I chased after him.
He was fucking quick; I only caught a glimpse of his foot as he disappeared into the storage room. Where the hell was he going?
“Three!”
A loud scraping sound rang out, echoing down the hall, and when I wrenched open the door to the storage room, my heart missed a beat.
What was he?—
“Oh, fuck—no! Hey, don’t?—”
Too late.
With a loud cry, he ripped the electrical wire from the wall as he clawed at the grated panel of the crawlspace beneath it.
The lights blinked, then went out, and the emergency power kicked on. Red illuminated his face as he gripped the panel and grunted, trying to rip it from the wall.
That thing was bolted in, there was no way?—
The metal panel groaned, then came free with a jarring shriek. He fell back, then quickly recovered, flinging the panel aside and crawling into the small space he’d opened up.
He’d destroyed the fucking wire, and that was—that?—
But no, that didn’t matter right now, I could fix that later, he was…
“Three?”
It was eerily quiet, and that was even worse than hearing the awful sounds he’d been making before.
How the hell had he known about the crawlspace? Had he looked through here at some point?
I took a step, then another, trying to tread lightly. I didn’t want to set him off again. Was he…infected? Was he turning right now? The smart thing to do would be to?—
I shook my head. No. He couldn’t be infected. He’d been down here with me for a month now. If he was bitten before falling into the pit, he would’ve turned already.
Something dark was smeared along the edges of the opening. When I was close enough, a spark of dread flashed through me.
Blood. It was blood, he was really bleeding, how much was he bleeding? Was he?—
I dropped to my knees and peered into the crawlspace. “Three.”
In the dim red light, he was just a small lump in the far left corner, his chest moving rapidly as he panted. The chain on his collar trailed to the opening of the crawlspace, and while I had the opportunity to grab it and pull him out, I would never do that to him.
I was so torn between leaving him there—he obviously wanted to be in a small, dark space—and dragging him out so I could tend to his wounds.
My decision was made for me when a soft whimper drifted from the corner.
I got on my stomach and inched my way into the space. The noises he was making were filled with despair, slicing into my heart and driving me forward. I didn’t care if he attacked me again, he needed my help.
When I was a few inches from his foot, I paused. “Hey. Let’s get you somewhere more comfortable, yeah?”
I didn’t expect an answer, and I didn’t get one.
“I’m gonna take you out of here, okay? You’ll be a lot more comfortable on the bed.”
He jumped when I slid my hand around his ankle—the good one—but that was the only reaction I got.
“Will you come out?”
