“Don’t make a sound.”
“What part of ‘don’t make a sound’ went over your head?” Jack covered Greta’s mouth. Greta licked Jack’s hand.
When they left Greta’s apartment, the hallways had been empty, deserted almost. The lights flickered intermittently. No sound, not even from the apartment of the usually obnoxiously loud neighbors. Jack, Greta, and Gumbo continued on their way to the elevators, but they were out. They had to take the stairs. The stair lights were out. The stairwell was as quiet as it was black.
It was quiet the way down, only the sound of their shoes tapping against the cement and Gumbo’s purring. “I keep expecting you to poke me or something,” Greta said, her voice echoing in the empty stairwell. “You know, try and scare me.”
“I won’t,” Jack said. Greta was even less reassured by his response. They reached the exit and Greta immediately longed for the darkness again. The lobby was crawling with infected, some she even recognized.
“They’re infected,” Jack said, uncovering his hand from Greta’s mouth. “They look… ravenous.” Greta’s eyes widened, remembering the bloody, viscera charged scene at her work. “We can’t go under them….” Jack sung in a ghostly tone. “We can’t go over them….” Greta swallowed. “No I’m joking, there’s a service exit over here somewhere. We can easily avoid them.”