Red Plague Boxed Set

by Anna Abner

  I darted for Ben. “Someone’s coming. Can you run?”

  He shook his head, whipping blood droplets from his hair.

  “Never mind.” I slid my hand over Ben’s brow. “It’ll be fine. Just stay here, and keep your eyes closed.” Maybe I could talk them out of killing us if they never saw his eyes.

  I stood up and put myself between Ben and the van. The driver spotted me and rolled to a stop.

  I had no weapon. No leverage. I didn’t even have shoes.

  The side door squealed open and men tumbled out. Two. Three. Four men. All armed. They stood in a cluster with weapons loosely aimed in my direction.

  “State your name!” the man in front shouted.

  “Don’t point your guns at me,” I snapped, beyond tired of it. “I’m not threatening you.”

  “He said, state your name,” a second man yelled at me. The van rocked as at least one more person climbed out.

  By the way they all shifted their gazes to something behind me, I knew Ben was on his feet. I slid backwards a step and Ben wobbled beside me, silent.

  “Look at his eyes!” one of the men exclaimed.

  Someone else demanded, “Is that a red zombie?”

  “Stop pointing your guns at us!” I screamed.

  Ben pulled me directly behind him and took a step back, forcing me to move or fall. “I told you,” he muttered near my ear, “to stop risking your life for me.”

  “Freeze,” the leader warned.

  The final occupant of the white van pushed through the others, and I caught sight of his face.

  Pollard?

  Relief battled with confusion, and my knees wobbled.

  “Maya?” Pollard’s face lit up and I knew he’d been more scared for me than I had been for him, which made me feel like a monster on top of all the other emotions.

  “Put the guns down,” he told the others as he bee-lined for me. “This is her. This is the girl!”

  He pulled me into a hard hug, and kissed me. A rough, possessive kiss. Instinctively, I wiggled away.

  “Pollard,” I admonished, wiping his taste from my lips. I no longer had any doubt about my feelings for Pollard. He would always be my friend, maybe even one of my best friends, but I had no feelings for him beyond friendship. In fact, his kiss did nothing but make me feel uncomfortable. Like kissing my brother.

  “I can’t believe it’s you.” He gripped my upper arms hard. “I thought you got caught. We were going to Camp Carson to rescue you.” He laughed as if he couldn’t keep the joy and relief inside anymore.

  “You’re here,” I blurted out.

  “You cut your hair.” Pollard’s gaze shifted to the man beside me, and he clapped Ben on the shoulder. “You look like crap. You gonna make it?”

  When he didn’t get an answer, Pollard asked me, “What happened? Are you hurt?”

  “I’m fine. Ben is—” And as I said it he listed far to the side.

  Pollard was quicker than I was and grabbed him by the shirt, keeping him on his feet.

  “You’re not okay. You’re bleeding all over the place.” Pollard slipped under Ben’s arm and led him around his new friends. “I’m taking him to the hospital.”

  “Is he a zombie?” at least two people asked at the same time.

  “He was,” Pollard said, leading the way toward the white van. “But he’s not anymore.”

  We all crammed into the vehicle and one of the men drove us away into the suburbs of Washington, D.C. I sat squished up against Ben, his other side on the vehicle’s frame. The AC was on full blast, blowing stale air that smelled like sweat against my face. And the CD player was on, too. Some hip hop dance song with a quick tempo and a catchy chorus.

  “You’re fine,” I told Ben, curling protectively around him. I put pressure on his head wound, and he winced, his forehead dropping onto my shoulder. I was afraid he had passed out. Again.

  “You’re going to be fine,” I whispered, smoothing dark, wet hair from his brow. “Because you have to be. You hear me?”

  A grumble for an answer was all I got.

  Chapter Seventeen

  The van pulled up to a homemade, mishmash fence and a gate.

  “This place is awesome,” Pollard said as one of the men hopped out to open the enclosure. “You’ll see. It’s what we were trying to find all along, Maya.” He caught my eye. “They’re good people. Clever. And kind.”

  We drove left along a narrow fenced street toward a tall cube of a building at the end of the lane. The survivors had fenced off certain thoroughfares and important buildings, keeping Reds out.

