Ughhhh I have to go through and add spaces between every single one of the paragraphs so it's easier to read. Darn Wattpad! *shakes fist at the sky*

Amity quietly stepped into the elevator, simultaneously slipping the mini-filter over her face. There were a few other people in the elevator, mostly kids who, like her, were intent on getting to school on time and lived on one of the higher levels of the building. Most of them wore mini-filters as well, as afraid as everyone else of catching the smog sickness. They didn't make conversation with Amity as the lift hastily descended, making only one or two stops to let off adult passengers. The only people who did speak were two middle school girls chatting noisily over an app for the newest smartphone. Amity wasn't eager to speak to anyone else anyways, and she was glad when, at last, the the elevator doors slid smoothly open and allowed its cargo out.

All of them headed to the same door to wait for the same bus. They waited inside, unwilling to stand out in the thick smog for longer than necessary. The apartment complex wouldn't have appreciated this type of loitering in a different time, but now, no one minded. Adults passed, all with mini-filters and some even with goggles due to a new claim that pollution could damage your eyesight. Amity watched them pass with little concern; unlike everyone else, she was actually excited to be getting on the bus, because it would mean hanging out with her only friend, Phil.

Some things never change; the vibrant yellow of a school bus, for example. Although the bus was a significantly sleeker model than the kind Amity had seen on old DVDs, and the paint was fairly damaged by acid rain, it was still recognizable as the typical transportation for kids who needed to get to school. Amity watched it round the corner and come up the street, looking smaller than it had any right to amongst the enormous buildings.

She rushed out of the building with the others, cautious as usual of birds, which were far more vicious than your average pigeon, and boarded the bus. Instantly, the silence trailing them from the building was shattered. There was shouting and laughing and even things being thrown, but there, near the back, was Phil, waving her over frantically. Amity made her way towards him, trying not to be tripped as she progressed.

"Good morning," she said as she slid breathlessly into the seat next to him.

Phil grinned, but the expression morphed quickly into a grim scowl. "Actually, no it isn't. My little sister came down with the smog sickness over the weekend."

"Is she okay?" Amity asked, trying to sound as concerned as possible. She sometimes had trouble with this sort of thing, especially considering that the smog sickness was not known to be lethal, and that Phil's sister had about a 95% chance of being absolutely fine by the end of the week.

"Well, she's not exactly pleased about it. Her class is going to the Indoor this week too, and I think she really wanted to go, but it doesn't look like she'll be able to. Other than that, she's just coughing. Coughing a lot."

"Oh," Amity said, and wasn't sure what else to say. The two of them were silent for a moment, but then Phil brightened and moved to a different subject.

"But hey, we still get to go," he said.

"Been there like, six times now, but it's still interesting I guess." Amity shrugged.

"Dude, you can't possibly be tired of the Indoor. They have birds that don't want to kill you," Phil said, reminding Amity of how shocked they had both been when they were allowed to feed the birds there, and not with their own flesh.

The Indoor was one of many terms for the Artificial Nature Facilities located around the United States. The Facilities were responsible for providing safe fruits and vegetables for people to eat, as well as healthy livestock, and also for breeding some of the many near-extinct animals around the world. Most of these animals were practically domesticated, having been born and raised inside, and even the ones that weren't were safer than the ones breathing in the toxic fumes in the few wilting forests remaining. Nothing had been affected as brutally as the birds, which apparently had all caught some horrible strain of the smog sickness, and become violent, predatory, and wholly carnivorous. It made sense, seeing as they essentially lived in the sky, where the worst of it was.

"Yeah," Amity agreed absentmindedly. She had now moved on mentally to the dogs and cats she'd seen there. You couldn't have those anymore; they took up too much space and could all too easily become infected with the smog sickness and attempt to kill you in your sleep. They'd seemed so nice and cute at the Indoor, though.

"Why do you have to be so negative all the time? You're not the one who's sister could die tomorrow," Phil said. It was his constant refrain, the negative bit. Apparently, Amity was a horrible, morbid, antisocial, depressed freak to everyone else. She didn't understand it, seeing as she was the one who had wanted to point out to Phil that human fatalities caused by the sickness were actually relatively rare.

