effect. "Hey! I'm alive out here! No bites, no blood! I feel great!" Pressing an ear to the door, Matty called out again and then starting kicking the sturdy metal door. "Come on, man! I just killed two of them out here!"
How much longer can I make a racket before more come? He wiped sweat from his brow and kicked the door again, this time banging out patterns and rhythms. What's Morse code for 'open the fucking door right now'?
Maybe he was hearing things, but a faint shuffle sound grabbed his attention; he pressed an ear to the door. "Hello?" Someone—or something—was definitely on the other side. Matty heard a metallic sound… keys jangling.
"Slide your ID under the door," a squeaky voice demanded.
"Are you shittin' me? My ID is that I'm talking and not growling," Matty replied. "Open the door, please!"
"Unless you're a student, I can't let you through."
"What?" Matty recoiled from the door, throwing his hands up and sneering. "There are zombies eating people alive and you're seriously trying to card me?"
There was no reply from the other side. Matty gave up and fished through his pockets; he pulled out his driver's license, student ID, social security card, fishing license, handgun permit, concealed carry permit, and supermarket bonus bucks membership card. One by one, he flicked them under the door in rapid-fire.
"Okay, okay! I get the point!" Captain squeaky chirped. The keys jangled and the door swung open. A kid five or six years Matty's junior, pimple-faced and beady-eyed, held the door open. He was wearing a campus security uniform.
Matty slid into the tiled hallway, waited for him to re-lock the door, and then drilled him in the face with a left cross. Squawking like a crow fighting over roadkill, the kid fell down and writhed, kicking his legs and thrashing. Matty nonchalantly collected the identification cards, slid them into his pocket, and pulled the guard to his feet.
"No more horseshit out of you," Matty warned him. "Next time you're an asshole like that, I'll shoot you. We good?" He slapped the kid on his shoulder and grinned.
Cupping a hand to his reddened cheek, the pimpled youth looked to be on the verge of tears. "What's wrong with you?"
Matty snapped out a right jab, hitting the guard in the bicep. "That's for asking a dumbass question. Next dumbass question will cost you two." He held up two fingers and then made a fist. "I should ask what's wrong with you. Is it cool keep me locked out with flesh-eating monsters running amok?"
"I… I was just—"
"Whatever, man." Matty waved the explanation away. "Who else is down here? Are all the stairwell doors locked?"
The kid nodded. "I shut off the elevator and locked the doors. There is one guy in the lab and another in the security office. Two women are in the security room with him."
"Two women? Is one of them a smokin' hot black girl wearing a purple dress?"
The guard shook his head. "No, they're both faculty members. The guy in the security office is my boss, Carl, and there's a grad student in the biology lab. He was doing some thesis work when I locked down the floor."
"Do you know his name?" Matty asked.
He shrugged. "I didn't think to ask."
"Are you… fuckin' stupid or something?" Matty exploded. "You keep me in the hall with zombies, asking for my ID, and you don't bother to check anyone else?"
Backing away, hands raised, the guard stuttered: "Pl-please… I'm so scared, I didn't know what to do…"
"Whatever. Do you have any weapons or a spare set of security keys?"
"No," the kid replied. "No weapons… well, we have some mace, but I don't think that works. There are spare keys in the office."
"Lead the way, chief." Matty fell in step behind the guard; they walked swiftly along the dimly lit basement corridor. Most of the rooms were closed and locked, but light shone from the laboratory area and from
How much longer can I make a racket before more come? He wiped sweat from his brow and kicked the door again, this time banging out patterns and rhythms. What's Morse code for 'open the fucking door right now'?
Maybe he was hearing things, but a faint shuffle sound grabbed his attention; he pressed an ear to the door. "Hello?" Someone—or something—was definitely on the other side. Matty heard a metallic sound… keys jangling.
"Slide your ID under the door," a squeaky voice demanded.
"Are you shittin' me? My ID is that I'm talking and not growling," Matty replied. "Open the door, please!"
"Unless you're a student, I can't let you through."
"What?" Matty recoiled from the door, throwing his hands up and sneering. "There are zombies eating people alive and you're seriously trying to card me?"
There was no reply from the other side. Matty gave up and fished through his pockets; he pulled out his driver's license, student ID, social security card, fishing license, handgun permit, concealed carry permit, and supermarket bonus bucks membership card. One by one, he flicked them under the door in rapid-fire.
"Okay, okay! I get the point!" Captain squeaky chirped. The keys jangled and the door swung open. A kid five or six years Matty's junior, pimple-faced and beady-eyed, held the door open. He was wearing a campus security uniform.
Matty slid into the tiled hallway, waited for him to re-lock the door, and then drilled him in the face with a left cross. Squawking like a crow fighting over roadkill, the kid fell down and writhed, kicking his legs and thrashing. Matty nonchalantly collected the identification cards, slid them into his pocket, and pulled the guard to his feet.
"No more horseshit out of you," Matty warned him. "Next time you're an asshole like that, I'll shoot you. We good?" He slapped the kid on his shoulder and grinned.
Cupping a hand to his reddened cheek, the pimpled youth looked to be on the verge of tears. "What's wrong with you?"
Matty snapped out a right jab, hitting the guard in the bicep. "That's for asking a dumbass question. Next dumbass question will cost you two." He held up two fingers and then made a fist. "I should ask what's wrong with you. Is it cool keep me locked out with flesh-eating monsters running amok?"
"I… I was just—"
"Whatever, man." Matty waved the explanation away. "Who else is down here? Are all the stairwell doors locked?"
The kid nodded. "I shut off the elevator and locked the doors. There is one guy in the lab and another in the security office. Two women are in the security room with him."
"Two women? Is one of them a smokin' hot black girl wearing a purple dress?"
The guard shook his head. "No, they're both faculty members. The guy in the security office is my boss, Carl, and there's a grad student in the biology lab. He was doing some thesis work when I locked down the floor."
"Do you know his name?" Matty asked.
He shrugged. "I didn't think to ask."
"Are you… fuckin' stupid or something?" Matty exploded. "You keep me in the hall with zombies, asking for my ID, and you don't bother to check anyone else?"
Backing away, hands raised, the guard stuttered: "Pl-please… I'm so scared, I didn't know what to do…"
"Whatever. Do you have any weapons or a spare set of security keys?"
"No," the kid replied. "No weapons… well, we have some mace, but I don't think that works. There are spare keys in the office."
"Lead the way, chief." Matty fell in step behind the guard; they walked swiftly along the dimly lit basement corridor. Most of the rooms were closed and locked, but light shone from the laboratory area and from
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