I tell all this to Hunter.
Maybe the hotel is in lockdown, too. The elevators locked, the army waiting in the lobby at the multiple points of exit or entry, and an orderly, safe, manageable quarantine and screening area.
“It makes sense,” Hunter agrees. “Too bad we can’t get there.”
“But we can!” My voice is a hiss, so I open another water bottle. “All we have to do is try to reunite with the others. With my friends Imani and Siggy and the rest who ran to the stairwell. And then the stairwell is already clear, I know that much, so we go back up to the second floor and then we make a break for it.”
“A few little hurdles,” Hunter says, and his voice is gentle, like he doesn’t want to be mean or deflating.
“Go ahead.” I take another drink.
“First, can you ‘make a break for it’? With your leg?”
I flex my toes, rotate my ankle, and lift my knees.
“Yes,” I say, ignoring the discomfort. “Absolutely.”
“Okay,” Hunter continues. “Second hurdle, Cuellar. What if he won’t let us in?”
I shake my head, although I guess he knows how Cuellar is better than anyone.
“He will,” I say. “And if he doesn’t, Imani and Siggy will. They’ll have our backs.”
Hunter nods.
“And if no one is there and the door is locked I have this.” I hold up the hex key. “It can open a disabled crash bar.”
Hunter shakes his head, but he doesn’t say anything about the possibility of no one being there, of the door being locked.
He clears his throat.
“Last hurdle,” he says, and he looks away from the screens into my eyes. His gaze is powerful, the green of his eyes pulling at me, like gravity.
“How do we get to the stairwell without the zombies getting us? Like, where even is that second . . . group? Herd? What is the collective noun for a group of zombies?”
“I know!” I whisper. “I’ve been wondering the same thing. I’d think a devouring but that doesn’t really trip off the tongue.”
“Sounds good though, a devouring of zombies.”
“Yeah. How about a shamble?”
“Doesn’t sound scary enough. A hunger?”
“Nah, sounds like a good snack would fix them.”
“I’ve got it, June,” Hunter says, and he smiles at me. “A killing of zombies.”
I try it out.
“A killing of zombies.” I smile.
I like it because it’s scary, but it also sounds like not just something they do, but something we can do.
“So how do we clear the hallway so that we can reach the stairwell door?” Hunter asks.
“I have an idea for that,” I say.
26
This is so dangerous. So dangerous. This is dangerous, dangerous, dangerous,” I chant, because it is, but I’m doing it anyway.
Because we can’t just stay here forever, and we have a place to go, and then another place to get to.
The stairwell for Imani and Siggy and Simon and Janet and the others, and then the hamster tube.
I mean, assuming they’re all stuck in the stairwell the way we’ve been stuck here. But if they’ve moved to another floor, I’m hoping we can follow them somehow.
Either way, it’s better than hiding under the desk in the security booth.
Assuming this plan works.
“This is such a bad idea,” I whisper to myself, a goad but more just fear, plain fear, the edge of panic, and acknowledging it makes me feel a little less . . .
Panicked.
What I’m doing is carting the small, old-fashioned radio out to the front of the atrium.
Then I’m going to put it on the ledge of the fountain and turn it on. The zombies will be drawn to the sound and we’ll make a break for it.
So far, they haven’t seen me.
So far, it’s working.
So far, so good.
Before I can turn on the radio, though, it all goes