the old adage she'd heard countless times before - it's not the jump off the top of the building that kills you, it's hitting the ground that does it. She managed half a smile but those words were of little help now. Would she feel anything? What would the fall be like? Would she know when she'd hit the ground or would it all be over before then...?
Doreen looked around and watched more bodies continue to pile unsteadily out of the door and onto the roof. They hadn't seemed to notice her yet. They wandered around aimlessly like the empty, soulless vessels they were. She turned her back on them again and looked forward across the town. There was no going back now. Even if she changed her mind, she couldn't get back inside now.
What are my options? Do I do it now or wait for them to get closer to me? Do it now or wait until the last possible second? What will I gain from waiting? Is it worth clinging onto a few more seconds of life? What good will it do me? Do I want to stand here, freezing cold and terrified, trying to keep my balance and not think about those bloody things behind me, or do I just let it happen? Think about finally being able to stop and rest. Think about not having to run and hide...
Doreen closed her eyes, tipped forward and let gravity take over.
'Well?' Elizabeth sobbed. Bushell was pressed against the door, peering through the spy-hole out onto the landing.
'Not good,' he sighed. 'There are too many of them. They know we're in here now.'
Elizabeth began to cry uncontrollably. Proctor attempted to put his arms around her and comfort her but she pushed him away.
'So what do we do now?' Wilcox asked, the strained emotion in his voice clear.
'Can't see that much has changed, really,' Bushell answered, his face still pressed against the door.
'What?'
'I said I can't see that much has changed,' he repeated, turning round to look at the others. 'We're still in here, they're still out there. They're just a little closer than we hoped they'd be at this stage, that's all.'
'So what do we do?' Elizabeth pleaded, desperate for someone to answer.
'Seems to me you've got the same two options you've always had,' he answered, his voice low and resigned. 'You can sit here and wait for the inevitable to happen, or you can run for as long as you can keep going, then stop and then let the inevitable happen anyway.'
'I'm running,' Jones said. He was already edging closer to the door to the fire escape. 'I'm not just going to sit here waiting for them to get in. Fuck that. I'm leaving now...'
'Me too,' Wilcox agreed.
Bushell looked at Proctor and Elizabeth, although he didn't really care what they were going to do. Proctor began to nervously side-step closer to the two men waiting by the fire escape. Elizabeth , struggling to hold herself together, instinctively did the same.
'Come on,' she pleaded. 'Don't stay here. It's suicide.'
'I know,' Bushell smiled, 'but it's suicide on my terms. Why do you all want to keep on running when there's no point? It's not your fault, but can't you see that the game's over?'
'It's not a game,' Jones interrupted angrily.
'I know, I'm sorry,' Bushell said, regretting his choice of words, 'but you don't have to keep fighting. You can choose not to. That's the difference between us in here and those things out there. You can stop and switch off if you want to, they're cursed to keep going until there's nothing left of them.'
'Come on, Barry,' Proctor said quietly.
'I'm not running,' he replied. 'I've had enough.'
Sensing that there was nothing they could do to persuade him otherwise, the four remaining survivors pushed their way through the fire escape door and began their dark descent down towards the ground floor of the hotel.
It was suddenly quiet. Save for the thumping noise coming from the mass of decomposing bodies on the other side of the main door, Bushell's hotel suite was suddenly quiet and empty. More to the point, it was his again. His and his alone. Just how he'd wanted it.
Tearful (he knew he didn't have long) he walked around the vast suite dejectedly, collecting together his things. He salvaged everything that he could from the little that was left and packed it all against the wall of the master bedroom. A sudden sound distracted him. More noise from outside.