Waking the Zed - By ML Katz Page 0,19
in a laboratory room like this but she guessed somebody must have dropped it off here and forgotten about it. It hardly seemed like much of a weapon but she supposed it might be better than nothing. A good rap from the heavy handle might get a creature to think twice about attacking her. It’s a lousy weapon, but it’s all I have.
Feeling frightened, and slightly ridiculous, she picked up the umbrella and returned to the hallway. Previously, she had always emerged from a work room or laboratory to see a few workers or scientists heading from place to place. But just then she looked left and right down an empty corridor.
As she turned the corner, she saw more smears of blood on the walls and a reddish-brown pool on the floor. This had to be more blood than George could possibly have lost from one puncture wound in his arm. The punctures did not even seem that deep. There was blood on his shirt sleeve but not that much. To produce this much blood, George’s clothes would have surely been soaked.
As Pam walked down the corridor she noticed that the door to Preservation Room 16 was slightly ajar. She glanced in through the window and gasped. She was sure she saw a pair of feet sticking out from behind the work desk. Startled, she pulled back. She tried to talk herself into entering the room to see if another person needed assistance, but she never had a chance to make a decision.
That was when she saw Enrico rounding the corner behind her. He moved slowly and seemed dazed. Pam stepped forward and started to tell him about poor George, but Enrico just stared at her without any apparent recognition. His eyes looked red rimmed like George’s had. Was there some sort of chemical accident?
He had certainly been cold to her this morning but this was different. He moved towards her slowly. His handsome bronze face looked unnaturally waxy under the bright hall lights. As he got closer, Pam saw that his eyes looked aflame with infection. Maybe he can’t see well.
His slow pace was deceptive. When he was with an arm’s reach of her he groaned and lunged forward. Pam was a good head shorter than the handsome engineer, but she had been raised around nervous horses and angry bulls. Without thinking, she sidestepped and raised the umbrella to block his outstretched arms. He stumbled against the wall, seemingly unable to fully control his muscles. Momentum carried him so his head hit the wall with an audible cracking sound.
Pamela suddenly was seized by the thought that he was hurt and simply reaching for her for support. She felt bad because she had struck out so impulsively. But as she turned towards him, she saw that he had lost a huge chunk of flesh from the back of his neck and shoulder. The wound was streaming blood and matted with gore. There was no way he could be walking around with an injury like that. How the heck is he even conscious?
Enrico regained his balance, snarled, and lunged at her again. His movement surprised her, and it was her turn to stumble back. She caught herself, but as soon as she had her feet untangled, Pam lost no time as she turned on her heel and sprinted back down the empty hallway.
She thought she should return to poor George in Preservation Room 17. The door could be locked from the inside. She had certainly closed the door tightly when she left so no predator could enter. As she approached the door, she saw George’s face at the window. Shuddering with relief, Pam assumed he was not hurt as badly as she thought he was. Perhaps we could get out of here together. Maybe he’s miraculously recovered from the shock on his own.
But when she stepped up to the door the lab tech slammed his head against it, and she saw that his features were contorted with rage. The door was not locked. It would be simple enough for him to open it. But instead he just splayed both hands and tried to push it open with his head and arms.
Pam glanced back. Enrico ambled around the corner. His head seem to hang awkwardly as he made his slow but determined way towards her. His skin was torn from his forehead and nose where he had hit the wall. Oblivious to multiple injuries, he just kept plodding forward.
George still slammed against