THE LAST 100 DAYS

Dead Quiet

Chapter 2: Dead Quiet

"Everybody shut up!" the delivery man hissed. "Not one sound!"

The steel door buckled again. Dust sifted from the ceiling.

"Get the baby quiet," the clerk begged. "Please, lady, get him quiet!"

"I'm trying!" The mother rocked her son, tears streaking her face. "He's terrified! I'm trying!"

Ethan didn't answer. He was counting the impacts. Three at the back. Two on the roof. One at the front, pressed against the shattered door.

"They're not just attacking," he whispered. "They're surrounding us."

"Oh, that's great," the delivery man spat. "That's real helpful, kid."

The toddler wailed. Every click outside snapped toward the sound like a compass needle.

"Give him to me," the clerk said, reaching out. "I'll take him to the back, away from—"

"Don't you touch my son!"

"Then *shut him up!*"

A hand clamped onto Ethan's shoulder.

"Enough." The voice was low and steady. A broad man in a torn paramedic jacket stepped out of the dark aisle, a first-aid kit strapped across his chest. "Everybody, eyes on me. I'm Marcus. I was stuck in the back when the lights died. You, ma'am, press his face into your neck. Hum, don't shush. Low and steady."

The mother obeyed. The wail dropped to a whimper.

Outside, the clicking faded.

Nobody breathed.

"Watch," Ethan murmured. "They went quiet when we did."

Marcus's eyes narrowed on him. "Say that again."

"When the baby cried, they came. When he stopped, they backed off. They're listening for us. Testing the walls."

"Testing," Marcus repeated. His jaw tightened. "Kid, creatures don't test."

"These do."

A single click tapped the front glass. Waited. Tapped again.

"Is there another way out?" Ethan whispered.

"Loading bay behind the stockroom," Marcus said. "Opens on an alley. But the alley's—"

He didn't finish. Through the gap in the stockroom door, shadows slid across the concrete. Too many to count.

"Then we make them look somewhere else," Ethan said. He scanned the wall behind the register. A red fire alarm pull station. "Marcus. Can you reach that?"

"It'll bring every one of them to the front."

"That's the point."

Marcus stared at him for one long second. Then he nodded. "Everyone line up at the stockroom. When I say go, you *run*."

The delivery man grabbed the crowbar tighter. "And if the alarm doesn't work? Power's dead."

"The building's alarm runs on its own battery," Marcus said. "Most do."

*Most.*

Ethan's stomach turned over. If Marcus was wrong, they would die in this room with their own noise screaming for them.

A man near the freezers broke first. He'd been silent the entire time, shaking against the shelves.

"I can't," he whispered. Then louder. "I can't, I can't, I *can't*—"

"Sir, don't—"

He screamed.

The front glass exploded inward.

Pale bodies poured through the frame. The clerk went down under one, bat spinning across the tile. The man by the freezers vanished beneath a wave of gray leather and snapping seams.

"*Go!*" Marcus roared, and slammed his fist into the alarm.

A shriek tore through the building. The creatures twisted toward it, a dozen heads snapping in unison.

Ethan grabbed the mother's arm and dragged her through the stockroom. Marcus hauled the clerk off the floor, bleeding from his shoulder. The delivery man kicked the loading door open.

They spilled into the alley.

"Left!" Marcus shouted. "Move, move!"

Behind them, the alarm kept screaming. Ahead, shapes crawled along the walls, drawn by the commotion. Ethan ran with his lungs on fire.

"Marcus!" he gasped. "The hospital. You said you'd seen these before!"

"Two hours ago," Marcus panted. "St. Anne's. Patients disappearing from locked wards. Nobody believed me." His voice cracked. "I thought it was one building."

"It's not."

"No," Marcus said grimly. "It's everywhere. All at once. Which means someone planned this."

A shape dropped from a fire escape. The delivery man swung the crowbar and caught it across the face. It staggered, shrieking, then lunged again and sank its teeth into his arm.

"*Don't stop!*" he screamed. "Go! Go!"

"We're not leaving you—" the mother sobbed.

"Take the kid and *go!*"

Ethan saw the blood. Saw how deep it was. Saw Marcus's face change.

They ran.

Behind them, the crowbar hit the ground. A sound followed that Ethan would hear in his sleep for the rest of his life.

A streetlight flickered at the end of the alley, dead like everything else. One of the creatures stopped dead beneath it. It tilted its head, as if listening to something no one else could hear. Then it turned and slipped into the dark.

*Why did it stop?*

There was no time. Marcus shouldered through the doors of a glass office tower and shoved a desk against them. Ethan, the mother, the toddler, and the bleeding clerk piled in behind, then Marcus dragged a filing cabinet across the entrance.

"Check the windows!" Marcus barked. "Anyone see movement?"

"No," the clerk whimpered. "No, I don't, I don't—"

"Sit." Marcus pushed him down and ripped open his shirt. "Hold still. You're losing blood."

His hands moved fast, packing gauze, pressing hard. Then his eyes found Ethan's shredded sleeve, where blood soaked through.

"You too. Sit."

"I'm fine."

"You're not." He tore the fabric and cleaned the gash without ceremony. Ethan clenched his teeth. "Listen to me. Water, shelter, information, silence. In that order. We have one of those."

"Shelter," Ethan said.

"For now." Marcus tied the bandage tight. "That man gave his life so your people could walk in here. Don't waste it."

*Your people.* Ethan opened his mouth to argue, but the words wouldn't come.

He stood and crossed to the window.

Meridian City stretched out below him. Fires blazed in the east, near the hospital district. More burned to the north, toward the highway. A column of black smoke rose from the harbor. Across the river, an entire tower flickered with orange light, window by window.

*Every direction.*

The blue numbers floated in the corner of his vision: 99 DAYS, 23 HOURS, 12 MINUTES.

Behind him, the toddler had finally fallen asleep.

Then every dead streetlight along the avenue lit up at once, and in their white glare, hundreds of creatures stood perfectly still, all facing the building.