"I'm not being negative, I'm just thinking, yeesh," she said, and scowled. "You're almost as bad as them." She gestured around at everyone else there, all absorbed in electronics or talking loudly of some new product none of them probably actually needed but wanted anyways. She and Phil had been social outcasts for quite some time, although she couldn't quite pinpoint when they had become that way, or even when they had really become friends. All she knew was that Phil was the only one who didn't give her weird looks, although he did occasionally give her a hard time about said weird looks.

Phil didn't say anything else for the rest of the bus ride, leaving Amity to stare passed him and out the window at all the towering apartment buildings with their vibrant advertisements. He just stayed silent until they finally rolled into the parking lot of the school, and jogged in briskly, trying not to stay outside for too long. There was some commotion as a pigeon tried to dive at a sixth grader, but the bus driver tased it before it could do any real harm. Bus drivers were all equipped with tasers recently, as were teachers and over half the people on the planet. People needed defence against the nature that had now turned against them.

They stepped from the toxic, chill morning air into the warm, filtered air of the school. They wouldn't be here long, but Amity would've preferred not to stop here at all. The class needed to meet before they left, however, seeing as not everyone took the bus. Amity slid her mini-filter down so that it hung around her neck; it was considered rude to use filters indoors, sort of like holding your nose to avoid a bad smell when the person who was producing it was standing right next to you, but she didn't necessarily need to take it off.

She and Phil walked side-by-side down the hall, neither of them stopping at lockers, as they'd be leaving in only a moment anyways. Amity tried not to breathe too hard; sometimes, she imagined she could see the residual smog rising off of people's clothes and skin. "So," Phil said, just before they stepped into the classroom. "Ready for the big lecture? You know, the no-sullying-the-nature speech?"

"Well I'm not exactly excited," Amity said, frowning. "It's a load of crap and you know it."

"Why else would I ask you every year? It's funny to hear you complain about it." He grinned and lead the way into the classroom.

Phil's sense of humor was really weird. That was probably why he wasn't usually considered "socially viable" or whatever it was that people said. It gave him great joy to make Amity mad.

They took their traditional seats in the back of the classroom. The rest of their class, one of four eighth grade classes in the school, was even more restless and rowdy than usual. There, standing at the front, was their science teacher, Mr. Lane, Phil's dad. He was known for his eccentricities, similarly to his son's social relations. He was the class favorite, regardless of his long winded speeches and unique views on pretty much everything.

"Sit down, sit down everyone!" he said somewhat frantically. Partially out of sympathy for him, the class took their seats in a relatively timely fashion. He cleared his throat and began wringing his hands rather nervously, regardless of giving speeches on this topic quite frequently. "You all know we're going to the Indoor today."

There was a small cheer at this, but it was quickly stifled.

"But, it is important for us all to remember: contained in this building is some of the only nature remaining as it is meant to be."

Amity rolled her eyes. As much as she liked Phil's dad, they had always disagreed on this point. Nothing was natural about the Indoor. This was a place where wild animals were kept prisoner because they'd turn rabid anywhere else. While she didn't disagree that the facilities were unprecedented when it came to importance to the planet, she thought the effort would be much more appreciated if turned to the current struggle of the natural world. Here in what used to be rural Oregon, only in 2065, the urbanization should never have been allowed to become this terrible.

"Let's try and keep it as it is meant to be," Mr. Lane continued. "As you very well know, vandalism is extremely discouraged. Also, do not harass the animals. Last year, a boy had three of his fingers bitten off by a wolf. Do you know what the boy did to deserve it? Kicked it in the side. Nature rebels. It doesn't like being pushed around."

Again, Amity rolled her eyes. Nature didn't have the guns to properly fight back, and the current situation was solid proof.

"Remember how vital these facilities are. Remember what puts clean food on your table at mealtimes. If you do this, it should be very easy for you to stay out of trouble." He smiled around at the blank, bored faces around him. "Well, let's go, then."

