Amongst the Dead by David Bernstein

quickened. Sweat dotted her skin as if she’d spent time in a sauna, her clothes glued to her body. She’d been in the basement numerous times and knew the layout. Going in blind was a different thing, but she felt confident she could maneuver well enough without causing herself injury. She’d left the door open a crack, but with the deck overhead, not much direct sunlight came through. Realizing an open door might give her away, she closed it. What little light she had was now gone, leaving her in a world of complete darkness. She needed illumination of some kind.
    Along the wall to the right, in the far corner, was George’s workbench. Hanging on hooks, amongst other items, were flashlights.  
    Using her hands as guides, Riley crept along the cool, but abrasive cinder block wall. She moved slowly, not wanting to knock anything over, and shuffled her feet inches at a time. About halfway across the room, she stopped upon hearing a moan. She squinted foolishly, not seeing a thing in the dark. The moaning came again from somewhere in the gloom. Something was in the basement with her. Was someone tied up? Dazed? Then the image of what accompanied moaning entered her mind as clear as if a spotlight had shown upon it—the undead.  
    Had zombies entered the house, one making its way into the basement? Maybe George had tossed it down there until he had time to deal with it. Or maybe someone was tied up, the others upstairs taken hostage?  
    “George?” she whispered. “Is that you?” The moaning only seemed to grow louder. Riley’s fears increased with her pulse. “Joanne? Eric?”  
    The sound of shoes clomping against the concrete floor began to emanate from within the gloom. She needed that flashlight. Whoever it was wasn’t bound and they were getting closer. The moaning was hurried now, as if the thing or person were eager. It couldn’t be a zombie, could it? She tried to calm herself, inhaling deep breaths through her nostrils and trying to pick up the odor of death. She smelled nothing out of the ordinary except the familiar odor of basement.  
    She began walking again, her pace quickening. The unknown thing’s footsteps grew more rapid, the moaning at its highest octave now. She banged her knee into something hard and metal. She bit down, clenching her teeth together to avoid crying out in pain. Feeling around the object, she realized it was a tool chest with drawers. Riley’s heart jumped. She remembered seeing a small yellow flashlight in one of the drawers, she just couldn’t remember which one. She wouldn’t need to reach the workbench. Using her shaky hands, she felt for the drawer handles, pulling one open. The footsteps had stopped, but the moaning remained as incessant as ever.  
    Riley felt around inside the first drawer. Her fingers came into contact with multiple steel items, like cold phalanges, making her want to yank her hand away. She discarded the thought like expired meat, picturing the tools for what they were, metal instruments.  
    Feeling around in the second drawer, she cried out, jerking her hand back. Something had stung her. Needing the flashlight, she began searching through the drawer again, finding what had bit her—a hacksaw blade. Continuing on, she finally felt something hard and made of plastic. One end was larger than the rest.  
    She grabbed the item, feeling for the switch along the handle and found it, hesitating. The basement had grown quiet, the moaning ceased. Holding the flashlight in her right hand, she slid the switch forward with her thumb. Blinding light shot forth, illuminating the red tool chest. Then from what sounded to be a few feet to her left, came the moaning again, loud as ever. Her nostrils filled with the metallic odor of copper. She held back the urge to gag, knowing well the smell of fresh blood.  
    Panning the flashlight to the left, its beam came into contact with George’s face. “George,” she said, her voice filled with joy. She felt a