  “Are Hunny and Juliet here, too?” I asked. “The three of you made it?”

  “We tried to find you on the beach,” Pollard said. “We waited for over twenty-four hours. When you never showed, we came here and met these folks. They welcomed us in. Juliet and Hunny work together at the farm. That’s what they call this little patch of dirt and chickens near the river.”

  The van pulled up to a hospital. A real one.

  Ben perked up as we shuffled toward the emergency room doors.

  “I won’t leave your side,” I said, holding him tight around the waist. “I swear no one is going to hurt you.”

  The first floor emergency department looked like any other big city ER except there were no patients and only two women loitered at the reception desk.

  “What happened?” the redheaded female in blue scrubs asked me, her hands gently probing Ben’s bloodied shirt.

  “We were attacked. He lost a lot of blood.”

  The redhead looked up into Ben’s face and stumbled back a step. “Oh, your eyes.” She clasped her hands to her chest. “You’re a zombie.”

  “No,” he growled, his arm tightening around me. “I’m not.”

  “He’s been cured,” I tried to explain. “Please help us. He needs fluids and antibiotics and probably stitches.”

  “He can speak.” The woman froze, stunned.

  “And feel emotion,” I said pointedly. “Like fear. And pain. Can we come in, or not?”

  The woman shook herself. “Yes. Of course. Let me help.” She led the way past the reception area and into the emergency department.

  “Maya.” Pollard motioned for me to join him outside.

  I shook my head sharply. “I won’t leave Ben.”

  He sent me a hurt look, and then disappeared. I wished I could talk to him and not only discover everything that had happened with him and Juliet and Hunny after we had escaped Camp Carson, but to explain what had happened between Ben and I. How my feelings had changed. How I had changed.

  But I would not abandon Ben.

  “Are you a doctor?” I asked the redheaded woman.

  “No, a nurse practitioner, but I know enough to help. I’m Beatrice, by the way.”

  “Maya,” I said, shaking her hand.

  “The other nurse, Kelly, went to get our doctor. She’s going to be really excited to meet you. She’s a chemist.”

  “My dad was a chemist,” I said softly.

  We struggled across the wide foyer and into the emergency department. I thought we were home free. But Ben saw the gurney Beatrice was prepping for him, and he put on the brakes.

  He didn’t say anything, but he forced us back into a wall.

  “It’s okay,” I assured, trying to get his attention. He eyes were pinned on the gurney. “We don’t have to.”

  In fact, no, he had suffered enough. “Sorry,” I said to the ladies. “We’re leaving.”

  We backtracked the way we had come. At a bench near the ambulance bay, he finally stopped fleeing and sat. Not on the bench, though, on the cold concrete beneath it.

  “Look at me,” I said, crouching beside him, not sure what to do. Was it a panic attack? Or something else? “You’re safe. I’m right here.”

  He clutched my hand like he’d never let go and bowed his head, raggedly breathing through the fear.

  At the sound of sneakers on concrete I whirled, standing in front
of Ben like a human shield. It was Beatrice leading another woman in a nice pants suit.

  I didn’t care how pleasant they seemed. Smart had been friendly at first, too. And he’d stolen Ben away from me for days, doing unspeakable things behind a locked door. No. Never again.

  I pulled Stein’s empty handgun from the waistband of Ben’s jeans and gripped it in both hands. I didn’t point it at them, not exactly, but it was aimed at the ground in front of them. And I saw with grim pride the muzzle didn’t waiver at all.

  “He said no.”

  Beatrice stopped so fast she nearly toppled forward. Her hands whipped into the air. “I’m a nurse. I don’t hurt people.” She jerked her chin at the woman behind her. “I brought the doctor to meet you, that’s all.”

  I didn’t holster my weapon.

  A bright-eyed, dark-haired woman jogged toward us, zeroing in on Ben. “I didn’t believe her,” she breathed, not even glancing at the gun. “I always hoped, but… Look at his eyes.”

  “Ben Sawyer.” He extended his hand to shake, and she jumped at the chance to touch him.

  “My name is Dr. Lutan,” the lady said, coming forward as if she wasn’t afraid at all. “Put that away,” she said to me. “You’re not in any danger.”

