EYEHEARTZOMBIES

The staircase was comfortably wide enough, and there was a handrail. Seth didn’t feel like he was going to fall down them or get trapped. Still, each step took him a bit further underground, with no power, and he didn’t know there was anyone down there or not. Oh well. The girl was dying, he had to get down there and get to the phone.

After twenty or thirty steps, he reached the first level of the basement. At least he assumed it was the first level, that’s what the librarian had said. The stairs ended, so there must be another flight of steps somewhere back in the basement. He swept his ancient flashlight around in an arc to try and get a bearing on the basement.

In front of him was a large stone pillar, probably a support for the floors above him. To the left and right were both closed doors. The left one was marked with a plaque that read “Book Supplies” and the one on the right held a sign naming it “Janitor.” Seth decided that neither of these would hold the phone he needed. He took a few steps into the darkness of the basement, more grateful for the light, however weak it might be, with every step. The library had been dark but a tiny amount of light had come in through the windows. Down there, though, it was complete darkness.

He stepped around the first pillar and saw a second in line with it. The second looked just like the first, of course, but it had a fire extinguisher attached to it. “Doesn’t really make me feel any safer,” Seth mused. Still, it was good to know where something like that was. He turned the light to his left and saw a door labeled with “Storage.” Probably piles and piles of books, he though. He turned around and looked at the door to the right of the pillar. “Aha!” he exclaimed when he read the little brass plaque that said “Reference Office.” He strode over to it, all feelings of wariness having vanished in the second he took to read the sign.

Stepping up to the door, he stuck a hand out and grabbed the knob. Then he paused and listened. Was that a scratching he heard somewhere in the basement? Probably just a mouse. “God, I’m as jumpy as a cheerleader in a Jason movie,” he said, still quiet but not a whisper. “Come on.” He knocked twice on the door, heard nothing, and turned the knob.

The office was unlocked, something else he hadn’t even thought to worry about, and pitch black inside, of course. The beam from his flashlight illuminated most of the office in a soft glow, though, since the room was relatively tiny. A bookshelf sat against the far wall with a couple of squat filing cabinets beside it. In the middle of the room sat a desk. The top of the desk was covered with all sorts of office paraphenalia: pens, pencils, forms, blank pieces of typing paper, and an in & out box set. He didn’t see a telephone anywhere.

“Fuck!” He scanned the top of the desk again, office supplies, desk calendar, name plate with “Lilith Garrett” embossed into it. But no phone. “Fuck,” he said again, quieter and more resigned. He moved around the desk to check the drawers.

The desk chair was a wood and plastic affair with the corners coming apart. Stuffing poked out of the dark green covering. It was on casters, so Seth rolled it back toward the filing cabinets. He pulled out the long lap drawer first. More pens and pencils, a few pads of sticky notes and a letter opener. He closed the drawer, probably harder than necessary, and went to the drawers on the right-hand side.

There were two drawers, the second one twice as tall as the top one. The top one had more paper and a few books in it. “Rules of Style” and a dictionary were mixed in with reams of typing paper and a photo album. Seth cursed again and closed the drawer, almost slamming it shut.

He considered just leaving the room and running to the hospital. Eden Medical Center, where his mom Evie was housed, was about fifteen miles away, though. Way too far to run in time to help the girl. What about the taxi? No, moving a car from the scene of an accident was illegal or something. Surely the cops’d understand. He didn’t want to chance it, though. Better to have them come here. He sighed and pulled open the bottom drawer.

Hanging folders. Behind them, though, sat a shiny black phone like the kind they had in old movies. He picked it up by the finger hold under the receiver cradle and sat it on the desk. The receiver was still attached to the base with a curly plastic wire which was twisted into a knot halfway down. The base had a cloth-covered wire running out of the back of it. It ran down into the drawer. Seth pulled the hanging folders out and threw them away from him. The wire ran into the drawer and…. Disappeared. It must go through a hole in the bottom of the drawer. He dropped to his chest and looked under the desk. Yes! The wire came out the bottom and ran into a plug in the floor.

Completely excited, Seth stood back up and wheeled the chair over to him. He picked up the receiver and nearly whooped with triumph when he heard a dialtone coming through the static. He shined his light to the plastic rotary dial and stuck his finger in the hole for nine. He pulled it up to the top mark and let go, hearing the gears tick back down. Two more pulls, both shorter and from the one slot, and he sat holding his breath, waiting for the phone to ring.

