Ryan slammed open the doors and found himself in the kitchen. Gray cooking stations and tables, white walls and tiled floors, blood in place of food scattered everywhere. The smell of carcasses continued to linger in the place, hitting his nostrils like a truck. Ryan’s eyes watered as he plugged his nose and fell on his knees. His sense of smell died, and his brain wasn’t functioning as he wanted it to, so it was much more challenging for him to focus or find the source of food, if there was any.
Was he finally at a dead end? No, it couldn’t be.
Ryan’s energy was depleting by the mile, as he was losing light. He crawled on the floor, desperate to find anything to snack on, even scraps at this point. He did his best to search everywhere. Freezers? Nothing but frozen bodies. Drawers? Cooking utensils. Fridges? Scavenged or rotten to the core. He felt like giving up. He couldn’t take much more of this. Ryan slowly looked up at the meat locker. He hadn’t checked there yet, but wasn’t too hopeful about the outcome. He reached over to open the door with a creak. However, it opened up faster than he anticipated, as a corpse and slabs of rotten meat fell out.
Ryan shrieked as he stepped back and fell again. He couldn’t even speak from the shock. His throat had practically given out. He leaned closer to inspect if it was still alive or not. The zombie groaned and turned its ugly head, facing him. Ryan turned pale as his heart got caught in his throat again. As it approached him on its fours, Ryan quickly turned and stammered away.
Too exhausted to scream or even cry, his burning legs carried him across the halls. There had to be a way out of this nightmare. He wanted to wake up or be anywhere that wasn't in a zombie-infested area.
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As soon as he noticed a door on the side, he sped up and fell onto the doorknob before hitting the floor. Ryan got up and tried again, not caring about the sounds he made as he wiggled the knob to get it to open up for him. More groans came from the sides of the hallway as his heart beat faster and faster. Once he finally got the door open, he stumbled his way inside and slammed the door behind him.
The moans got louder as it banged on the door from the other side. Ryan crawled back and tried to catch his breath. However, he didn’t take into account the shelves that were behind him as they rattled and shook. Boxes from the highest shelves fell one by one; Ryan covered his head as they grazed him and hit the ground. Still shaken, Ryan lowered his guard and noticed something odd about one of the boxes.
He slowly made his way over to one and reached out to pull the flaps open. They looked to be shiny packets of some kind. If his mouth could salivate, he’d be drooling at the thought of what it could be. He ripped the top open. When he couldn't see what was inside, he squeezed it from the bottom. Pink, meaty paste came out of it.
Ryan’s mind immediately went to food. He didn’t care if it was edible or not, only wanting some substance to fill his body. He squeezed the pouch, let the contents fall into his mouth, and immediately spat them out. The combination of cold, mushy, and wet textures didn’t gel well with him, whatever that was.
Ryan coughed; the dust in the storage room settled at last. He was on the verge of breaking. Everything around him became muffled noise and fell on deaf ears as his body ached in pain. He fell into a fetal position and closed his eyes, too tired to make a sound or shed any more tears. He had enough.
Was it the end? Was this how he’d die? Alone, cold, tired, and hungry? Ryan thought about the many things he wanted to do. He had many regrets but never got closure or could move on. The people he wanted to talk to, or at least meet, one last time. Oh well, the nightmare would be over soon enough. At least he got to rest one last time before meeting his inevitable demise.
“...Hello? Is anyone there?”
“Hey, not so loud.”
“But, I thought I heard something...”