  “I’ve heard that before,” I said. The gun remained in my hands.

  Fingers brushed my calf from behind and settled on the back of my knee. “It’s okay,” Ben said. “I’m all right.”

  I wasn’t so sure, but I slid the weapon into the waistband of my pants near the small of my back.

  “They’re not going to hurt you,” I said.

  “Of course we’re not,” the doctor assured. “I used to be a doctor. I like to think I still am one.” She knelt in front of Ben. “Tell me how you got that head wound.” She pulled a penlight from the pocket of her white coat and, with a hand under his chin, checked his pupils.

  She gestured to Beatrice, who nodded and took notes on a small pad of paper.

  “We were attacked by a pack of Reds,” I explained. “One of them hit him with a mailbox.”

  “Did he lose consciousness?” She shone the light again. “Follow my finger with your eyes, please.”

  “Yeah. For a couple seconds.”

  “You have a concussion,” she said. “If you come inside, I can set up an IV and put you on observation for a few hours to rule out anything more serious.”

  Ben didn’t even consider it. “No.”

  “Okay. Plan B,” the doc said to me. “Give him lots of clear fluids and keep him comfortable. He can have over-the-counter pain meds starting tomorrow, so long as he doesn’t get worse.”

  “Fine.”

  “He needs stitches on his forehead,” the doctor added.

  “Maya can do it,” Ben said.

  The doctor looked dubious.

  “We’ve been using Dermabond.” I showed her my palm. “I can do it, if you have any.”

  “Of course. I’ll send supplies with you.” She put the light away and said to the nurse, “Bring me a thermometer and a BP cuff, please.” She unwound a stethoscope from her neck. “Can I listen to your heart and lungs?”

  Ben nodded, and the doc gave him a quick vitals check, adding temperature and blood pressure when the nurse returned.

  “How did you counteract the symptoms of 212R?” she asked, flashing the little light in his eyes again. “Unbelievable…”

  “My dad created an antiserum,” I said, boiling it down, “and Ben injected it.” If only I had my song diary I could share my notes with the doctor, but the leather notebook was gone. Just like my sword. And my guitar.

  “Who was your dad?” she exclaimed.

  “Blake Solomon. He worked in Raleigh.”

  Her delicate black eyebrows arched. “You’re kidding. I’ve heard of him. He did good things with the CDC.”

  “Yeah.” He had.

  “I know you’re not a fan of hospitals,” she said to Ben, pulling a capped hypodermic needle from her pocket. “All I’m asking for is this much blood.” She showed him the syringe. “Because you are a miracle, as far as I’m concerned, and I want to spread that miracle to as many other infected people as possible.”

  I looked to Ben, who met my eye. He smiled tiredly and then nodded.

  The doctor was quick about it.

  Clutching the blood sample in her fist, she said to me, “I want you to go to my apartment. It’s on the first floor. You’ll be comfortable there. Help yourself to anything you find. I have to get this under a microscope.” To her nurse, she added, “Beatrice, collect everything they need to clean and dress his head wound, and then show them to my place.”

  “It’s fine,” I started to argue. We should find Pollard. He must have a place to live. I felt safer with him than in another strange room.

  “My apartment is the only furnished unit on the first floor,” the doc argued. “Believe me, you’ll like it. Just go. I’ll find you later.” She rushed back into the hospital.

  “Can you stand up?” I asked, offering Ben my hand.

  He stood without my help, holding onto the bench.

  “We have a golf cart,” Beatrice said. “Give me two minutes.” She hurried off toward the ambulance bay.

  Gazing up into Ben’s bloodied face, I said, “We can leave anytime you want.”

  He smiled tiredly. “I was about to say the same thing to you.”

  Beatrice returned in a battery-powered cart and drove us down a walled lane to a high-rise condo building with several clean and well-fed people milling around the front gardens. When they saw us approach, two of the men ran over to help.

  “What happened?” the younger one asked.

  Beatrice directed them to Dr. Lutan’s ground-floor apartment. “He was attacked, but he’ll be okay.”