Two seconds passed, then four. He started counting under his breath, “five mississippi, six mississippi, seven….” A ring! A second ring. Then the doo-deet-doo that everyone knows and hates. The prerecorded message came on, saying the number he had dialed was having problems. What kind of problems can cut off the emergency numbers? Seth tapped the cradle knobs a few times and dialed again. The clicks faded away and he sat on the edge of his seat again. Five seconds passed before he heard the first ring. This time the operator cut in before the second ring.

Seth let out a yell of rage free of any words. Why was nothing going smoothly today? He slammed the receiver back down on the cradle and just stared at it, his head in his hands. He breathed deeply a few times, then decided to try just calling the operator. She’d at least be able to tell him what was up with 911.

He picked up the handle again, his knuckles white around it, and pulled the zero hole around to the top. Ten clicks later and the room and phone were both silent. Finally a woman’s voice spoke, asking Seth which city and state. He told her and the line went quiet again. Another woman answered, “Hi, this is the operator. What can I help you fine?”

“Yeah, hi. Is there something wrong here? The power is down in the library and I really need to get ahold of 911.” Seth’s mind was racing with a prayer that someone would finally be able to help.

“So you have an emergency? Why haven’t you called 911 already?” The operator sounded put out at having to explain this. “They’re the only ones who can dispatch help to your location. I’m not affiliated with the police or fire departments.”

“No, no, I understand that. Something’s wrong with their phones, though. I can’t call through, all I get is that goddamn recorded message.”

“There’s no reason to curse at me, young man. What’s the emergency?” The operator sounded a little more sympathetic, but still put off by his profanity. Seth took a deep breath to settle himself again. Damn but it felt like he was having to do that all the time. He took another breath and started in on the story.

“We’re at the library on Grand Avenue. A girl was hit by a taxi cab. I know it crushed one of her hands and it looked like it broke her back, too. We moved her into the — “

“You shouldn’t move someone who’s had back injuries,” the operator cut in. Seth’s face scrunched up in the dark room and his head fell into his hand. He was about to say how he didn’t really think they could hurt the girl any more than she had already been and how he didn’t want to just leave her in the rain when the operator spoke again. “I’ll patch you through to the police dispatch office. Hope she makes it.” And with that, the line went quiet again.

Seth could hear clicks and buzzes coming through the phone while the call transfered. Something must have happened to the phone lines for it to take this long. Seth had almost decided to try the taxi after all when a gruff voice spoke into his ear. “Yer?”

“Hello, sir. Can you please send a squad car and an ambulance to the City Library on Grand Aven — “

“What fer? These blackouts are screwin’ us all up. If it ain’t an honest-to-God emergency, you’ll have to wait ’til the po’er comes back on.” The man sounded like he was on the verge of hanging up. Seth rushed ahead.

“There’s been a bad accident. We need medical help right away.” Seth hoped the guy could act on easy information like that. He didn’t feel like recounting the whole damn mess again. “We need an ambulance at least. Just please send someone to help.”

“Kid, we’ll get someone out there as soon as we can. These blackouts have really crippled us, though. Shut down 911, even.” The cop sounded more sympathetic now, but he still sounded like there were hundreds of things he’d rather be doing than talking on the phone right now. “Haven’t you noticed ‘em? Don’t tell me you still have power down there at the lye-berry?”

“No, our power is out too…. How bad is it?” Seth was starting to worry more now. If there were massive power outtages, God only knew what could be messed up. Streetlights, emergency services…hospitals. No, hospitals have their own power supplies, emergency generators, all of that stuff. No reason to worry about hospitals. Worry about the girl upstairs. She needs help right now.

“It’s not as bad as it could be. Look, I gotta go, kid, it’s busy here and I ain’t got time to talk to you until someone gets their ass in gear and gets the power back on. Just sit tight and we’ll send someone over.” The line went dead when the cop hung up. Seth sat the phone back on its cradle and sat back in the desk chair. He ran a hand through his still-damp hair and sighed. At least someone was on their way…eventually. They’d just have to sit tight until someone showed up.

A small cough at the office doorway startled him to his feet. He grabbed the flashlight and whipped it around to shine through the doorway. It was the taxi driver. His face was sadder and more “here” than Seth had seen. He rubbed his face with one hand, then looked straight into the beam of light. “Kid…she’s dead.”