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                “Run to the hills,
                Run for your lives!”

                                Iron Maiden, Run to the Hills

                The ground feels like a trampoline covered with sand.

                I race over the roof, trying to keep to the edges of the frame. The giant rooftop is set up like a series of grids, with each grid having its own height and its own maze-like alignment of support shafts. I try to run along the edges between the grids, hoping to make as little sound as possible.

                I scan the flat horizon for any signs of life. The dark sky up above me shows no stars or the moon, while the world around me is dark as a black drape in a lightless room.

                I dart along the ground, keeping low. I lament dropping my crutch, but now I can’t even remember when I last had it. A small part of me yells at myself as I run for not having gotten my crutch’s twin from the body downstairs.

                As I run, logistics come to me. In my calming mind, I wonder. “A person with the right blood type got infected by the sample, Project 525.” I think to myself as I run. “They turned into a monster and immediately began dying. So they ate someone else, trying to replace what they were losing. If that person had one of the susceptible blood types, then they became a monster as well. If they didn’t, then they just died.”

                I see a light up ahead. I slow.

                It’s a skylight.

                I creep towards the edge of the light, looking down inside. I see a familiar body sitting in a chair over by the corner. The body’s front is hanging down like a bib.

                “Anton.” I shriek. But I clamp my hand in front of my mouth. I listen. I look around.

                Nothing.

                But I look around; getting a gage for the place I’m in. I look around at the giant facility, once again in awe of its size. I stand up on the edge of the space, risking a better look. I can see the edges of the building. I consider my position and turn to check.

                I see the opening. That must be the garden.

                I know where I am.

                I skirt the edge for a little while, just making sure that nothing’s following me. I cautiously make my way closer and closer to the edge of the facility, checking over the side each time to make sure there isn’t anything underneath me. Four stories is apparently enough separation to keep the monsters’ from noticing.

                I finally make my way to the very edge of the facility and squat down. I look over the edge, seeing the long drop down to the grassy surface of the fields. I look out at the trees that obscure my view of anything. I consider the tree line. I glance down the line, seeing several trees only yards away from the building. They look to be about three stories tall. Not tall enough.

                I keep running.

                I circle around the edge of the facility. Littering the ground, I see dead animals. Most of them are whole, as if the monsters had bitten into them, then decided they didn’t like the taste. Some appear to be more eaten away than others.

                I see dear with giant holes in their sides. Rabbits without backs. Squirrels without heads. All gone. All dead.

                I look down the line of what seems to be the back of the facility. At the very edge of the giant place, I have a better view of things. In the far distance, I can see a large brick wall. It looks like it runs around the whole facility, creating a perimeter. Also, in the distance, I see what appears to be light. It might be a town; it might be a street lamp. I can’t tell.

                I look down along the rear of the building. I see another overhang.

                And I see a tree a few yards from it.

                The tree’s the same size as the others, but the overhang’s dropped down close to the top of the tree. I rush over there, already searching for a branch. By the time I reach the overhang, I’ve already chosen out a thick line of wood, about as thick as both my legs. It looks maybe two yards down from the surface of the overhang. It’ll hurt, but it should hold me.

                I reach over hang and check around me.

                No movement.

                No sound.

                I consider the height. I know I’ve made bigger jumps, but that was on my motorcycle, in a show. And that was to land on a ramp. Still, I only spare a few thoughts about how I wished I had some liquid courage, then I just do it. I don’t think; I just throw myself across.

                I underestimate my own strength, because I don’t hit the branch with my chest.

                I straddle it.

                I just sit there for a moment, my eyes closed as I try not to cry. I shift my weight as I nearly fall over off the branch, the pain shooting through me from the apex of my legs up through the top of my hair. Every inch of my body is in absolute pain.

                It takes me a few minutes just to breathe again.

                I stay close to the trees. I try to move along shadows, like I saw in a movie once. There’s no wind, with only stale air that surrounds me. But now the warmth of the night makes me feel a bit more comfortable to move, compared to the frigid cold of the facility. In my stolen loafers and white lab coat, I keep my hands in the straps of my backpack, rushing along.

                I skate across the grass, making my way to the security wall. I see its large brick form long before I get near it. I keep an eye and an ear out for monsters, but I don’t see or hear anything. Every so often, I stop by a tree and listen, never registering anything.

                I finally reach the wall. It’s over two stories tall, but a quick climb up a tree and that’s no problem. But once I’m the wall itself, I’m confronted with a new concern: getting down. The two stories down look a lot scarier than they did from the bottom.

                I look around in the darkness, listening.

                And I hear something.

                Sadly I don’t have time reflect on what I heard. Because as I shift around to figure out what direction it came from, my balance is thrown off. And all I remember is looking over as the ground suddenly starts to come up towards me.

                I wake up feeling wet. I panic, thinking I’m bleeding. But I feel underneath my back, seeing water on my hand when I look at it. I sit up and hear the shaking of the burst water bottle as I take off my backpack. I curse and start to reshoulder the black bag when I hear it again.

                Hissing and snarling.

                But it’s on this side of the wall.

                I freeze up, looking around. I don’t see any branches or rocks or anything. So I grab myself up and ignore the pain of the fall as I burst down the road.

                I hear my footfalls on the rocky pavement, but I also hear theirs. They’re gaining on me. I can’t tell how close they are, but I know they’re getting closer.

                I run along, smelling blood. I skid to a halt.

                Six bodies are in the road. Off to the side, I see a crashed car that’s gone silent. The bodies are covered in blood and missing parts.

                I look over my shoulder, not seeing the sounds that I hear getting closer.

                I look at the bodies.

                It takes every ounce of strength I have to not move.

                I try not to breathe.

                Covered in the blood of one of the bodies, I lay underneath two decimated corpses, my eyes held almost completely closed. I try to look as dead as possible.

                The one on the right comes up and starts sniff at the bodies. He’s a large man, built like a doughnut on its side. His hairless head shakes in the light, while the one on the left just sits aimless and half-dead. It picks at a foot near itself.

                There’s a hiss and the one on the right looks up. It snorts and starts, then jerks itself away. It starts to run. I turn and look as I see a dear bursting off into the tree line on the other side of the gravel road. I listen as they both run off, to chase down the dashing dear.

                I swear to never eat venison again.

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