Disintegration

quiet.
    He heard footsteps in the corridor outside. He picked up his torch and went out to investigate. It was Martin. He looked tired and preoccupied.
    “Come to complain about the noise again?” Hollis asked.
    Martin shook his head. “Would it do any good?”
    “Probably not. What’s up?”
    “Just been down by the pool.”
    “And…? Got a problem with your pet?”
    “Don’t take the piss.” He sighed. “She’s acting strangely.”
    “Stranger than usual?”
    “It’s the noise this lot are making,” he explained, nodding toward the Steelbrooke Suite and cringing as Webb threw another beer bottle onto a pile of empties. “She’s not used to it and it’s freaking her out. We’ve survived here for as long as we have by keeping quiet and staying out of sight. What you’re doing now is going to undo all of that.”
    “Don’t be overdramatic. They’re just letting off steam, they’re not doing any harm. Listen, I’ll talk to them in the morning and—”
    “You don’t understand,” Martin snapped, his voice angrier but the volume still restrained.
    “What don’t I understand?” Hollis snapped back. “As far as I can see you’ve spent all your time locked in here with your head down. You haven’t actually seen what’s happening to the rest of the world. I have, and I know that we’ll be safe here.”
    “Come with me,” Martin interrupted. He turned and walked away, leaving Hollis with little option but to follow. He knew exactly where Martin was taking him, back to the body he kept trapped in the office so he could prove his point. But what point was he trying to make? Sure enough, they turned down the corridor which led to the swimming pool.
    “Look, Martin,” Hollis protested, “I promise you I’ll speak to them tomorrow. I won’t let this happen again. I’ll make them see that—”
    He immediately stopped speaking when they reached the window through which they usually watched the corpse. He shone his torch into the room and jumped back when the creature slammed against the glass. Its dead eyes followed his every move and its numb, unresponsive fingers clawed pointlessly at the window, leaving a crisscross hatching of blood-tinged, greasy smears. It slid along as he approached, keeping as close to him as it could.
    “Why’s she doing that?” he asked, suddenly concerned. “She’s never done that before, has she? She’s always tried to get out of the way, not followed like that.”
    “You see what I mean? She’s scared,” Martin hissed, turning back and walking away, almost as if he didn’t want the corpse to hear. He disappeared down the west-wing corridor. Hollis followed, breaking into a jog to try and catch up. Martin stopped when he reached the foot of the staircase which led to the rooms on the first and second floors.
    “Thing is, Greg,” he whispered, “I know you’ve managed to stay alive by doing things your way, and that’s worked for you. Christ, the very fact that we’re both standing here now is proof that we’ve all succeeded.”
    “What are you trying to say?”
    Martin thought carefully for a moment, choosing his words and finally beginning to calm down.
    “What I’m saying,” he began, “is that our methods of survival have to be adapted to our surroundings. Where you were before, it suited you to make a bloody huge noise and to fight and destroy them.”
    “And what about here?”
    “Here things are different,” he immediately replied.
    “How?”
    “We’re relying on the fact that they don’t know where we are.”
    Rather than explain further Martin began to climb the stairs and beckoned Hollis to follow. He sprinted up each flight until he’d reached the top floor. Halfway down the corridor was room West 37—his room. He opened the door and went inside. Hollis walked with him into his remarkably clean, comfortable, and well-ordered living space. Martin stood at the window which overlooked the car park and the countryside below. Hollis moved closer. He couldn’t see anything but the usual never-ending blackness.
    “What exactly am I supposed to be looking at?” he asked.
    “Down there,” Martin replied, opening the window slightly and pointing. The air outside was cold. Hollis shivered as a blustery gust hit his face.
    “What?” he asked again.
    “Look down there on the other side of the road. What can you see?”
    Hollis stared, his eyes slowly becoming used to the outside gloom. He could see the thick, protective