to risk your life for that. You could’ve knocked.”

“We can’t use the phones,” I replied.

“Oh. Right. I forgot.” She chuckled softly. “By the way… how’s the Colonel doing?”

I looked up, eyes wide—and she saw the answer.

“Oh,” she whispered.

“He didn’t make it,” I said. “Zombies. On the roof. It was awful.”

“That place was crawling with them,” she muttered. “Would’ve been better to go to the old pool downstairs. It still works.”

I blinked. “Why didn’t we think of that?”

“You use big words for someone so small,” she smiled.

“Uh… fast learner,” I lied. I wasn’t going to tell her I used to be a sixteen-year-old boy.

Suddenly I remembered—Jill. “I have to go. My friend’s upstairs. She’ll freak out if she wakes up and I’m gone.”

“How old is she?”

“Six. Like me.”

“You girls shouldn’t be alone. You should come live here.”

“We’re okay,” I insisted. “I’m good with zombies. I took out two earlier. And we made it out of the rooftop pool fight.”

She gave me a look of concern. “Still. You’re just kids.”

Before I could answer, someone knocked at the door.

“Who could that be?” the lady wondered. She walked over to the door and looked out the peephole. Why didn’t she do that when I was there? Maybe she did, but didn’t see me because of my height.

“Oh my goodness.”

She opened the door. On the other side stood Mr. Sanders, holding my katana. I guess that’s how he found me. Behind him was a very mad-looking Jill. I was in for it with her.

“Mr. Sanders! I thought you were dead!” I cried, rushing to hug him.

“I would’ve been if it wasn’t for Jill dropping her sword in the pool. I was able to kill all of the ones in the water and get away, shutting the door behind me. I’d recommend not going back up there.”

Since Mr. Sanders was alive, we could live upstairs in the apartment again. That’s where I wanted to be. The best part? We could now go between the two floors. No zombies on either level, thanks to me killing the only two on this one.

We worked on fixing the Ethernet cord. Not surprising—it had just been unplugged. She probably did it while cleaning one day. Her apartment looked spotless, even now, during the apocalypse.

Maybe, just maybe, we could clear the rest of the building. All forty or so floors. Turn the whole place into a safe haven. A home for anyone we find. Could we actually kill all the dead and make this building ours?

We could even fix the pool upstairs. And the one outside. But that’ll take a while—especially after what happened with Jill and Mr. Sanders earlier today.

We made it back to the apartment, and I finally got on the Internet. I checked out a few local places that might help us. And maybe watched a video or two. I hadn’t seen any shows in days—I’d go crazy if I didn’t see my favorites, even if I’d already watched them a dozen times.

Jill was back in the room, reading again. She sure loved books. And she was definitely still mad at me. I just hoped she wouldn’t stay mad forever. I didn’t mean to scare her. I was only gone for a little while, trying to fix the Internet. I didn’t think she’d even notice. But she must have woken up, seen I was gone, and panicked.

I stepped into the room and sat down on the bed. Jill kept reading. I waited, hoping she’d look up. She didn’t. After a while, tears welled up in my eyes.

“I’m sorry for leaving you alone, Jill,” I whispered.

“That’s not why I’m mad,” she said, not looking up. “I wanted to go with you. You should’ve told me.”

“Oh. I didn’t know that.” I pouted. “I’m sorry.”

Jill hugged me. “You’re my best friend. And best friends stick together.”

We were both exhausted from the day. It only took seconds before we fell asleep. We hadn’t eaten much, but we’d eat tomorrow. I knew it.

And it was true—because the next morning, we woke up famished.

I found out the lady downstairs was named Beverly. She was kind enough to bring us some fried eggs, pancakes, and a cup of fresh-squeezed orange juice.

With Beverly living here the whole time, I started to wonder—how many more people were still in the building? There had to be a way to find out... without the dead noticing.

I stared outside. The zombies had taken over—left, right, every which way. Mears Park was now crawling with them. I couldn’t understand why they were so drawn to it. I was starting to go stir-crazy. I wished I could just go somewhere. Even a mall would be better than this.

Mr. Sanders and Jill were in the living room, reading a book together. How could Jill read so much? I knew it was useful, but come on—wasn’t she bored?

“Mr. Sanders?” I whined. “Is there anything I can do to pass the time?”

“You could read a book,” he offered.

I sighed. “Never mind.”
What I really wanted to do was go zombie hunting. That was fun yesterday—well, until Jill fell in the pool. Or swimming! “Beverly said the pool downstairs is still safe. All we need to do is fill it up.”

“That pool?” Mr. Sanders frowned. “I don’t know what she’s talking about. It’s too dangerous. You can only reach it by going through the Skyway. It’s part of an old fitness center,” he said. “Besides, you’d have to climb a lot. Over forty-five stories.”

“How did you bring Jill and me up here, then?”

“I carried you. Jill rode on my shoulders.”

I looked over at Jill. She was smiling. Lucky.

I turned back to Mr. Sanders. “What about the zombies? How did you get past them without fighting?”

“I killed all the ones in the stairwell,” he replied. “I had to find a way to get around faster. Taking the elevator would’ve been too risky. It’s noisy, and it’s old—it doesn’t close fast enough. If there were zombies waiting when it opened, you wouldn’t have time to shut it before they got inside.” He looked at me, waiting for a reaction. “So… still want to go to the pool?”

I grinned. If he wanted to be smart, I could be smart right back.
“Only if I ride your shoulders.”

We were in the staircase, heading downstairs. Jill stayed back—she wasn’t ready for a mission. Instead, she wanted to hang out with Beverly and help make dinner. Just in case, I brought my katana. I wasn’t sure if any had found their way into the stairwell. Anything could happen now.

Honestly, I was having fun. I hadn’t had a shoulder ride since I was little. And now that I am little again, I had to take advantage of it.

I was surprised that only a few stair lights had burned out. The rest still worked, making it pretty bright. That made it easier to spot the dead lying on the steps. Kind of gross, though. I wondered if it was possible to get new bulbs to replace the missing ones. I hate the dark.

There was a lot to think about while going down these stairs. One thing I noticed was just how much Jill and I had changed over the past week.

I kept wondering about Mom and Jessica. Were they safe from the tornado? They were in the cellar when it hit the house. Are they grieving over me and Jill—if they’re still alive? I have to find out. There has to be a way.

Finally, we made it to the bottom. But that wasn’t the end. Now we had to find a way to reach the pool.

Would there be zombies in the pool area, like there were on the roof? And if there are… I just hope there aren’t as many.