What Doesn't Kill You Makes You Zombier Read online

  On and off.

  Maybe he had found the solution.

  It should have been like that.

  He had already counted the cracks in the walls; they were ten.

  Ten. One and zero.

  He wouldn’t be fooled.

  Again he made the calculations; ten in binary code was...

  He went back to the screen and pushed the buttons firmly, in close succession: 1010.

  A metallic noise.

  The half-moon blades emerged from the cracks, taking him by surprise.

  And they were the last thing he saw.

  Patience

  A warm blanket and a cup of tea in the quiet room. The glow of the screen gave her a blue complexion. Claire was moving the little mouse plugged to her laptop, challenging the bumps of the couch and vexing the wheel scrolling through the web pages.

  Another boring night, surfing the net, searching for a topic that would catch her attention. Instead, she found just a bunch of jerks spreading around conspiracy theories or talking about the weather and other trivial things.

  For once, she wanted something more, a real thrill.

  She gave a quick look to the living room window, the pouring rain remembered her that no, it wasn’t a good idea to go out with that kind of weather.

  She turned back to stare at the white Google homepage. She typed “survival horror”. She wasn’t much of a gamer, but once in a while she liked to try some new Flash games, those with the comic-like design and very easy to play, or some interactive adventures inspired by zombie movies.

  She clicked on one of the search result and ended up in a page crowded with ads, flashing images and bleeding graphic. The average trash site with the only goal to make the users click by mistake on the ads so that the owner would earn some money. She was about to close the tab when something caught her eye. It was an anonymous box on the bottom right corner, with a strange series of numbers. They looked like a date, 2008.11.08. She moved her eyes to the Windows taskbar to check the day; it was November 8th, 2011.

  The text in the box was written with a simple font, and had a black border that looked like the one from an obituary.

  Patience is an eight letters word.

  If you want to know what they mean, click here.

  What a strange ad, and it even seemed to have nothing to do with the scary things that covered the entire page.

  The last word was red and pointed to an external link. Claire hovered it with her mouse and saw that the address was ladypxxx.net. She giggled; it was some porn website for sure.

  She moved away the pointer to reach the red X on top and close the page, but her mouse tripped on the couch fabric and returned on the bottom box. While she was trying to adjust its position, her index finger slipped and made her left-click on the link.

  A new page opened. Claire stopped to observe it with curiosity, expecting to see half-naked ladies or more explicit content. Instead, she saw just a black screen. The speakers of her laptop turned on to transmit a faint hiss. On the screen appeared white letters.

  2008.11.08

  Patience is an eight letters word.

  Do you want to know what they mean?

  Yes - No

  Claire wavered. She looked at the time, midnight and a half. She drank a sip of her tea that was already cooling, placed the cup on the little table near the couch, and then decided to go on.

  Let’s see what you got, my fanatic friend. By now she was convinced that instead of a porn site it was the web page of some cult.

  She clicked on Yes.

  The screen turned black, and then new letters appeared, this time in red.

  P is for Pouring

  From the speakers came the sound of an amplified dripping.

  Under the writing an image slowly appeared, it took a long time to load, while Claire was spinning up and down the mouse wheel as if it would speed up the process.

  Bit by bit, before her eyes showed up a picture that at first looked just like a red and gray blur.

  When it was perfectly in focus, Claire turned away her head and squinted with a grimace. But a morbid curiosity prompted her to look back.

  In the photo there was the corpse of a woman. She was lying on the ground haphazardly, in a pool of blood, her throat slashed. Many cuts disfigured her face, arms, legs, abdomen. Her whole body was soiled with red, her nightgown was torn and her brown hair were blood-soaked. A very realistic effect.

  The most disturbing thing was her face, with blood dripping from her mouth like cherry syrup, incisions on her cheeks and forehead, her red tears now dried up and her eyes wide open and glassy, that despite everything seemed to be staring at Claire.

  Okay, it’s disturbing, I get scared, you did a good job, happy now? Or is there more?

  Claire scrolled the page and saw that there was a text below the picture; it looked like an excerpt from a newspaper article.

  The student Patience Wilson was found dead in her room at the college dormitory.

  She was stabbed 38 times, said the coroner. The horrible murder took place the night of November 8th. C.B., the girl roommate, has been arrested as the first suspect and is now in the prison of...

  The rest was missing and a new link appeared:

  Do you want to continue?

  This time there wasn’t any yes or no, just the question.

  The usual murder story that intrigued the housewives during the afternoon shows.

  No, thanks, I’ll pass. Actually I don’t feel like staying on the Internet anymore.

  Claire closed the page and turned off her computer immediately. She took the headphones of her multimedia player and listened to her favorite album while she moved to the bedroom. She wrapped herself up in the bed sheets and relaxed, forgetting everything and slowly falling asleep. It wasn’t a quiet sleep.

  She woke up at the ring of her alarm clock. She was soaked in cold sweat and shivering. She had a nightmare, but she couldn’t remember; only a vague restlessness remained. No more horror websites before bed, she said to herself.

