close callMature

There was a sudden shot of adrenaline that made its way up his spine, his body had realised the danger that he was in and gave him that extra boost that could be the difference between life and death. He sprinted for the exit, all ideas of sneaking by unnoticed gone, now it was simply a matter of running for his life. He could hear the gargled cries of the infected behind him; it could not be described as entirely human as they seemed to be chocked on bile and other fluid that the infected oozed from their mouths.

At most fifteen seconds, fifteen seconds to reach the door, open it, and run. Fifteen seconds, how can a life be determined on its actions in that time, and what could you do with fifteen seconds? Open a god damn door. He pushed this philosophical question from his mind, he had no time to have a deep thought, simply the thoughts that wear relevant and would ensure his survival, all other thoughts were a distraction, and if you get distracted even for a second you are dead,” no second chances.” He whispered under his breath.    

He reached the exit, within maybe for seconds, now he had at best eleven seconds.  His hands searched for the bar that would open the door, they shot franticly all over the door, in sheer desperation to find it, and his life depended on their success. Finally they found it. He pushed with some force onto the bar, but it must have not been used or oiled, for it was stiff.

“You have got to be kidding.” He shouted with both sarcasm and anger present in his tone.  

He pushed once more, this time with more force, but still it was no good. He was annoyed at himself, even before all this he was weak, and the week of living on whatever food he came across had not helped, as he was now fatigued. He took a step back, five seconds now, he could hear there rushing footsteps heading towards him, their screams had grown louder; even their smell had grown in its potency as they approached.

He risked a glance over his shoulder. Even though it was dark, his eyes had grown more accustomed to it, so he could see reasonably well into the darkness. He saw the outline of one of them; it looked like a man, around 5, 6   and probably would have been in his early 20’s. One of his eyes had been gouged out; most likely it happened when he was attacked by one of the infected, which has ultimately lead him to become one of them.  His clothes resembled taters more than anything else, scratched and ripped, and any skin that was shown was covered in bruises and cuts, some so deep you could have seen his intestines in a better light.

He turned his head back to the exit, and he readied himself to kick the bar, and with all the strength he could muster. He kicked the bar, and it moved, and the door swung open. And immediately the alarm was raised.  There was a gush of fresh air, and it seemed to sweep away the putrefaction of the infected. In a sigh of relief he muttered, “Thank fuck for that.”

The End

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