PODs (43 page)

“We’ll wait until dusk and try again,” David told me, removing the toothpick from where he left it and opening the hatch for me.

I heard scratching first, and then the banging started. The hatch didn’t move when they hit it, but the noise was unbearable. The clanging of the metal door was ear-piercing and made my breath hitch in my throat. My hands started to shake and I mentally checked off everything David and I had done after we returned to the POD.

David opened the hatch for me and I climbed down onto the small ramp leading to the ladder next to the elevator. I waited for David to climb through the hatch and I grabbed the wheel, pulling the door closed after him… then what did I do? Did I turn it to bolt it? I don’t remember turning the wheel
.

Cold sweat slithered down my spine. “They’re at the hatch,” I whispered. “David, I don’t think I locked it. They don’t usually come out during the day, and we were going back out. I don’t think I locked it when we came in! I don’t think it’s locked!”

“It’s okay. They won’t be able to get in the sub-POD.”

“David! We won’t be able to get out. Even if they can’t find which sub-POD we’re in, they can stay in the main POD and wait us out. There’s no other way for us to get out of here.”

They clanged against the hatch at a deafening rate. One after another they hit the door…
bang…bang…bang
. Every time one of them hit, my stomach lurched painfully. Bile rose in the back of my throat, burning it.

If they get in here, we’re trapped. Dead. dinner…or worse. We’ll be turned into them, a fate worse than death. I’d rather they killed me
.

David stood looking at the floor. He was silent so long I didn’t think he was going to answer me. I was just about to shake him and scream at him to do something—anything—when he looked up, his face grim.

“You’re right. We need to check the hatch. I’ll climb up the ladder and—”

“Like hell you will!” I grabbed his arm when he moved toward the ladder. “If it’s unlocked, they could open it any second. You aren’t going to be sitting up there when they do. No way.”

He gestured around the POD. “Well, we can’t stay here, Eva.”

“No kidding.” My voice shook and cracked when I talked. “Let’s move before they get that hatch open.”

“Okay, but we should set a trap first.” He grabbed the meat out of the sub-POD freezer, leftovers from the last hunting party before Devlin and the rest left the PODs. “Come on, Eva. We have to move fast. Grab the meat—as much as you can carry.”

We ran down the corridor to the main POD, leaving a trail of meat behind us. I could hear the infected scurrying above the hatch, looking for a way in.

The scraping and pounding got louder the closer we got to the entrance to the main POD. I stopped and looked at David.

“Eva, come on!”

“Do you think they’re this stupid? That they’ll follow a trail of dead meat? It’s frozen, David! You told me they like living animals.”

“We don’t have anything living to bait a trap with. Get moving.”

“Yes, we do,” I whispered.

I yanked my small pocketknife out of my jeans pocket. I turned and ran down the corridor back to the entrance of the sub-POD. My fingers shook, bobbing up and down as I ran. I could barely get the small blade open.

I heard David curse and run after me.

“Go back, David. I’ll be right behind you.”

I slid to a stop in front of the sub-POD door, my shoes squeaking loudly against the metal floor. Without giving myself time to think, I plunged the knife into my arm. Warm, sticky blood gushed from the wound. It trailed down my arm and dripped off my fingertips, forming a small pool at my feet. I walked as slowly as I dared back to where David stood.

“What the hell, Eva?”

I shrugged. “Fresh meat. Here, give me your shirt. I need to wrap my arm. I can’t bleed on the floor any more. It’ll lead them right to us.” He pulled his shirt over his head and wrapped it tightly around my arm. “Let’s find a storage locker or somewhere to hide.”

“No. Your scent will lead them right to you. You have to get as far away from this corridor as possible. We only want them to smell the blood on the floor, not on your arm.”

“Where then?”

“One of the sub-PODs on the other side of the main POD. You can hide in one of the bedroom closets. When they follow your blood trail to the sub-POD, I’ll lock them in. Then I’ll come back and get you.”