Everyone stood up eagerly. Phil walked out of the classroom backwards, too busy doing an impression of his father's wild gesturing to notice he was about to walk into the door. As he did, Mr. Lane caught up to him and gave him a warning glare. Phil scrambled back into a good walking position and Amity followed him out, laughing.

They progressed slowly back down the hallway, straying to the rear of the group of forty plus students. Finally, they climbed back into the bus, this time thankfully without a pigeon mishap. The ride to the Indoor was not a long one, since the facility was only about eight or nine blocks away. Amity sat so that she could properly see out the window this time, not that there was much to look at anyways. Towering buildings flanked the bus on either side, all of them the same gray dullness, blinds usually drawn. Here and there, colorful advertisements of things no one really needed peered out of the thick fog from where they were bolted to the buildings. Far above, Amity liked to imagine she could see a bit of blue sky fighting out of the gray-brown clouds.

They rounded a corner, and a vibrant building suddenly loomed over them. Its sides were decorated with a colorful mural featuring the vaguely smiling features of people gazing up at a sun that actually shone, and a sky of pale blue. There were trees and flowers, birds and beasts, and none of them looked overtly murderous. This was the Indoor. For the third time that morning, Amity rolled her eyes. What a joke it was that facilities which thrived off of the brutal urbanization could advertise prosperity and life when they only tried to produce the unnatural, to keep people surviving with ease a day longer when they should be making an effort to fix this mess humanity had created.

They pulled down an alley and into a parking lot around the rear of the facility. The bus lurched to a stop and the door sprang open. Slowly but surely, the students disembarked, with Mr. Lane shouting instructions over their heads. Amity and Phil were the last ones off, and they strode into the facility with Mr. Lane.
They entered through broad glass doors. The lobby of the building was not busy this morning; access to the Indoor was typically restricted to educational visitors and those who actually worked there. After shouting that the students be quiet, Mr. Lane hurried up to the front desk to discuss their guide, who was evidently late.

"Never gets old, does it?" Phil said, gesturing around at the high ceiling, which was also painted with a mural of life as it used to be. Amity snorted and Phil pulled a face of mock-disappointment. "Come on, you know it's fun."

"Oh yeah, loads of fun if you ignore the political idiocy practically pouring out of the walls." Regardless of this remark, Amity smiled. "But you're good at ignoring things, so this'll be amazing for you." Her smile quickly turned venomous.

"Sometimes I wonder how we can be friends with you insulting me every other minute," Phil said.

"It's my life skill. If you don't like it, go away." Just as Amity was finishing her sentence, a man stepped out from behind the counter and began addressing the students.

"Alright, alright, step this way," the man said, gesturing grandiosely down the hall and grinning from ear to ear. Amity couldn't help noticing that Mr. Lane looked intensely displeased with the situation. "I'm Chad--"
Amity stopped listening there. Anyone named Chad was not, in her opinion, worthy of her attention. She felt as unhappy as Mr. Lane looked. Phil, however, seemed oblivious. He was too busy being mindlessly cheerful, as usual.

Chad lead them down a hallway lined with blank doorways featuring only a nameplate each. Offices, which Amity could not have cared less about. At last, they emerged in a semi-circular room surrounded by glass. The room looked out over a mundane field of wheat. Well, it would've been a mundane field of wheat, were it not for the artificial sunlight streaming into it from lights bolted to the ceiling, and the walls surrounding it, walls which featured a broad painting of cows, which were extinct in the natural world.

"This is one of our many wheat fields," Chad explained unnecessarily. Everyone had been here, and knew about the indoor wheat fields. Yes, so exciting. "We have several hundred more scattered throughout the building. This way, this way."

The group turned down a side hall. This, Amity decided, was going to be a long morning.

/\/\/\/\/\

They had just sat down for a lunch prepared at the facility when it happened.

