Resurrection Hour - Hidden in Ice(Nanowrimo)

Chapter Twenty-five

Hannah froze as Flynn's thin frame half-filled the doorway, his eyes white and his jaw slack. His skin as pale as the dead. "Flynn," she gasped, then slapped her hands over her mouth. She couldn't stop his name from slipping out. He moved lightning fast and was on her in a second. She shoved her forearm under his chin as he snapped at her, dark-colored drool dripping out of his mouth.

"Flynn, stop!" she cried, as his teeth came dangerously close to her face. "Please, if any part of you is still in there, you gotta fight it. Please." Oh god. He was like a zombie. They were right. Her heart raced as she fought to keep him away from her, her stomach churning.

From the corner of her eye, she saw a paint can and struggled to reach it, pressing against Flynn with her other arm. She grunted as she tried to do two things at once. Her panties dampening as she peed a little from the excursion. Snagging the handle of the can, she swung it at his head. It connected with his scalp with a sickening crack, and he rolled off her. He hit the shelf, and it banged into the wall before falling forward on top of him.

She scrambled out of the way, taking cover in the corner, with her legs pulled to her chest, out of his snapping range. Black ooze poured out of the dent in his scalp, but it didn't seem to faze him. "I'm sorry," she whimpered, her heart aching for her friend as she reached for the can again, bringing it down on his head.

That stopped him. But it certainly didn't stop the acid in her stomach rising into her throat. She had to get out of there. Scrambling over the shelving unit, Hannah burst through the open doorway and around the corner. Away from where his body lay and rested her hands on her knees, lightheaded and dizzy. Did she really just do that? She couldn't have...couldn't have just killed her best friend.

"Oh god," Hannah gagged, her mouth filling with bitter bile. Please, no. No. She had to be dreaming. Stuff like that didn't happen in the world. It's not scientifically possible. People weren't supposed to come back from the dead. As she leaned over, struggling with her desire to puke, she heard a noise behind her.

Spinning around, her vision blacked out momentarily, her stomach rolling uncomfortably. When her vision returned, there was Judith, ten feet away from her with her head lopsided and sinew hanging down from her rotting wound. This was so not happening. Finally, Hannah found her feet and took off down the hall and saw Cheryl coming towards her.

"Run," Hannah yelled, pointing behind her to Judith. When she reached Cheryl, she grabbed her hand, and they both raced down the hall towards the stairs.

"What's going on. What are they?"

"Hell if I know," Hannah responded, her voice breathless and uncertain. She glanced back over her shoulder and breathed a sigh of relief when Judith was still way down the hall. Pulling her card out of her pocket, she swiped it on the stairs, but the light blinked red. "Damn it! Work already." She swiped it again, with the same results.

"Oh god. They put us in lockdown, didn't they? We're going to die." Cheryl shoved her hands into her hair as she spun in a circle, looking down both hallways, fear rampant in her eyes. "We're going to die!"

"No, we aren't," Hannah said adamantly, as she pressed her vocera. "Call Xavier."

"Xavier Bishop is not available right now. Do you want to leave a message?"

"No. Call Security."

No answer. How could no one be answering? Were they having trouble in other parts of the station too? To her knowledge, it was just Flynn and Judith that were affected. She tried again, but it was more of the same.

"She's coming," Cheryl cried, tugging on Hannah's shirt.

Turning around, she saw Judith closing the distance between them. A doctor stepped out of a lab just as Judith passed by the window. He didn't even have time to respond before she tore into his hand.