“No, she’s still here. I can smell her,” Shavian could hear the Baron say from the other side of the door. She’d made it through the door, but she wasn’t convinced they hadn’t seen the door to the next room closing. She was in some kind of scrub room, with large stainless-steel sinks, and neat folded piles of surgical scrubs.
“Where is she?” Irons said sounding impatient.
“It’s hard to tell.”
“What do you mean?”
“Your life is polluting the area… I could help you with that, if you’d like,” the Baron said with a smile to his last words.
Shavian gasped for breath. It was everything she had to get through the door. She kept her eyes focused on her fingers and their chipped nail polish as she gripped the counter to keep herself upright. She listened to the soft patter as sweat pooled and dropped off her chin, and she tried to keep the room from swimming. She needed to figure out how she was going to get out of this one. She still wasn’t sure how she got into it.
Gutting it out, she stood on shaky legs and took a step forward. She wanted to run, but she knew she couldn’t do that twice. Moving to the pile of scrubs she pulled on pants and a shirt that looked like they could fit an elephant, but she didn’t have time to be picky. She continued to put one foot in front of the other. She didn’t know where she was going, she only knew that she needed to keep going.
“Are you threatening me, Baron? Do not forget our agreement.” Iron’s words turning even colder than they were before, Shavian felt the shiver up her spine.
“She is a drugged and helpless little girl, she won’t have gotten far.” His gravelly British voice was closer than it was before.
Trapped in the open, still in the middle of the room, she tried to run, but her legs refused to do anything more for her. Her foot slipping, she collapsed onto the floor, her gown falling open, her oversized scrubs flipping out in front of her. Clamping her teeth together she refused to let out a noise, but it didn’t matter, the door was opening. There, standing over her was the pale and dead looking Zombie Baron. He reached into his breast pocket and fitted his monocle into place.
Shaven laid there, nude from the waist down, tried to get her legs to listen and pull her back to her knees. She wasn’t sure if she should scream or not. Did she need to have modesty when someone dead watched her? Was it the same thing? Perhaps she should just scream because it was a fucking Zombie?
Baron looked her over and he smiled, his chapped lips pulling tight across gore smattered yellow teeth. “Nope,” he growled. “She seems to have gotten farther than we thought.” Slowly he closed the door and she was alone again. She blinked, once then twice.
“She must have gone down the hallway while we tussled with the others. Come Doctor, I can’t protect you and find your plaything.”
She heard their footsteps move down the hall and then it was silent again.
“Lord, what is going on?” she said trying to pull the giant scrubs on her numb legs.