A massive monitor leered down at the room they were eating in, and it was this that gave the first warning of the events to come. The monitor had been originally playing a seemingly endless documentary on the Indoor. Amity was just thinking, if this doesn't get any more entertaining in the next half hour or so, I may seriously kill someone, when suddenly, the woman who had served them let out a gasp, and looked up from her smartphone. She fumbled around for the monitor's remote and turned something on. It was a news report.

"We are begging people to remain in their homes and not leave. The storm we detected is not dissipating, and we suspect it will be the worst we have seen for a long, long time.

"Worse than the storm, however, is this. We warn parents that this next footage will quite possibly be frightening for younger viewers." The reporter stopped talking, and the screen changed to a view of a man locked in a room, just standing there, his face completely expressionless. His skin was odd, sort of blotchy. At first, this seemed to be nothing but a normal man with a skin condition. But then, the camera got a closer view of his face. His eyes were dark and inhuman, and peered into Amity's mind in a way that made her want to look away, to run, to never meet eyes like those again. Then, he snarled viciously and hit the camera with such force that it went dead.

"This is the only victim we have managed to acquire. He is infected with the same thing the birds are; a horrible, mutated strain of the smog sickness. We are unsure how this mutation comes about, but if--" the reporter's voice broke, and tears started welling in her eyes. "--if you believe you have the smog sickness, we ask that you call this number--" a phone number, one that Mr. Lane hastily scrawled down, ran across the bottom of the screen. "--and lock yourself away, for your own protection as much as others. Now, to Brian, with the details."

Another reporter took her place on the screen. "While not much is known about the mutation, we do know these few things. The mutation can occur randomly, but the mutated strain can also be passed in undetermined ways, definitely by bite. The mutated strain no longer spreads by air; however, one should still be wary that catching the smog sickness occurs by inhalation, and the smog sickness does mutate occasionally as we now know. Like I said, bite is the only apparent way so far that we have seen it spread. The man you just saw was a lab assistant until he was bitten by one of the few patients in for this strain of the sickness. As for symptoms, well, you'd know if you had it. It can develop skin problems, as you just witnessed. The coughing keeps up. But, I'd have to say the most telltale sign is when you become so violent that you start wanting to kill anyone in your immediate vicinity." He took a pause, his face filled with despair for the things that had occurred. "Please, keep yourself updated, keep yourself safe, and most importantly, keep safe those around you."

With that, the news report returned to the storm. There was a moment of silence, and then suddenly, everyone was talking at once. They wanted to know what was going to happen to them, why this was happening to them, what they were going to do about it. Mr. Lane didn't know what to do. He merely stood there, opening and closing his mouth rapidly, unsure what he could say that could possibly assure these students that they weren't going to die.

"Amity," Phil said, and Amity tore her eyes from the screen which was now talking about the catastrophic proportions of this storm, this terrible thing eclipsed by the new plague. "Amity, my sister--" he appeared unable to finish his sentence.

This reality brought a horrible sense of dread to Amity. People she knew had the sickness. People she had been acquainted with for most of her life could be becoming mindless creatures right now, intent on slaughtering all they once loved. "I-I'm sure she'll be fine," Amity lied, unsure of no such thing.

"I have to get out of here. My mom might not even know, what if--" he went on babbling about this, but Amity's mind was on something else. When he stopped for breath, she interrupted him.

"Phil, this is important. Have you been coughing lately? You've been around your sister."

Phil's eyes widened in terror, but he looked away to cover it up. "No. I-I don't think so, no."

Amity was about to say something when Mr. Lane appeared to finally find his voice. "Please, everyone, be quiet! I need to take count, see how many of you have been in contact with the smog sickness recently." He had barely gotten to the third name when suddenly, a terrible, horrible sound rang out over the hall. Coughing. All heads turned in the direction of the sound.

Chad was trying to pretend this sound had not escaped from his mouth. He turned and made a run for it.

"Stop, please!" Mr. Lane hollered, and immediately began chasing after the infected guide, pulling a taser from his jacket pocket. They disappeared around a corner, and the students were left to fend for themselves.

It took Phil a moment to gather his wits, but when he managed it, he took off like a shot after his dad. Amity stood, took a few running strides, and caught his arm.