I shook my head. “No—”

“Yes. You can’t be out here. You’re bleeding too badly. Look, you’ve almost bled through my shirt. Take your shirt off.”

“Why David, are you getting fresh with me?” My voice trembled and my teeth chattered.

Why are my teeth chattering? Is it shock? Fear? Both? Do I care? No. Pay attention, Eva
.

“C’mon, Eva, be serious,” David said.

“Geez, you can’t take a joke.”

He reached forward and ripped open the front of my t-shirt. Standing in just my bra and jeans, I watched him tie my shirt around my arm, pulling it tight. I could almost feel the blood seeping through the fabric of David’s shirt and into mine.

“Okay, let’s find you a sub-POD.”

“No.”

“We don’t have time for your stubborn streak, Eva. Let’s go.”

He pulled on my good arm. I jerked away from him.

“I’m not leaving you here to fight them alone.”

“Well, you can’t stay. C’mon.”

I followed him down the hall. Our shoes made dull thuds against the framework of the walkway. The metal shimmied and shook, scraping against the wall. The sound gave me chills.

The infected banged at the POD, their clubs—baseball bats? tree branches?—bouncing off the hatch, which rattled with every impact. My heart beat painfully in my chest. It was hard to take a breath.

“David, the greenhouse! We can go into the greenhouse and watch them through the glass door. When they enter the corridor, we can lock them in.”

“No.”

“What do you mean
no
?”

“You can’t go out there with your arm. The greenhouse is a good place to hide. There are a lot of different smells inside to mask the smell of your blood, but if you come out they’ll smell your wound. You have to stay inside the greenhouse.”

I nodded once. We ran to the greenhouse, pulling the heavy glass door closed behind us.

“Listen, Eva. When I leave, I want you to lock this door. Don’t unlock it until you see me.”

“Okay,” I said, my voice strained.

We huddled down next to the stack of weeding baskets and hand tools we’d left by the door, hoping its shadow would hide our silhouettes. David used his hand to wipe away a small area of condensation—just big enough that we could look through.

“The banging stopped,” I whispered. “Maybe they left.” Then I heard it. The unmistakable sound of the hatch hinges creaking open. “Oh. I guess not.” My insides shook. “David?”

“Yeah?”

“Kiss me.”

He put his finger under my chin and lifted my face upward toward his. He touched his lips softly to mine. He pulled back and smoothed some hair from my face, pushing it behind my ear.

“I’m scared,” I said, barely a whisper.

“I know, Eva. I am, too.” He kissed me again, stopping when we heard the first grunt in the main POD.

“How ironic would it be if we died in the very place that was supposed to save us?” I let out a half-hysterical giggle.

Feet shuffled down the ladder. We could hear the grunts and groans, and then the screams of the infected echoed against the metal walls.

Through the wiped spot in the condensation, I watched the first man step off the ladder. His weapon—it looked to be a two-by-four—bounced along the metal floor grating as he dragged it across the room. Another, and then another, and another came down the ladder—seventeen in all. Some were unarmed, but most had bats or clubs of some kind.

“There are so many.”

“Mm-hmm,” David said.

“What are you thinking?” I turned to look at him, pulling his face to me so I could see his eyes.

“I’m hoping they take your bait.”

The group of infected wandered around the large room in the main POD. Occasionally they’d disappear into other rooms, but always returned to the main room. I held my breath. My chest hurt from lack of oxygen.

Through the foggy glass we watched as one of the infected came closer to the glass door of the greenhouse. David and I slid back, away from the glass. The blood rushed behind my ears so loudly that I almost couldn’t hear the infected rattling the door. It grunted and groaned with the effort.

I put my hands over my mouth to hold in any sound. Pulling my knees to my chest and laying my head on them, I faced the door and watched the infected look for a way inside. David wrapped his arms around me, squeezing me to him.

