Read Online What Once We Feared by Carrie Ryan - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Carrie Ryan
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thoroughly broken.
No one was getting in through the garage.
Once we were all piled in one of the two marble and wood elevators, Nicky had to use a special electronic key to access the penthouse level. When she pressed the “P” button Felipe whistled. “Fancy girl, eh?”
She rolled her eyes at him. I remember that so distinctly because I’d been thinking how glad I was that he was such an ass because it made me look better by comparison.
Of course, that only lasted until we reached the top floor and the elevator doors opened.Nicky stepped out into the vestibule first, without even pausing to look around, and I grabbed her hand before she could take off down one of the dim, carpeted hallways.
“What are you doing?” I hissed in her ear. “What if it’s not safe?”
Beatrice muffled a cry by pushing her palm against her mouth, and even Felipe’s face paled. On either side of us a hallway stretched between the other apartments. Gregor took off to the left, but the floor must have been configured in a square or something, because a minute or two later he came sprinting back from the right. “Everything’s clear,” he reported. The corridors were silent, empty.
“Yeah, but for how long?” Felipe asked.
As if in response one of the elevator engines kicked in, and it whisked away from our floor down into the bowels of the building. There was a distant ding and then the sound of the elevator starting its climb back up.
I held my breath, hoping it stopped before reaching us, and thought of all those people out in the city. They were going to run somewhere, and this place would look pretty good, with its thick walls and proximity to Uptown. It was the closest thing to a fortress our city had.
“Unless we’re the ones who called for it,” Nicky whispered, “Whoever it is would need to have a key to get to this floor.”
Beatrice finally spoke up. “They … those things … can’t …”—she moved her hand in the air as if it could talk for her—“like, think, can they? You know, press buttons and stuff like that?”
It’s funny how long it took us to start using the word
zombie
. For the longest time we just called them “they” or “those things,” because
zombie
was a word that existed in games and movies. It felt stupid saying it, always coming out with a kind of “shit, can you believe I’m actually using this word?” laugh.
“We shouldn’t wait to find out,” Felipe suggested, already easing down the hallway. He tugged on Nicky’s sleeve and she shrugged him off.
“It could be my
dad
,” she said, emphasizing that last word. Felipe flicked his eyes at me,like I was somehow in control of the situation. But none of that mattered because the elevator dinged and my stomach turned over on itself as the doors slid open.
I don’t know who was more surprised—us or him. There was a moment where it felt like it could be a normal day and this normal guy with graying hair was getting home from work with his suit a little rumpled, his tie loose around his neck.
But then I saw where his sleeve was torn and how he held his hand against his stomach. There was blood. A
lot
of blood.
It’s not like he could think we wouldn’t see it, and for a second he had a guilty look on his face. Almost panicked, even. But then he must have remembered that he was an adult and we were just a bunch of teenagers, because he pushed past us and strode down the dim hallway, his keys rattling in his bloody fingers.
And it worked. We stood there like dumb kids and let him do what he wanted, because seriously, who were we to stop him?
Then, to add to our stupefied uselessness, the elevator doors began to slide closed and I couldn’t get there in time to stop them. I started pounding the button, trying to call it back. The call light lit up, but I was too late. Behind the double doors, the engine hummed and wires whisked the little cage back down into the building.
There would be more coming—more
No one was getting in through the garage.
Once we were all piled in one of the two marble and wood elevators, Nicky had to use a special electronic key to access the penthouse level. When she pressed the “P” button Felipe whistled. “Fancy girl, eh?”
She rolled her eyes at him. I remember that so distinctly because I’d been thinking how glad I was that he was such an ass because it made me look better by comparison.
Of course, that only lasted until we reached the top floor and the elevator doors opened.Nicky stepped out into the vestibule first, without even pausing to look around, and I grabbed her hand before she could take off down one of the dim, carpeted hallways.
“What are you doing?” I hissed in her ear. “What if it’s not safe?”
Beatrice muffled a cry by pushing her palm against her mouth, and even Felipe’s face paled. On either side of us a hallway stretched between the other apartments. Gregor took off to the left, but the floor must have been configured in a square or something, because a minute or two later he came sprinting back from the right. “Everything’s clear,” he reported. The corridors were silent, empty.
“Yeah, but for how long?” Felipe asked.
As if in response one of the elevator engines kicked in, and it whisked away from our floor down into the bowels of the building. There was a distant ding and then the sound of the elevator starting its climb back up.
I held my breath, hoping it stopped before reaching us, and thought of all those people out in the city. They were going to run somewhere, and this place would look pretty good, with its thick walls and proximity to Uptown. It was the closest thing to a fortress our city had.
“Unless we’re the ones who called for it,” Nicky whispered, “Whoever it is would need to have a key to get to this floor.”
Beatrice finally spoke up. “They … those things … can’t …”—she moved her hand in the air as if it could talk for her—“like, think, can they? You know, press buttons and stuff like that?”
It’s funny how long it took us to start using the word
zombie
. For the longest time we just called them “they” or “those things,” because
zombie
was a word that existed in games and movies. It felt stupid saying it, always coming out with a kind of “shit, can you believe I’m actually using this word?” laugh.
“We shouldn’t wait to find out,” Felipe suggested, already easing down the hallway. He tugged on Nicky’s sleeve and she shrugged him off.
“It could be my
dad
,” she said, emphasizing that last word. Felipe flicked his eyes at me,like I was somehow in control of the situation. But none of that mattered because the elevator dinged and my stomach turned over on itself as the doors slid open.
I don’t know who was more surprised—us or him. There was a moment where it felt like it could be a normal day and this normal guy with graying hair was getting home from work with his suit a little rumpled, his tie loose around his neck.
But then I saw where his sleeve was torn and how he held his hand against his stomach. There was blood. A
lot
of blood.
It’s not like he could think we wouldn’t see it, and for a second he had a guilty look on his face. Almost panicked, even. But then he must have remembered that he was an adult and we were just a bunch of teenagers, because he pushed past us and strode down the dim hallway, his keys rattling in his bloody fingers.
And it worked. We stood there like dumb kids and let him do what he wanted, because seriously, who were we to stop him?
Then, to add to our stupefied uselessness, the elevator doors began to slide closed and I couldn’t get there in time to stop them. I started pounding the button, trying to call it back. The call light lit up, but I was too late. Behind the double doors, the engine hummed and wires whisked the little cage back down into the building.
There would be more coming—more
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