Omega Days (Volume 1) - By John L. Campbell Page 0,8

in her bed shaking with nervous laughter.

She opened her eyes to see Crystal looking at her hopefully, so she stopped her wishing and tried the phone on one of the desks. Every available line was lit. She dug the phone out of her back pocket and dialed 911. A recording informed her that all operators were busy with other calls, but to hold the line and not hang up.

Crystal walked to the hallway door as Skye redialed, looking out through the smeared glass. “I don’t see her anymore.”

“That doesn’t mean she’s not there.” The recording came on again. “Don’t open the door.”

“I’m not stupid.” She strained to look left and right.

Skye shook her iPhone. She didn’t know anyone in California, had no one to text. She thought about calling her mom or dad’s cell, hoping that maybe… She didn’t, knowing that hearing their cheery, recorded greetings when they didn’t answer would drive her to tears again.

“Is someone going to come for us?” said Crystal. She had stopped crying, at least for now, and for that Skye was grateful. When Crystal cried, she wanted to cry, and then she couldn’t think. Death was all around them, and the killing was still going on. If she stopped thinking, they’d both end up like the woman in the track suit, or worse, like the girl in the hall.

“We’re going to have to take care of ourselves for a while, snot. We have to be smart and quiet, and if we move, we move fast. Got it?”

“I got it. Don’t call me snot.”

Skye smiled at her and went back to the iPhone, looking for a directory. There had to be half a dozen police departments in the area, and they all must have phone numbers other than 911. She sat on the edge of a desk and tapped at the small screen.

Outside, a distant siren wailed and there were more shots, like far-away firecrackers. The screaming was more infrequent now, and Skye tried not to think about what that meant. A few minutes later the dead girl was back thumping against the hallway door, her face wet with fresh blood. Already Crystal had lost her initial fear – a childhood bombarded by gory movie and video game images quickly transformed the ghastly to mundane – and she watched the girl’s jerky movements with curiosity.

Skye found the campus police number. Busy. She dialed the California Highway Patrol, the sheriff’s office, the Berkeley Police Department, all resulting in variations of “please stay on the line” messages. The muffled honking of a car alarm sounded from outside.

“I think if we-”

Skye looked up at her sister’s voice to see the track suit woman standing behind her with glassy eyes. Before she could even speak, the woman sank her teeth into the thirteen-year-old’s neck. Crystal screamed, and the woman grabbed at her, raking fingernails across her cheeks.

Skye rushed her, crying her sister’s name, and punched the woman hard in the face, breaking her nose. The woman growled, released the neck, and bit Crystal in the back of the head. Skye ripped the woman’s hands off her sister and pulled them backwards, retreating to the far end of the office. The woman followed, reaching and stumbling against the long central table.

Crystal was wailing, holding her head and neck, blood escaping in high jets through her fingers where the artery had been torn, curling into a ball on the floor. Skye stood over her, facing the oncoming creature. She spotted a pencil cup on the nearby desk, the black handles of scissors poking out of it, and she snatched them up, holding them high.

The corpse came on, eyes glinting, and Skye let out a snarl of her own as she lunged forward, stabbing with the scissors. The tip plunged into the woman’s eye and the blades sank to the handle. Instantly the dead woman stiffened, and then collapsed, the weight of her fall pulling the scissors from Skye’s hand. The body didn’t move.

“Skye?” Behind her, Crystal was pale, her voice soft, her body no longer trembling. Her Oski the Bear shirt was soaked red, her hair wet and matted, and her eyelids drooped. Skye knelt and gathered her into her arms.

“It’s okay, snot. You’re going to be okay.” Tears burned in her eyes.

Crystal smiled at her. “Don’t call me snot.” Then she died.

Skye cried her name over and over, holding her limp body close, rocking her, sobbing. They stayed that way for some time, one sister holding the cooling body of