The infected pulled at the door, which shimmied in response. It pulled harder. The door clanged, moving against the metal doorjamb. The infected raised its weapon—a tire iron.

It’s gonna hit the glass
.

I leaned into David, grabbing his arms.
We’re dead. If it breaks the glass
…

Please, please, please don’t break
.

It pulled back, ready to swing.

Just go away…go away!

Something caught its attention. It turned its head and dropped its arms, mid-swing. The tire iron connected with the glass with a small tap. The infected turned and shuffled away.

I felt David let out a breath. The room spun around me. I didn’t feel as though I could breathe. It was as if I’d held my breath so long my body had forgotten how.

“Eva,” David whispered, shaking me gently. I dropped my hands from my mouth and gulped in a huge lungful of air. “That was too close.”

“Yeah. They’ve been here too long. They aren’t falling for it, David.” An edge of panic crept into my voice.

“Look.” He nodded his head at the sub-POD entry. “They found it. That’s what drew the infected away from the greenhouse door.”

The group congregated at the opening of the sub-POD. A few of them took tentative steps into the corridor. When nothing happened, they ventured further inside. Others followed. Soon they were all in the corridor, visible as a collection of shuffling, dark shadows.

“I have to go now. I need to collapse it before they get to the end of the blood trail.”

I nodded. I couldn’t trust my voice to speak. A tear escaped my eye. David brushed it away with the pad of his thumb. He kissed me quickly and slipped out the door.

I watched him move across the room toward the sub-POD. My gaze moved from David to the opening and back again. Through the foggy glass, I saw the moment we had a problem.

As David moved toward the sub-POD corridor, an infected man turned, his pale face eerie in the dark corridor. He watched David for a millisecond before running down the corridor toward him. David started sprinting for the opening. My heart raced as I watched the two men running toward each other. “Run, run, run,” I whispered. My hands slick with sweat, I balled them into fists, my fingernails digging painfully into my palms.

David was almost to the sub-POD corridor. All he needed to do was pull the red lever, and the corridor would collapse, killing the infected inside. He reached the metal box containing the shut-off lever. The infected man was nearly to the end of the corridor.

David pulled his elbow back and jammed it through the glass door of the box. He reached for the lever. The infected man reached out of the corridor for him. David’s fingers wrapped around the lever. The infected man’s hand grabbed for David’s arm.

“Screw this.” I jumped up, grabbed a garden spade, and was out of the greenhouse before I gave myself time to think.

I heard the lever click into place when David pulled it. The sound of the metal collapsing was deafening. The screams of the infected pierced my ears—like they were in a Coke can someone was crushing between their hands.

“David?” I called.

“Eva! Get in the greenhouse and lock the door.”

He got out. The infected man wasn’t in the corridor. He got out before the doors closed
.

I walked around the ladder. I saw David standing beside the lever, his right hand still gripping it. I walked closer. The infected man stood in front of David. Drool dripped from its mouth, and it made soft snorts and grunts. A grotesque smile showed blue gums against yellowing teeth.

David
.

I reached over and tore the shirts from my arm, making sure the blood was still flowing enough to attract the infected man’s attention. It didn’t take long. I’d barely dropped the shirts on the floor when his head snapped in my direction. The blood ran down my arm.

“Come on,” I yelled. I shook my arm, sending droplets of blood through the air. The infected man ran toward me, a scream on his lips.

David yelled, “Eva!”

I love you. Trust me. I have this
.

The man rushed me.

When he was close enough that I could smell his body odor and the stench of rotting meat on his breath, I lifted my other arm and plunged the garden spade into the side of his neck. Blood spurted from the wound, running down the man’s arm and chest, spraying across the room and down my arm. The man’s screams turned to gurgled cries. He stood in front of me, his hands at his throat, looking in my eyes for what seemed like minutes before his body crumpled. His blood flowed through the grates in the floor, dripping onto the metal floor beneath.