I use to be so fragile... so weak.
On the first day of this mess I was at work, a fancy hotel downtown. I was a nobody... unless, of course, you needed your room cleaned or more towels. The only white girl amongst middle aged Latino women. Their ethnicity only matters because of the language barrier. We talked work only because anything else was a chore. I think some of them cared enough but after awhile gave up. I kept to myself and did my job right. They respected me and made working there worth-while but I still felt unnoticed. I was a ghost before the shit hit the fan. In hindsight I saw red flags of the apocalypse hitting, weeks before I saw my first zombie. I listened to an abundance of NPR and the stories all seemed to be talking about the same thing: Infection.
That's all they called it-- Infection. No fancy name or even a true explanation of how the Infected became exposed to Infection. Infection started popping up in Middle America the same way Mad Cow Disease made everyone more paranoid but not any more careful. The only thing I could gather about Infection was that you could catch it at the hospital... and everyone could get it. From ICU to itty-bitty babies. Anyone with Infection had 3 weeks, then eventually 2 weeks, then just days. Because of the slow transition the dead ended up being buried at first, before the second symptom of Infection became realized. No press release was ever made about the second symptom, reanimation, until much later... when it was too late.
The first red flag of the coming apocalypse, I now realize, was the people flooding into town because a loved one was transported to our hospitals, "No reports of Infection have been from your hospital, so we drove Billy here to be treated" they'd say. The hotel was at 100% and overbooked for two solid months. Everyone was crazy. People quit and were begged to at least finish out their two weeks. That's when it got ugly... with the hotel full we had over 1,100 guests and over 250 employees in the building at all times. We had people camping out in the hallways and our restaurant was out of orange juice and hot tea every two days. The sick were spilling into our hotel because the hospitals had no room. The CDC was called and we began washing the hotel linens three times total and with some extra strength anti-bacterial products given to us by the CDC. At some point the Governor shut off our water for a few days because it was feared that it been contaminated by a dead Infected that was caught floating in a lake, fifty miles upstream from our city water supply.
I saw my first zombie while still on the clock, on the 11th floor of the hotel. A smell had developed in the guest quarters of the hotel. It was a mix of dried flowers and Clorox. No one seemed to notice it but me. The smell made me dizzy and nauseous. I had taken to wearing my chemical face mask as soon as I entered the building and wouldn't remove it until I was in my car at the end of the day. I was doing my normal rounds, three sets of three loud knocks before entering a room and loudly announcing myself as I enter a room. It's protocol. It's what saved my life.
Three firm knocks, no answer.
Three heavier knocks, no answer.
Three very prominent knocks, no answer.
The silence acquiesced my way into the room. I slid my digital skeleton key into the slot. Two blinks yellow, one blink green. I opened the door, my heart thumping and my breathing loud due to the mask. The smell of death hit me hard and my eyes began to water. I took a step back and pressed my spine against the entry door. I had heard rumors of the morning staff entering a room to find a corpse awaiting them. Was it my turn? I heard a gurgling noise coming from the bathroom, "Fresh linens!" I said to the gurgling noise "Fresh Linens!" I said again, a little louder to the half opened bathroom door. My back firmly against the door and my hand resting on the door knob. The bathroom door slowly swung open to reveal a bloody torso that resembled a hunk of meat. I blinked until I forced myself to acknowledge what I was seeing was real.
A small girl, about the age of seven or eight. looked up at me with one bloody hand pulling the door back to see me. Nothing happened, we just stared at each other. I was petrified and motionless. She looked past me and I questioned if I were actually a ghost all these years after all. A gasp escaped my lips, muffled from the paper mask across my face. The little girl suddenly grew very interested in me. The same gurgling noise I had heard earlier now leaking out of this tiny framed girl, the iris of each eye submerged in a milky haze. As she got to her feet blood oozed out of her sagging, open mouth. I quickly opened the door and let myself out. I was on the opposite side of the door pressing my back against it once more. I slumped over and slid to my knees, letting the panic attack flood over me. Even over my labored breathing amplified by the mask I could hear little fingernails pawing at the door and her little body limply pressing against it. I got to my feet and searched for my bag I always hid in my laundry cart. I unearthed my keys and quickly walked to the service elevators. I abandoned my cart, pressing it against the door and putting a DO NOT DISTURB sign on the knob. I could still hear the little girl flinging her body against the door and that god-awful gurgling noise as the elevator doors closed. I gripped my keys like a knife. O yeah, that's right. I dug out the pocket knife I had in my bag and opened it at the ready.
The elevator doors opened to reveal Tim, the bell hop, one hand resting on an empty luggage cart. It only took a couple seconds for the bell hop to realize I had a six inch blade pointed in his direction.
"Whoa, Pretty lady! Put that thing away!" He waved his hands in front of him in peace.
"I'm leaving and you should do the same." Was all I said as I pushed passed him.
I didn't even make it out of the parking garage before my cellphone started ringing. I answered, it was my boss explaining that although carrying a knife at work is against policy they would gladly do whatever it takes to get me to finish my shift, in the very least.
"Go home. Go home to your family and barricade yourself inside. Do it now before it's too late.... O, and call the cops, there has been a murder in room 1157." Click.
I never did find out what happened to that little girl.
