SURVIVORS OF THE DEAD: FROM THE ASHES Read Free Page A

after the lobby incident. Dropping the mag from the weapon, he reloaded the rounds he had fired. Harry suddenly realized he had not noticed the slight discomfort caused by the large weapon pressing into his skin until that moment. He also realized that the minor discomfort must have subconsciously kept him a bit more grounded in the otherwise surreal last couple of hours of hell in which he had found himself. “No time to sit in the corner babbling incoherently about the possibility of large slobbering dogs or zombies roaming the streets of San Francisco,” Harry said absently, slipping the freshly reloaded mag back into the grip of the Glock, then pulling back the slide to chamber a round. “Work to do right now.”
    Harry retrieved the master key that would unlock any apartment in the building from the hook he kept by the door, and ventured out. The first door he approached was only about ten feet from his, but he could hear the pounding and that moaning almost as soon as he entered the hallway. Walking up to the door and using the tenant’s name he called through it, “Jean, it’s Harry, the manager, are you okay?”
    The only response was a more insistent pounding.
    “Jean, step back away from the door so I can open it. I want to help you.”
    Furious pounding was the only response to Harry’s pleas.
    Inserting the master key with his left hand, tightly holding the Glock with his right, he quickly assessed what he was actually going to do. He was afraid that as soon as he unlocked the door, the tenant would surely come out and set upon him.
    “Jean , please step back from the door so I can help you,” Harry once again pleaded as he turned the key in the lock, standing just to the left of the door in a standard police door knock position. He clearly heard the key turn the deadbolt with a distinctive click; the pounding continued, with an increase in the moaning, but nothing else happened.
    Not understanding why the tenant had not rushed out of the door, Harry grasped the doorknob, still standing to the left side of the entry, and slowly turned it. The pounding became more frantic, if that was possible, which only increased Harry’s anxiety. He pushed the in-swinging door open just a fraction, maybe two or three inches, and was instantly met with the tenant, or whoever was on the other side, slamming their body into it and causing it to slam shut. Harry nearly pissed himself but quickly recovered. With a slightly trembling hand, he once again grasped and turned the knob, going through the same procedure as before, and again the door was slammed shut with the heavy thud of a body impacting it from the inside.
    “God damn it! I’m trying to help you!” Harry shouted in frustration. No intelligent response was given in return from the tenant other than the constant pounding and moaning which was beginning to really grate on his nerves. Staring at the door for several moments, Harry finally said, “Fuck it,” turned the knob once again, and shouldered the door with everything he had. The door flew open, knocking the tenant to the floor some feet back.
    Harry was able to see clearly that this was, in fact, the tenant of the apartment. Jean was a young woman in her mid to late 20’s, athletic and in very good shape – a stark contrast to Edna and Katy – although it was quite evident that she had the same reddish eyes and what appeared to be a pinkish white froth around her lips.
    Jean quickly regained her feet , nearly jumping up as she rushed Harry, who had already had the Glock aimed in her general direction after he forced the door open. Without hesitation he fired twice into Jean, who was literally thrown back across the room from the impact of the rounds. Although Harry’s experience in the lobby earlier that morning should have prepared him for what happened next, he watched in absolute horror as Jean got up. It was much slower this time, but she still got to her feet, staring at Harry all the while, and