Juniper and Christopher lingered at the hotel for an additional week. After that, the lack of power transformed the entire hotel into an uninhabitable dark tomb. Rooms were inhospitable without the support of air conditioning as it was impossible to open the large plate glass windows. The rooms became ovens, reaching ridiculous highs in temperature during the afternoon, and retaining that heat well into the night.

Loss of electricity seemed to translate into loss of sanity for most of the hotel's inhabitants. Through the walls, Juniper could hear wailing, incoherent tangents, and weeping. Everyone thought they were fucked, and maybe they were. Though it felt safe being on the 15th floor, it was an illusion. Juniper and Christopher couldn't stay. There was no place to go, but they wanted to leave before vandals descended on the hotel. From their window, they had witnessed many atrocities. Being so high up had given them detachment from everything that had happened. The false sense of safety unnerved Juniper. Being detached or feeling safe was a mistake in the New World. Being moved to action and feeling scared were more esteemed qualities.

Between the two of them, Juniper and Christopher had one bag's worth of essentials. The vending machine down the hall from their room wasn't yet empty. Christopher took a flashlight and knapsack with him into the hallway during the post-midnight hours. Within 30 minutes, he had liberated the remaining snacks into his knapsack. They also had extra clothes, matches, and a pocket knife. Juniper chose to show Christopher her gun. He was a liberal, an anti-gun liberal, and the presence of a gun frightened him. Juniper was also a liberal, but she was a realist too. The gun was a necessity. Two guns would have been best. 10 guns would have been better.

Nine guns shy of a party, the couple ventured out into the stairwell. It had been 4 days since they had even left the 15th floor. The condition of the stairwell was startling. Glimpsing it in flashes from the blinking red emergency lights put an even scarier spin on the degradation. For the sake of conservation, the hotel's generator ran only the plumbing, emergency lights in the stairwell, and a few empty rooms that had been commandeered by hotel employees.

There wasn't anything as clichéd as 'the end is nigh' written on the walls of the stairwell. However, there were writings, mostly other quotes from scripture or things like, "Have you seen Matheson? Five foot ten, brown hair, 28 years old..." Drawings had taken over the wall, too. They were cave-like in their crude quality. It had to have been the work of a single artist, a disturbed artist. Pictures of decapitations, mutilations, and bestiality covered an entire four foot span on one of the stairwell's landings. Someone had written in large letters "There is no more 'fore, only after".

"What the hell?" Christopher said after reading the sentence from the wall.

"Still think we don't need a gun?" Juniper asked.

When they were out of the stairwell and on the ground floor, Juniper felt safer. In the stairwell, they could have encountered anyone. It was an enclosed space decorated by crazy people. She didn't want to fully imagine the possible scenarios. Christopher was blaring feelings of anxiety, letting her know that his mind was on the same track.

They passed by a few rooms on their way to the front door of the hotel. Some of the doors had been left open. The smells coming from them were not pleasant. Christopher shined the flashlight inside one of the rooms. Juniper wasn't looking, but the blank shock coming off of Christopher told her that she didn't need to look. His shock slowly hardened into resolve. Juniper could respect his feelings of resolve loads more than she could respect his fear. She already knew the world was dangerous. Being sober a few weeks, Christopher was catching up with everyone else from his naivety.

Eventually, they made it to the lobby entrance. The front desk was devoid of personnel. A name badge sat on the marble desktop. As Juniper neared closer to the front, she could read the name, "Carrie". Looks like Carrie quit, thought Juniper. Smart girl. Either that, or she had been forced to quit. Behind the counter, there were blood splatters. Juniper shined her flashlight to follow the trail and she saw deep grooves etched into the floor. What could have created those marks on ceramic tile?

"Where are you going?"

Christopher's question came from the hallway. He made no move into the lobby.

"We're leaving, aren't we?"

"Not that way, we're not. My car is still in the parking garage."

Juniper didn't think venturing into a parking lot at night was safe, but she knew the value of having a car. Anything was better than walking around the city with only one gun.

"Alright." She said.

Investigating the blood and scratches would have to be forgotten.

The hallway leading to the garage was dark. Christopher's flashlight didn't illuminate much. Juniper was forced to feel her way along the wall. Items littered the floor, what felt like boxes and papers. When she took her next step, her foot came down on a thing that had more substance. It was thick and squashed under the weight of her.

"Christopher!" she called.

He was a few feet in front of her. He turned around to shine the light in her direction. In a sweeping arc of light, they both saw what Juniper had stepped on: a human arm. The limb began at the shoulder and ended at the manicured fingers. Along the length of it, gashes similar to the ones in the lobby floor marked the arm.

"What did this?" Christopher asked.

"Those things from the tabloids? Maybe they're real." Juniper said.

"That's stupid. Monsters don't exist."

"Right, and civilization will never fail?"

Juniper couldn't read his face in the dark, but she felt his doubt slipping away. He knew she was right.

"Let's just get to the car before we find out who's right and who's wrong."

They kept moving, with the implications of the severed arm in the forefronts of their thoughts. Hours passed (or maybe minutes) before they reached the parking garage door. Christopher took a deep breath, and then opened the door. Cold air blew in their faces. Both of them stepped inside the black space beyond the door. There was silence, and the abyss. A loud clanging echoed all around them. Juniper reached for her gun with all the finesse of a five-year-old. Her panic died when Christopher's did.

"It was the door. It's okay." His voice was a whisper, still louder than a waterfall in the large empty space.

"How are we going to find your car?"

Rustling, and then a 'beep, beep'. Headlights lit up 30 feet in front of them. They saw the lot in its entirety for a few seconds. The parking space across from their car wasn't empty. Something four feet long and furry unfurled itself when the car lights woke it up.

Christopher cried out, "Juniper, shoot it!"

 ****