"Phil, you can't just go after him," she said, trying to restrain her friend. He struggled, trying to wrench his arm out of her grasp. "No seriously, Phil, listen! Your dad has a taser. We don't. What do you think we're going to do against Chad?"

"I don't know!" Phil yelled, completely unaware that they had now drawn the attention of the entire class. He stopped struggling and just stood there dejectedly. Amity released his arm. "I can't just let him go, he's my dad."

"But think about it, we'd be more hindrance than--"

Phil suddenly made a break for it. Amity supposed she should've expected it, but she thought her friend had more sense than this. What was she to do now? If she followed him, she'd be disobeying her own advice, but then again, there was a chance she could still stop him...

She made up her mind and sprinted after him.

To both Amity's relief and terror, there was a fork only a short distance ahead. She could continue forward, or she could turn left, or she could turn right. Thankfully, this meant Phil could've gone the wrong direction and would just end up somewhere safe, but this also meant he could've gone the right way and Amity might never find him. There was virtually no distinction between the three of the halls; just white walls and bland carpeting. She tried to listen for footfalls, but she could only hear the chaos in the room she had left behind.

A snarling roar pierced the air, sounding like it came from the right. Amity sped off towards it and hoped desperately that Phil had done the same, and that she hadn't wasted too much time.

She skidded around a corner and saw an open space. This room appeared to be a sort of joint between several others. Doors were spread out along the walls, at least seven of them. Against one was Chad, trying to pry the door open so viciously that his fingers were leaving tracks of blood along the wall. Amity doubted he felt it. At least the disease took you mentally away before it forced your body to kill anyone you came in contact with. Chad was probably dead, but his body, and the mutated horror that inhabited it, were still brutally alive. Mr. Lane and Phil were both advancing towards him.

"I don't want to hurt you," Mr. Lane said, and despite his apparent initial dislike for the man, his face was compassionate; it was hard not to feel sorry for anyone in that state.

Chad whipped his head around and glared at them with hateful, dull eyes, completely lacking anything human. He pulled his bloodied hand from the door and stared at them for a moment.

He dived towards Mr. Lane, probably because he was the immediate threat. Mr. Lane flinched back and tased him with relative ease. He fell to the ground, spasming faintly, and Mr. Lane tased him several more times until he was out cold. "Help me lock him up," Mr. Lane said. Amity took Chad, if he could even be called Chad anymore, by the legs, and Phil took his blotchy arms, grimacing in disgust. Thankfully, Chad was a slight man, and they could lift him somewhat easily. Mr. Lane opened the door with some difficulty, trying not to get the infected man's blood on his fingers, and peered beyond it. "Just a moment," he said, and disappeared down the hall for a moment. When he returned, he said, "Looks alright to me. Seems like it's being used for-- oh, hello."

A fussy looking older woman had just come out of the hall. "What on earth do you think--" she broke off into a scream as she saw the limp, lifeless form Amity and Phil were hoisting, and took in the blood on his hand, and the taser Mr. Lane was holding. "Murder!" she shouted, and ran back down the hall. Amity had forgotten that people were still going about their normal lives, completely unaware of the crisis at hand.

"M'am," Phil called, and started after her. "M'am, please, I promise we haven't killed anyone!"

He hadn't made it but a few steps into forward when a crack resounded, so loud that it shook the floor, knocking him off balance. It lasted a few seconds and finally stopped, leaving Amity feeling as though the world had just turned on its head. "W-what was that?" Phil stammered.

Amity gulped and looked around, but the room was essentially unchanged. "It sounded like thunder actually, but I've never heard thunder so bad that--"

"No, that was thunder," Mr. Lane said. "Remember the storm they mentioned?"

"Er, if I'm honest, I was more focussed on the zombie apocalypse part," Phil said.

Mr. Lane scowled. "It's not a zombie apocalypse; it's a pandemic. And while I suppose you weren't paying attention to the news for the last few weeks, they were talking about pollution influencing the severity of storms. They've been speculating about this for quite some time now, but they didn't expect it so soon. This will be a storm the size of a hurricane, biggest one we've ever seen inland, if the predictions are right."