  She prepared for class. Took her laptop and got out in the gray morning of November.

  The time passed as usual, quiet and boring, she chatted a little with her college mates; after lunch she stopped by the library to edit her notes. She turned on her computer.

  As soon as the start-up screen disappeared to show the desktop, the browser opened by itself, back to the page of ladypxxx.net.

  A new message appeared.

  A is for Atonement

  Followed by a new image.

  What the hell, I caught a virus.

  In the background, an alternating sound set off, like the screech of something swinging. Claire looked quickly around to see if anyone had heard it, but the other students seemed too focused on their books to pay attention. She turned back to stare at the screen.

  The picture this time looked less disturbing, perhaps because there was no blood and it was in black and white, with a low resolution, as if it was taken by a surveillance camera. It depicted a hanged man in a cell.

  Just below there was a new excerpt:

  C.B., suspect in the murder of student Patience Wilson, took his own life this morning in his cell. It is assumed that his extreme gesture was due to feelings of guilt, even if he has left no farewell message. One of the guards refers hearing him often murmur the phrase:

  “I have no more patience.”

  Claire shook her head. I don’t have time to waste on this nonsense. She closed the page again and everything seemed being back to normal.

  She looked up and saw, sitting at one of the tables, Samuel, her classmate known as the Computer Guy. Quietly she got up and went to sit beside him.

  “Hi!”

  He, with the disheveled dark hair and the unshaven face of those who have been studying for too long, raised his head from the books and looked at her rather annoyed. “What’s the problem, today? Did you delete again an important file by mistake and your life is at stake? “

>   Claire giggled. “A little edgy, huh?”

  Samuel took off his square glasses and rubbed his eyes. “I have to pass this damn exam and I’m running out of time. What do you need? I hope it’s a quick fix.”

  “A strange thing happened. Last night I entered a site by mistake...”

  He grabbed her laptop with a snort. “I get it. Give it to me. Is the antivirus up to date?”

  Claire nodded.

  Samuel began to fiddle around opening several windows.

  “What site was that? “

  “Ladyx something, I can’t remember the exact address. Today the page opened by itself...”

  He scratched his beard. “I don’t see anything strange, no virus or trojans or other malware, your computer is clean. You probably have accidentally clicked on the browser history. Everything works fine and I even cleaned the cache. Just make sure to run the antivirus once in a while and you’re good to go. Now if you don’t mind, I have to finish this huge and heavy book.”

  “All right, thank you...” replied Claire, still a little puzzled, then she returned to her seat and began to work.

  The hours passed quickly and the day began to get darker.

  Claire yawned and decided it was time to go home. But before turning off her computer, she remembered that she hadn’t checked her mail yet.

  Among the many spam emails and social network notifications was a strange message with no subject.

  The sender was [email protected].

  The text contained a single sentence.

  T is for Torment

  Claire deleted it immediately and turned everything off.

  Yes, she had definitely caught something. But now the library was empty, and it was too late to call the assistance, and maybe it was nothing to worry about, just a spammer. She put the laptop in her bag and get in the hallway heading out of the campus.

  A strange feeling crawled along her spine. The impression that there was someone else, that a shadow had passed behind her.

  She turned around. Nothing. Empty and silent.

  She continued on her way. Further along the corridor there was a turn that led to the department of languages. She froze; her eyes wide open.

  There was someone, who seemed to emerge from the corner, a girl in profile. She could see only the tip of her pale nose and brown hair that overshadowed her face. She stepped forward and Claire saw her clothes, which looked like a yellowed and tattered nightgown...

  “There you are!” said a shrill voice making her jump and turn white. “Claire! What are you doing here standing still in the hallway?” A couple of arms hugged her, along whit a whiff of floral bouquet perfume. Only then she realized that it was her friend Veronica.

  “You scared me to death!” sighed Claire.

  “What a face, are you feeling okay?”

  “No... I mean, yes, it’s just... never mind.” She shook her head and looked back at the smiling face of the girl.

  “Then we’re going out tonight, right?” It was impossible to say no to those blue eyes.

  Claire nodded. “I believe that having some fun will do me good, but I have a thirty-minute bus ride to my home, and the last one is at nine.”

  “You’re such a bore! Come on, we eat something, then go to the club, and tonight you’re staying with me at the dorm, what do you think?”

  Claire did not hesitate, the idea of returning home and spend the night alone didn’t thrill her, so she gladly accepted the new plan.

  The club was crowded and dark, they had a couple of beers and Veronica was already half-drunk. She began to laugh out loud attracting the attention of every male in the room. A couple of average guys sat at their table and started to chat.

  A sudden ring startled Claire; it was just her cellphone. She took it out from her purse and saw that there was a new message.

  It came from an anonymous number.

  I is for Incoming

  Claire turned white again.

  “Something’s wrong?” asked one of the guys, the one with the goatee that said his name was Joe-something.

  “It can’t be...” she muttered. She deleted the message and forced a smile. “Nothing, just a stupid prank.” She turned off her phone and put it back in her purse, then swallowed a sip of beer.

