The First 30 Days (PUBLISHED)

Seven - Day 4

Climbing that ladder zapped what little strength I had remaining. I tumbled onto the roof gracelessly, grateful to have made the climb instead of falling to certain death below. I hadn't been entirely sure I would make it the last few rungs.

As I lay there panting, I took stock of my situation. I was filthy, exhausted, and starving. A horde of rabid people out on the street wanted to kill me. And I now only had one shoe.

On the bright side, I'd somehow actually made it onto the roof. Those same rabid people didn't seem to know how to climb. And I happened to know that my fellow employees who smoked in this building tended to wedge the door open so they could easily come up here to sneak a smoke. Management sent out emails about it once a week. Emails that everyone chose to ignore week after week.

Groaning, I rolled to my feet. I was going to be sore after using so many new muscles today. And I could add a skinned knee to my list of complaints.

When did that happen?

At least I'd managed to keep my hands on my keys, unlike the scissors from earlier. They were the only possession I still had and I was reluctant to give them up.

Other than a couple of hotels dotting the landscape, and the hospital in the distance, my work building was one of the tallest buildings in the area. The roof was empty except for the lone door and a few huge vents. I had a really great view all around. The noise coming from street level continued to increase.

Looking out, I could easily see that more sick ones were making their way in my direction. Like a snowball rolling down hill, the noise attracted attention, which made more noise, and the crowd was quickly getting bigger. Individual screams were becoming harder to distinguish in the cacophony of sound.

I was hoping that, like Evie and my bathroom, they would eventually lose interest if they couldn't see me.

The rooftop door was a heavy, security conscious thing that automatically locked on this side when shut. As I got closer, the peek of a mangled pack of cigarettes that someone had used to stop the lock eased some of my anxiety. At least I wasn't trapped on the roof.

I eased open the door. The stairwell on the other side was pitch black. Bolstering my courage, I reached inside and felt along the wall where I thought a light switch should be.

Nothing.

My key chain had a tiny flashlight on it. Pressing the button turned on a weak beam of light. Flashing that light all around inside the door, all I could make out was the dingy stairwell disappearing down into darkness. I couldn't see nearly far enough for comfort, but the tiny flashlight would have to do.

Debating with myself for a second, I finally pulled the cigarette pack from the door jam. Just in case someone I didn't want getting into the building made it to the roof. Hopefully, no healthy people found themselves trapped up there, though I doubted that could happen any time soon with the numbers of sick people waiting outside. I stepped inside and let the door swing shut with a solid click.

The blackness in the stairwell was absolute without the sun's light. My flashlight was no match for it, and the already meager beam of light seemed to be losing the battle with the dark. A drop of sweat rolled down my neck as I began descending.

My footsteps echoed in the space no matter how I tried to keep silent. The sound only added to the tension for it's unevenness, one foot's sneaker causing an echo, the other silent in just a sock. Walking around in only one shoe was quickly becoming annoying.

By the time I reached the door that would take me to the top floor, my filthy clothes were drenched in sweat, and my nerves shot. It had been the longest flight of stairs in my life, sure as I was that at any moment someone would rush up from the darkness below. The door out of the stairwell had one of those long, narrow windows in it. A peek through showed me an open floor plan, the space divided by short cubicles.

There didn't seem to be any movement from inside, and the light coming in through the large, tinted windows was a welcome sight. I escaped the nightmare inducing stairwell and stepped into the light.

The well worn beige carpet muffled my steps as I prowled the aisles between the cubicles. Short enough that I could easily see above them clear across the large room, they were tall enough that anyone sitting at the work desks would be hidden. My mind played tricks on me, showing me glittering red eyes in the dark spaces under desks, and convincing me that I heard the roll of desk chairs moving somewhere just out of view.

By the time that I had finished searching the office, I had been sure a dozen times over that someone was in the room with me, only to not be able to find anyone. My circuit of the office had brought me back to the area near the door. The only space left to look was the bathrooms.

The men's room was nearest, so I hesitantly pushed the door open. To my surprise, when the lights came on I found myself in the most utilitarian bathroom I'd ever seen. On the right wall, a row of sinks. On the left, urinals followed by two stalls. It took me all of a half a second to discern that I was the only one in the room.

Backing back out the door, I reached for the women's bathroom. As expected, the women's room was going to take more than a cursory glance to search. The ante room wasn't large. A red day couch and a fake potted tree stood in the corner. A floor length mirror covered the back wall. Other than squeezing behind that couch, there wasn't any place to hide in the room. Not leaving anything to chance, I looked behind the couch before creeping to the next door.

In the bathroom, a row of sinks lined one wall, a row of stalls the other. Every stall door was at least partially closed, causing me anxiety as I moved down the line, bumping each open with the toe of my socked foot. I tried not to think to hard about the fact that I was walking in a public restroom minus a shoe.

The final stall proved to be empty, and I heaved a sigh of relief. The building seemed to be deserted, at least on this floor.

Back out in the office area, I wandered from desk to desk, searching for stashes of junk food that I knew would be in most of the desks. The brief twinge of guilt that I felt at taking the first Snickers bar was quickly buried by my hunger. Before long I had accumulated enough snack food to stuff myself with, and retreated back to the women's bathroom.

The doors to the bathrooms had locks on the inside. Turning the lock, I settled into the couch and wolfed down enough candy to make myself slightly sick. Feeling a little better, completely exhausted, I curled up on the couch and was instantly asleep.

What had to be hours later, I woke up, confused as to why I was sleeping on a restroom couch for several long seconds. Sitting up, the past few days came back to take my breath away. I stumbled to my feet and into the first stall. Still groggy, I splashed some cold water onto my face. It was while I was hanging over the sink, water dripping off of my chin, that I heard the voices outside of the bathroom door.