"Right, because they've seen a massive storm on the radar for the last few weeks, and they were just like, 'yeah, no need to alert the public or anything,'" Phil said sarcastically.

"That's the thing. This is a bit more spontaneous than we've seen before," Mr. Lane said. "Absolutely not normal."

Phil did not look entirely satisfied, but he didn't say anything else. "Now, let's move Chad," Mr. Lane said.

"Shouldn't we go after that woman?" Amity asked.

"No, this is more important. She'll just draw attention to the situation, which is probably the best thing for it right now. Meanwhile, let's just get him locked up, and then I'll call the emergency number and see what they can do about getting us out."

Amity and Phil lifted Chad's arms and legs while Mr. Lane supported him in the middle, taser ready in case it was necessary. They took him down the hall and into a side room, which seemed to be an office, long vacated. They set Chad on the floor and backed quietly out of the room, at which point they closed the door and locked it. "Alright, let's go back to the hall where lunch was and make sure they're not tearing the place apart."

They headed back the way they came and emerged in the room Amity had come to think of as the main room. Evidently, no one was infected here, but there were obvious signs of panic among their numbers. They were talking and shouting, and a few were crying, or pretending not to be crying.

"Mr. Lane!" some of them shouted as they entered. Mr. Lane waved as though it were just the average day.

"Please, please, everyone stay quiet!" He said, and began taking count of everyone who had and hadn't been exposed to the smog sickness an abnormal amount over the last couple of days. There was some confusion as all of them seemed to count the incident with Chad, but it was eventually cleared up and confirmed that about half the class had been exposed. This did not seem to cheer anyone at all, especially not when another great booming thunder burst assaulted all their ears. Mr. Lane eventually took out his phone and dialed the emergency number.

Everyone listened raptly to his side of the conversation. "Yes, hello--" he began, and paused. "I actually would mind. I am stuck in the Indoor with a group of eighth grade students, and we have one of the infected locked up. So no, I will not hold." There was another pause, and he ran his hand down his face exhaustedly. "I was afraid you'd say that. How long?" His brow creased in worry. "No, that's too long. We-- a lot of us have been exposed to the smog sickness in the last few days. We could develop symptoms any moment now. There are also a number of unaccounted for Indoor employees." More silence. "Is that really the best you can do? Three days is-- alright. Alright, I understand. Thank you." He hung up.

"Three days," he said, addressing the group. This was met with an uproar, as is to be expected. "Quiet, quiet! In the meantime, please feel free to contact your families and make sure they're safe. You there--" he pointed to the employee who had served them lunch and alerted them of the problem. "What's your name?"

"Mary," she said nervously. "Mary Blaise."

"Do you have a taser?" he asked her.

She held one up. "Good," Mr. Lane said. "Do you suppose you could watch the students while I go and look for the other employees? And possibly send a message over the intercom to your fellow employees?"

She nodded immediately. Amity decided she liked Mary Blaise a lot more than she had liked Chad. "I can't thank you enough," Mr. Lane said. "Tase anything that looks like the man from the news." Mary Blaise nodded again, and assumed a fierce expression.

"Alright, I'll be back shortly," Mr. Lane said, and went to leave. Amity was fairly certain Phil wouldn't allow him to leave by himself. She was right. He tried to follow his dad out without saying anything. "Phil, no," Mr. Lane said, turning to his son. "I appreciate what you did when I went after Chad, but please, not again."

"I'm either coming with your permission, or I'm following you from a distance against the rules," Phil said.

"Me too," Amity said, surprising herself a little. "Which will it be, Mr. Lane?"

Mr. Lane sighed, and eyed the taser in his hand for just a moment. "I suppose I can't keep you from coming, can I?"

"Nope," Phil said, grinning. "Lead on."

They proceeded back the way they had come, unsure what they were looking for or if the infected would be smart enough to sneak attack them. They walked in silence, Phil sometimes looking as though he would like to say something, but always deciding not to. They arrived at a well lit hallway with many windows, and Amity suddenly remembered how high up they were. "Holy crap," she said, staring out through the rain streaked glass. "Holy crap," she repeated.

