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                “Planning is pointless. Staying alive is as good as it gets.”

                                Selena, 28 Days Later

                Except for my steel chair, the white room is empty. Completely. Even the light is actually dug into the ceiling titles itself, which all seem to be welded. The only way out is through the chrome-like steel door to the right of the chair.

                I take my crusting shirt off, trying not to get too grossed out by the light brown stains underneath the arms. I wrap the shirt around my hand, then close my fist around the handcuffs. I pop my neck, then shake myself loose. I try to calm down.

                “He’s going to be facing away.” I say to myself. “Just move fast. The door opens into the room. He won’t see it opening. Just move fast.” I breathe out hard again and force myself not to think. I bounce on my feet a few times, then throw a few fast warm-up punches, then roll my shoulders. I consider actually stretching out properly, but I doubt I have that kind of time. “Here we go.” I say to myself, turning to face the door.

                I take the metal handle and pull on it slightly, pressing down. The door opens without too much sound. I move with the opening, using it to block my steps as I look out into the hallway. One guard. He’s standing on the near side. He’s facing away. As I move around the door, I’m already staring at the base of his neck. I draw back on my shirt-covered hand and let fly.

                I try not to think about the fact that I may have just killed someone. I keep telling myself that he’s a vampire, and in a few hours, after he eats a small child or something, he’ll be back to normal. I ignore the thought of the blood all over my t-shirt, which I leave on the man’s face.

                He’s too big for me to take most of his clothes. His pants and shirts are out of the question. Shoes too. I do try on his jacket and, surprisingly, it’s not too large. I take his belt and pocket everything in his pockets. I also take his gun, though I’ve never handled an AK-47 before. I decide I’ll give it to Slate and let her do her Rambo thing.

                I step out into the corridor, shutting the door quietly behind me. The white walls seem familiar, though I have no grasp of where I am in relation to my previous visit or if I’m even in the same place. I sling the machine gun over my shoulder and take a deep breath. I turn around to the hallway and put on the same bored expression I’ve seen most of these people wearing. Maybe they won’t notice that I’m a foot shorter than just about everybody else.

                As I start to walk, I notice the five doors ahead of me. Two on the left, three on the right. Up ahead, at the far end of the hallway, I can see an intersection that leads off in both directions.

                As I start to walk, the cold air of the hallway really hits me. It’s arctic in here. I pull the jacket around me and zip it up to my neck. I wonder if the cold is for the vampires. I wonder if they’re technically the living dead or something. I ponder the possible variables that could be involved with an animated corpse all the way up to the first door.

                I carefully check behind me when I come to the door. No one’s there, but I see a long hallway behind me with more doors and another intersection in the distance. Searching this place could be more difficult than I expected.

                I try the handle and the door opens. With a quick breath of stupidity, I push on through confidently. I’m staring at a broom closet. I look around the room really fast, spotting something out of place. A small leather bag, maybe the size of a kids backpack, is sitting on one of the shelves. Without thinking, I grab it and sling it over my shoulder. I don’t even bother to check what’s inside.

                I move to shut the door when I hear another door shut. I whirl around and back up into the closet, closing the door almost shut as I hear voices.

                “It will take her some time for a dose to affect.” Comes the familiar, rat-like voice. “I will have to come back and see what she is doing. This may take some time.”

                “Just hurry it up if you can.” Comes Morcean’s voice. “I want to have some answers by nightfall.”

I listen carefully as their footsteps disappear down the hall. I alternate between praying they don’t come back to praying that they don’t notice the absence of the guard by my door. But as their silence affects me, I hear another sound. More footsteps, coming out of Slate’s room. They’re too heavy to be her. It must be her guard.

                I consider the gun in my hands. But I don’t know how to fire one. I mean, it can’t be that hard to shoot, but hitting with it may be a different matter all together. Besides, he’s got a gun too. On top of that, the sound will bring Morcean and every other vampire in the whole building.

                I look around the closet for a second, then look at the tub in the far wall. I think for a moment, looking around the room. I suddenly feel stupid. But with stupidity apparently comes bravery. I turn out of the hall and step broadly into the hallway.

                The guard’s staring right at me.

                “Hey.” I say to him, surprising myself with how casual I sound. I feel like I’m about to break both my knees, they’re shaking so badly. “Can you give me a hand?” I say.

                The guy looks back at the door he’s guarding, then looks at me. “I just need some help with these boxes, man. I’m not big like the rest of you guys or maybe you didn’t notice?” I add with a sarcastic flare. In my head, I’m praying he doesn’t shoot.

                But to my surprise, the guy shakes his head and walks towards me. “Get out of the way.” He says, turning around the closet door. “What boxes?” He asks just before I slam the butt of the machine gun into the back of his head.

                He falls forward, his body collapsing onto the hard cement floor.  I move up next to him again, bringing the machine gun stock down on his face. The blow slams his head against the pavement and he goes motionless.

                I pop open my little bag and take everything this guy’s got on him and stuff it in there. I take his gun and jacket, then drag him into the tub. I look around the closet, seeing some duct tape. I grab it and start the long process of tying him up.

                By the time I’m stepping out of the door, he’s already shouting. But once I shut the door on him, the calming noise of the air conditioning that’s freezing my sweat to my skin obliterates any inclination of noise coming from the closet.

                I look around the hallway once, then move towards the other door. I pull down on the handle and slid inside.

                Slate’s sitting in the far chair; her head tilted back, a string of drool falling from the corner of her mouth. “Slate.” I say with a quiet voice. Her head rolls a little bit and she looks forward. “You okay?” I ask, almost out of habit.

                She stares at me for a moment. “No.” She finally says.

                “It’s going to be okay.” I say, moving around her, looking at her handcuffs. They’re locked. “Crap.” I curse. But then I start digging through pockets. I’m on my fourth when I discover a set of keys. Low and behold, it has a handcuff key. Either this guy is allowed to have a key to these things or has more fun with his evenings than I do.

                “Listen.” I say as I undo her handcuffs. “We’ve got to get out of here.”

                “. . . Okay . . .”

                “Can you walk?” I ask, coming around to her. She looks up at me with bleary eyes, then leans in close, as if that will help her focus. “Crap.” She says with something of a stutter. “Not you.”

                I step back. “What?” I say.

                “You’re . . . use . . . useless.” She says, her head dangling forward from her neck.

                “I am not!” I immediately exclaimed. “I’m saving your life.”

                Her head dangles down for a moment, then she looks up at me. I can see a flash of relevancy cross over her face. Somewhere deep inside, she’s still somewhat coherent. “Others . . .” She manages to get out. I lean in a bit. “Other . . . cities.”

                “The other bio-domes?” I ask. She manages a nod. “We’ve, we’ve got to, to, to help them. Let them . . . know.”

                “Let them know about Morcean.” I say, finishing her sentence. She nods again. “Alright.” I say, kneeling down in front of her. “I’ve got some guns. And a little bit of money. We can get out of here as soon as we get out of here.” I say, confused by my own words. But I shake off the disorientation and move towards Slate. I take her hands and start to pull her up. But her legs are like jelly and she can’t even begin to support herself.

                I drop down low and grab her around her knees. With a step forward, I stand up into her, hefting her up onto my shoulder. She dry coughs, but doesn’t make much else of a sound. Between her, the two guns, and the bag, I’m pretty loaded up. “Listen.” I say as I move towards the door. “I want you to hit me in the back when you’re able to.” I say, opening the door with relative abandon. “Because as soon as you can, then you get to walk.”

                “. . . hit you . . .” Comes her voice as I feel her right hand start to swing a bit. “Got it.”

                I sigh, then take off down the far direction of the hallway.

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