“There’s nowhere else,” said Buck. His voice rose to a screech, half pleading, half enraged. Then he shook his head as though resigned. “Fine, do what you want.”
He moved to the hatch and squatted beside it. Then looked at Ken. “But your wife is in here.”
Then he dropped down and disappeared into the black square.
60
Ken’s feet started moving the second he heard Buck say Maggie was in the elevator. It didn’t even occur to him that the man might be lying. Not until he was bent over the darkness, looking down and wondering what the best way would be to get in.
Alive. She’s alive.
He sat on the edge of the hatchway, dangling his legs into darkness. Even knowing Mags was down there, it made his skin crawl to see himself disappear so suddenly and completely.
We’re all going to die.
Unless we give up.
Give in.
Ken realized that he was hearing the growling from the things above. That his thoughts were somehow being coopted by the zombies’ hypnotic howls and rumbles. But it didn’t matter.
He didn’t want to go down there. Not into the darker dark. Not now.
Give up.
He felt something warm at his cheek. Hope had laid her head on his chest, looking up at him – or at the things coming down the cable – and she was moaning, her breath warm on his face. An unnerving smile on her small features. She looked sad and hungry and hopeful and gleeful and afraid all at once.
“Dammit.”
Ken saw Aaron kick something over the side of the elevator. A twitching thing that could have been an arm or a leg and that in any just and right world should not have moved at all. The cowboy turned to look at Dorcas, who was staring at him.
“Buck was right. Nowhere else to go.”
“I don’t want to –“ Dorcas began.
Aaron shook his head. Looked up, then grabbed her around the shoulders and hustled her the few steps across the top of the elevator.
“We don’t have a choice.”
Give up.
Give in.
Give up.
Give in.
The elevator shook as Christopher touched down.
Ken pushed himself off the edge of the hatchway. He fell into darkness once more. Landed and took a stumbling step away, thinking dimly that he had to get out of the way before the others came in.
He was right. He barely moved out of the way before another black figure came into the cab. The form didn’t fall, but was lowered by one arm. Dorcas.
Aaron followed, jumping easily to the floor, his cowboy boots thudding as he landed.
Only Christopher left. And as the young man started to lower himself in Ken realized:
Who would close the escape door? It wouldn’t do much good to run in here and then leave a clear opening for the things to follow.
“Wait –“ he began.
Too late.
Christopher dropped in with a grunt. A thick clunk followed him almost instantly: the sound of metal clacking against metal, of wood and plastic bouncing up and then settling down again just as fast.
He pulled it shut. He pulled the hatch shut.
Ken didn’t feel like rejoicing, though. Because the things that were following the young man had already shown an ability to get through doors. What about closed hatches?
Was it even locked?
Christopher landed in a crouch, still holding Buck’s LED light. He straightened and turned around quickly, illuminating the other survivors.
And Ken finally saw Maggie. She stood beside the closed doors of the elevator, leaning over and around the still-slumped form of Liz. The toddler’s skin looked pale and waxy, and Ken feared the worst. Then he saw a thin stream of spit spill out of his baby’s mouth, catching the light for an instant before it broke off and hit the floor.
He’d never been so happy to see one of his children drooling. Because the dead didn’t produce saliva, did they?
“Maggie,” he said. He supposed he should have shouted it, should have screamed it and leaped across the cab to her. But the word was barely a whisper, and he didn’t move at all.
He was afraid she wasn’t real.
He was afraid he was seeing, not a woman, but a memory. A hope of something gone.
Maggie turned her head. She didn’t look happy to see him; barely looked at him at all. She looked at Buck. “It won’t open,” she said.
“Maggie.” This time he said it a little louder. He managed to take a step toward her, and reached for her.
“Don’t touch me.” She didn’t scream. A scream would have been better. A scream would have splashed all over the inside of the elevator, would have hit everything and everyone and maybe spread some of the venom around. Instead, the words seemed to hit Ken square in the face. He felt like he’d been punched, or like someone had taken a hammer to the bridge of his nose.
Total silence reigned. No one seemed to breathe, as though all that had come before was merely a precursor, a curtain call to this main event.
Ken knew what was happening. You didn’t stay happily married for as long as he had without understanding your spouse. You didn’t understand your spouse without seeing the things they loved. And you didn’t see the things they loved without understanding their deepest fears.
She had seen Derek fall.