"Now is not the time to be appreciating the view," Mr. Lane said. "Please, if we could continue--" he stopped, seeing what Amity was seeing.

A dark, vast, swirling mass hovered above everything, looking ready to swallow up the massive buildings like they were no more than marshmallows. Debris occasionally flew by the window, and Amity watched as a tendril of lightning extended down to touch the earth. "We should get to the basement," Phil said, apparently unable to draw his eyes away from the storm.

"What?" Mr. Lane said, completely in terrified awe of the storm.

"The basement. Isn't that where people usually go when there's a storm?" Phil pried his gaze away from the window.

"Right, right," Mr. Lane said, doing the same. "I hope all the healthy employees heard Ms. Blaise's message, because I don't think we're going to have time to search the building. Come on, let's go back to the class."

/\/\/\/\/\

The third group of students were heading down the elevator when the first piece of debris came through, tearing a large hole in the side of the building and bringing with it a damp, swirling, cold wind. It appeared to be a large piece of concrete, and it was a miracle no one was standing overly close to it. They stood and stared for a moment, and then everyone lunged for their mini filters as Mr. Lane yelled for them to do so.

"Quickly, everyone, head towards the center of the building. We'll have to find another elevator there. It's not safe here," Mr. Lane said. No one disagreed.

They spent about ten minutes finding another elevator. "I get we're tired or whatever, but at this point I would've rather taken the stairs," Phil said wearily.

"It was never about being tired!" Mr. Lane scolded him. "Chad was not able to figure the mechanics of a door after he was infected, remember? If we went down the stairs, one, we could easily be overtaken by the creatures, and two, the stairs are all coiled around the outer edges of the building, where we could be crushed by flying debris, whereas if we took an elevator, they would not be able to follow us down, and we would be nearer the center of the building, well protected. Ah, here we are." The elevator was in a hallway. Mr. Lane voiced his opinion that the elevator be somewhere more open, where they could see any infected coming, but Amity vouched for sending someone on watch further down the hall. She volunteered herself, but Mr. Lane would stand for none other than himself when it came to this duty.

The others down in three groups; remaining students and the first half of the employees, then the second, then Mr. Lane, Amity, and Phil. It was not a pleasant wait, but Amity and Phil would not be in any way persuaded to take the first group down. Just as the door closed and the second group began their descent, a horrible cross between a snarl and a howl rang out down the hall. Mr. Lane dashed quickly back over to them. "Oh no," Mr. Lane said. He readied the taser and the three of them backed up against the elevator door.

"Why didn't you tase it already?" Amity asked.

"I'm not sure how much battery this has left. I meant to change it last week, but I never got around to it, and after Chad..." he trailed off into silence for a second. "I don't want to waste what could possibly be my last shot if we've got a chance of getting in the elevator first.

There were several thumps, one after another. Footfalls, slow ones. "It's not exactly hurrying along, is it?" Amity said curiously.

"Unfortunately, neither is our elevator," Phil responded.

The infected rounded the corner an instant later. It was the woman whom Mr. Lane had spoken to upon entering the facility. She might've looked pretty once, but now she looked as though she had come straight from a nightmare. She had an extremely heavy limp; Amity wondered if she had gotten it before or after she had been infected.

She approached slowly, and finally, she arrived within tasing distance. The barbs shot out and-- nothing. The taser was dead.

"This is less than good," Mr. Lane said.

"Uhuh," Amity agreed, and Phil nodded. Both of their eyes were wide with terror.

A few seconds ticked by as Amity's heart beat faster with fear, threatening to break out of her rib cage. She was going to be bitten, then the elevator was going to open, and she was going to go down and kill everyone. No, no, that couldn't happen, no-- the door slid open with it's usual cheery ding of salvation.

"Yes!" Mr. Lane shouted as they stepped backwards just once and they found themselves in safety, just a hand's reach away from being infected. Phil, thinking quickly, kicked the infected in the gut. She toppled backwards and the door slid closed.