  We shuffled through a nicely furnished living room, down a short hall, and laid Ben on the bed in the master bedroom. Our helpful neighbors left before Beatrice cleaned and dressed his head wound. It needed stitches, but he stayed calm while she sewed him up.

  “I have to go back to the hospital,” she said, removing her bloody latex gloves and tossing them in the trash. “But come get me if you need me.”

  I climbed onto the edge of the bed and smiled encouragingly. “We’re finally here.”

  He turned his face away and closed his eyes. “Finally here.” So why did he sound so sad?

  Chapter Eighteen

  Pollard didn’t even knock, just walked right into the condo and straight into the bedroom where Ben was curled on the bed sheets.

  “Maya.” A big smile lit up his face as he stretched out a hand for me. “I was so worried about you. I thought Smart must have caught you sneaking into his lab.”

  I glanced at Ben, who coiled around himself a little tighter at the mention of Camp Carson. Irritated at Pollard’s brashness, I gestured for him to leave the room.

  “I’ll be back in a minute,” I told Ben.

  He closed his eyes, but didn’t say anything.

  I followed Pollard into the living room. Amazingly, he looked exactly as I remembered him. Scruffy whiskers on his jaw, messy blond hair, and the prettiest pair of blue eyes I’d ever seen. Same camouflage cargo pants. Somewhere along the way he had picked up a red T-shirt with the letters “USMC” in gold across the chest.

  I pulled self-consciously at my dirty, bloodstained top and ripped jeans. I felt undone, as if all I’d been through in the last month had taken me apart piece by piece and then stitched me back together into something new.

  “You kissed me.” It was all I could think to say. It was kind of stuck in my mind. I thought we’d broken up in Camp Carson, but the first chance he got he’d kissed me. And right in front of Ben. Even if Ben didn’t say anything, I knew he was hurt.

  “I missed you.”

  He folded me into a hug just like in the old days, but I didn’t feel safe or comforted. I felt suffocated.

  “I was so worried about you.” He pecked the top of my head. “I co
uldn’t sleep. I had nightmares every time I nodded off.”

  On our trip north I hadn’t thought of him much at all. I’d left most of my feelings for Pollard behind in Camp Carson.

  “You can’t do that anymore.” I struggled out of his embrace. And then, to cover the awkwardness I said, “I figured you’d be Juliet’s boyfriend by now.”

  He scowled. “Seriously? You thought I had moved on? Forgotten you? Hopped into bed with the first girl I saw?”

  “No.” Of course not. Pollard was too honorable to do anything like that. “But we talked about this at camp.”

  “We had a fight. People have fights.”

  “It was more than a fight for me.” I took a deep breath and said, "I care about you, Pollard. So much. But I want to be friends. Nothing more.”

  He started nodding and didn’t stop for a long time. “You and Ben,” he said with anguished finality.

  “It’s always been him. From the very beginning,” I agreed. “I don’t want to hurt you—”

  “You care about me as a friend.” He nodded some more.

  I almost reached for his arm, but I was afraid touching him would only confuse him. “Please tell me you understand.”

  He looked like he wouldn’t give me the satisfaction.

  At the point his silence began to sting, a squeal erupted from the foyer. I turned as Hunny streaked into the doctor’s apartment and barreled into me. Laughing, I had to use some fancy footwork to keep us both upright.

  “Hunny,” I exclaimed, holding her as tight as I dared without cracking ribs. “I missed you!”

  I realized I wasn’t just laughing when salty tears stung at both eyes. Because Hunny Green had become really important to me.

  “Oh, Hunny,” I cooed into her soft blonde curls. “I missed you so much.”

  “Can I stay with you tonight?” She jumped up and down, an excited little bunny rabbit, narrowly missing head-butting me in the chin.

  “You better,” I said, smiling through the tears.

  “So, that’s it.” Pollard stared down at me as if I might change my mind and say something different.

  There was nothing else for me to say. “I’ll see you later, okay?”

  He left, and I pulled Hunny toward the sofa where I hugged her to my chest, enjoying being close to her again. For a couple minutes she played with my shorter hair and then made faces at the blood smears on my arms and enjoyed inspecting my sliced palm through the clear liquid sutures.