  Veronica, with her usual sexy laughter and soft vice, said, “I really have to go to the ladies’ room. Will you come with me, Claire?” and without giving her time to answer, she grabbed her arm and dragged her to the bathroom.

  The room did not shine because of its cleanliness, but at least it was quiet and peaceful. Veronica pulled out a pink lipstick from her purse. “What do you think? Should we bring them home tonight?” She sneered. “That Joe looks cute,” and poked her with her elbow.

  But Claire was not in the mood. She was about to reply when the cellphone in her purse rang again.

  “How is it possible, I turned it off!”

  “Who is it?”

  She rummaged through her things and pulled it out. “Unknown caller.” She was staring at the phone, ringing and vibrating in her hands, as to wait for it to stop, but it seemed not willing to give up.

  “Come on, answer it,” urged Veronica.

  She nodded, and pressed the button to take the call. “Hello?”

  Silence. Claire stared at her friend that pronounced a quiet “Who is it?”

  She shook her head.

  “Hello? Who is there?”

  Nothing. Except... there was some kind of repeating sound, like a gasp, a breath...

  “Who are you? What do you want from me?” yelled Claire, upset but also slightly worried.

  A voice, hissing and distorted, which seemed female, whispered, “E is for Embrace.”

  “Very funny!” said Claire with a crack in her voice. “Now stop it or I call the police! I’m not joking!” and she ended the call. She made sure the phone was really off this time and put it back on her purse. She had goose bumps. “Stupid phone pranks,” she said.

  Veronica touched her shoulder as if to reassure her. “Come on, forget it, let’s get back to the guys,” she chuckled.

  Claire forced a smile and tried to enjoy the rest of the evening.

  It was 4 a.m. and she still wasn’t able to sleep.

  I can understand the email, but my phone number? How did they found out? It is not possible; I have never entered it in any social networks... She could not get over it. And the thing she had seen in the hallway? Only suggestion?

  She rolled over in bed several times, while her friend Veronica slept peacefully beside her, sometimes giggling even in her sleep. The bed was big enough for the two of them, but she knew the students weren’t allowed to have guests and if someone had found out it would have been a problem. Anyway, she did not want to sleep alone that night.

  She got up for a glass of water, but Veronica’s fridge was empty. There was a vending machine in the hallway. She was too thirsty and maybe stretching her legs wouldn’t hurt.

  She stepped into the dark, lit only by the green glow of the emergency exits.

  Again that strange feeling made her shiver all over her body. She quickened her pace, she was barefoot, wearing only a T-shirt that she had borrowed from Veronica, and was terribly cold.

  She counted the coins in the dim light, put them in the machine and pressed a button. The bottle rolled down with a thud amplified in the silence.

  She was about to pick it up when something caught her. Two icy arms entrapped her in a grip of steel, stifling her breath.

  A wind as cold as death blew on her neck, she felt the pressure of a damp head rubbed against hers, then two lips of ice touched her ear: “N is for Night.”

  It was the same creepy voice she had heard on her cellphone. Claire was paralyzed with fear, trembling, trying to resist to that grasp.

  The lips went down on her neck. The teeth sank into her shoulder, biting the fabric of her shirt. A stabbing pain. Claire finally cried.

  Woken by the screams, the other students
came out in the hallway, the lights turned on. Claire was alone, kneeling on the floor, sobbing, holding her shoulder with her hand covered in blood.

  “Are you sure you haven’t seen the face of the aggressor? And you have no idea of who could he be?” asked the police officer.

  Claire shook her head. She had already told everything about what had happened in the last two days, but an examination of her computer and cell phone led to nothing, no emails, no messages, no calls.

  Veronica stood next to her with a mortified expression on her face and held her hand to reassure her.

  After having filled in all the documents, they sent them home.

  “What if I stay at your place tonight?” said Veronica; now her smile was cracked too. “I don’t feel very safe at the dorm.”

  “I think it’s a good idea.”

  Throughout the day, Claire did not touch her computer nor the phone, occasionally the wound on her shoulder throbbed, but she tried not to think about it, even though the approaching night increased her anxiety.

  They made sure that windows and doors were closed, then dined in front of the TV and tried to keep each other company telling funny stories. When the tiredness took over, Veronica settled on the couch and Claire returned to her room.

  It took her a while to fall asleep, but eventually she slipped into a dark nightmare.

  An obscure presence haunted her and she tried to run, but her legs were too heavy, and everything was dark. She trudged, stumbled and fell in a sticky red puddle, then the creature reached her, slamming her to the ground. She felt its weight oppressing her, she felt its cold breath on her face.

  Claire woke up with a start, with short breath and her heart pounding.

  The room was dark and silent; the night was cold. Again she felt thirsty and got up to reach the kitchen connected with the living room, where Veronica was sleeping.

  A slight noise, like a dripping, the same she had heard in the speakers of her laptop the first time. Maybe it was just a leaking tap.