"That-- I-- wow," Amity said, unable to get out a complete sentence in her sheer relief. "That was close."

"Very close," Phil agreed, and Mr. Lane hit the basement button.

As they all calmed down and Amity's breathing slowed, she heard the tiny refrain of elevator music. She burst out laughing. The world was ending, but elevator music remained constant. Phil caught on and was laughing as well in a moment. Even Mr. Lane was laughing, and as such, Amity was wiping away a tear as the door slid open, and they were thrust back into trouble.

Two infected had just come around the corner as the elevator doors slid open. They must've heard the ding, because now, they were sprinting down the hall towards them. They all knew the door would have no time to close before the infected reached them. There wasn't a single second to think; all three of them charged forwards, bowling into the infected, praying they would not be bitten.

Amity knocked the first one down with ease, purely relying on the advantage of surprise. Phil and Mr. Lane knocked theirs down easily as well. It seemed they were home free, but they still had to run faster, and these were creatures who felt no pain...

They hurtled around a corner, sprinting as quickly as possible. Amity's heart pounded in her ears; her breath came in quick gasps. Adrenaline granted her stamina, but it wouldn't last. They rounded three more corners and--

"Mary?" Mr. Lane shouted. Mary Blaise, in this moment to all of them, an angel, was at the end of the hallway looking shocked. She quickly pulled herself together and drew her taser. She dispatched the infected easily, tasing them in the head a few times each, out cold.

"Mary Blaise, you angel in disguise!" Mr. Lane exclaimed joyously. They hadn't thought they'd survive uninfected. "How did you find us? What were you doing here?"

"I came over to make sure you made it out safely. Good thing I did, huh?" Mary Blaise said, somewhat sheepishly. All of them would've hugged her although she was nearly a perfect stranger, but at the moment, they had more important things to do.

"I can't thank you enough," Mr. Lane said. "Let's go. Phil?"

Phil was clutching his arm. Red liquid seeped through his fingers. He pulled them away to reveal-- a bit mark, human sized. Horror spread across his face. "Go," he croaked. "Go without me."

"No," Amity said, and her response was mirrored by Mr. Lane. "Phil, we'll-- we'll make this okay. You're going to be fine."

"No, I'm not, and if you don't leave soon, you won't be either." He tried to look brave, but it wasn't working. "Please, just leave. I don't want to kill you."

"But, Phil..." Amity couldn't cry, she was too shocked.

"Come find me when there's a cure, okay?" Phil said, and tried to smile. "Goodbye, dad. Goodbye, Amity."

"Goodbye, Phil," Amity said, and the tears started to come. She'd sort of taken Phil for granted, now that she thought about it. All those times she insulted him when he was the only one willing to be her friend.

"Goodbye, son," Mr. Lane said. He took Amity by the shoulder and pulled her down the hall, just as Phil's eyes started to go dark.

They ran until they arrived at the room where everyone had evidently taken shelter. There were questions, there were concerns, but Amity was in no mood to answer any of them. All she could do was think. Three days, they'd be here, living in the basement of the Indoor. Three days to mourn the loss of Phil, three days to mourn the losses the planet had suffered, three days to survive.

/\/\/\/\/\

Rescue arrived when it had said it would, taking them all to safety. There were interviews, them being a remarkable story of survival and all, but Amity didn't feel like partaking in them. She merely said, "If I had hired us to manage this planet, I'd have fired us by now," and refused to say anything else. She became sort of famous for this in the time that followed.

A cure was developed with remarkable speed. Unlike the common cold, the smog sickness had always been treatable, and the medicines given for this only needed some adjustments. Phil was found dead in the rubble of one of the upper floors of the Indoor, however, and never got to be treated. The planet put more effort into fixing itself than it ever had, but the problem was enormous, and it wasn't even slightly back to normal until a long time after Amity had died of old age.

Despite the losses, earth became a nicer place, and for that, these events will always be remembered.

I'm sorry for that ending. XD