This Would Be Paradise (Book 2)-A Zombie Novel

Chapter 31

Roy rushed into the building like an idiot.

"Roy!" John yelled, following quickly behind him.

The glass from the broken door crunched under our feet as we ducked under the metal bar of the door. There was no one in the entrance, alive or otherwise. I heard Roy gasp and ran down the hall to the rec-room.

"Bailey, maybe you should stay there," John instructed, holding his arm out.

I pushed his arm away and turned the corner. Blood, copious amounts of it, was the first thing I saw. Blood was sprayed all over the walls like an unfinished morbid mural. The source: the fallen bodies sprawled around the room. But there were no ragged infected among the bodies.

"This was done by people," John muttered as he kneeled down to look at one of the fallen elderly ladies. "They've been either shot in the head or butchered with what looks like machetes judgin' from the wounds."

"Holy shit," was my reply.

The image of the family I found back at the hardware store when I was with Chloe came to mind. Gore and carnage not at the hands of the infected. In a roundabout way, the infected were to blame. If they hadn't taken over, this probably wouldn't have happened. But more concerning, was thinking about who was directly to blame for this. Was this the work of the mercenaries? Why would they have come back? To avenge Tim?

There was a thud from the floor above us and Roy took off up the stairs. We rushed right behind him, John yelling at Roy to slow down. The hallway on the second floor was empty except for the body lying in the doorway of one of the apartments. The thud sounded again, louder this time, from one of the rooms at the end of the hall. Before Roy could sprint away, John latched onto Roy's shoulder.

"Listen, we don't know what's in there. For all we know, whoever did this, could still be in there. Calm. Down," John demanded.

Roy shook off John's grasp, but didn't immediately take off. Carefully, we made our way to the closed door with our weapons raised.

"Roy, you open the door and get outta the way. I'll stand in front with my rifle ready to go," John instructed.

Roy nodded and put his back flush against the wall beside the door. He reached for the knob and quickly shoved the door open. John took a step towards the entrance. Nothing flew out of the room; no bullets sailed through the air. But banging started from inside the apartment.

John jerked his head, motioning for me to follow. He entered the room, checking all the corners for movement. I felt like we were a SWAT team sweeping a drug den. I could hear the noise coming from behind one of the bedroom doors.

John reached shoved open the door and backed up, only to have the door slammed shut again.

"There must be an infected in there," John said as he readied his gun to shoot.

"Wait! What if it's not an infected? Just some scared person?" I asked.

John clearly didn't think that was the case, but he listened to me anyways.

"If anyone is in there, identify yourself," John yelled.

All we got for an answer was harder rattling against the inside of the door.

"I don't think the thing in there is alive," John said. "I'm gonna open it and hold the infected between the door and the wall. You go in and shoot it."

I nodded just as he placed his hand back on the knob and burst through the door. I ran in right behind him and went a few feet into the room. The light was dull and only coming from the window, but I could see the infected squished behind the door, its grabbing hands swinging at me. Its teeth ground together as it struggled to free itself from John's trap. I raised my Beretta and shot it in the forehead.