V-Virus Infected 1

by Dahlhaus, Jacky

  Not such a dramatic issue compared to the current one, but I now understood how frustrated Charlie must have felt. I looked at him again. This time Charlie did return my stare. His expression told me two things. One was, ‘I told you he was an idiot,’ the other being, ‘Sorry, but I can’t help you.’ I slumped down in the chair.

  “Okay, fine. Think what you want to think then, Mr. Finkle.”

  I gripped the armrests until my knuckles were white. Nobody said anything. I forced myself to take deep breaths, remembering Charlie’s words in the canoe. I felt my heartbeat slow down slightly.

  “Do you mind if we stay here? We’re tired and would like to sleep on the couches.”

  “Yeah, sure. Be my guests. The more the merrier,” Mr. Finkle said cheerfully. After all I had said, it appeared he still didn’t understand the seriousness of the situation.

  Charlie and I got up without a word, picked a couch each, and fell asleep in no time.

  Chapter 14

  Charlie and I woke up later that afternoon, and we were hungry. We checked the staff refrigerator full of hope. It was as good as empty. There were only some green sandwiches in it that were about to walk off by themselves.

  Mr. Finkle didn’t let us vandalize the snack machine. He lent us some money, but it was only enough for one snack each as it was ‘against his principle to lend money to colleagues.’ We weren’t hungry enough to venture out and visit a supermarket yet, so we had to listen to our stomachs rumbling for the rest of the afternoon.

  To keep our minds off food, we spent the day reading old newspapers. It was scary to recall how the pandemic had started in the cities, and how little had been done to stop it from spreading.

  We had a sense of security in the big building. Mr. Finkle had told us that he hadn’t seen nor heard of any attack by the infected in Bullsbrook, but he also admitted he hadn’t talked to anyone over the weekend.

  Early in the evening, Charlie and I went back to napping again, so we could stay awake and be vigilant during the night. I woke up a few times, plagued by nightmares, and I tossed and turned on the narrow couch. Finally, I drifted off into a deeper sleep.

  ***

  When I woke up, I was fully awake. A cold chill made my skin ripple when I saw the surrounding darkness. A sense of time eluded me for a moment. I looked around for Charlie and Mr. Finkle and was relieved when I found Charlie still asleep on the couch opposite me. Craning my neck to see over the back of my couch, I scanned the rest of the staffroom. Mr. Finkle had gone. I rolled off the couch, crouched my way to Charlie, and woke him gently. He didn’t need a lot of rousing and looked alert from the moment he opened his eyes.

  “Mr. Finkle’s gone,” I whispered.

  “Good riddance,” he said, sitting up and rubbing his face.

  “Charlie, we can’t leave him on his own. He’s got no idea what these infected are like. We’ve got to find him.” I got to my feet.

  “I know. I was just kidding. He may be an idiot, but he’s still a human, blah blah blah.”

  I put one hand on my hip and opened my mouth but refrained from replying.

  I better not say anything to keep him in this frame of mind if we want to save Mr. Finkle.

  “He’s probably on patrol through the school,” Charlie said, “making sure nobody steals a pencil.” He stood up as well and stretched.

  I shot Charlie my patented ‘teacher-not-approving-of-student-behavior’ look.

  “What?” he said, “It’s probably what he’s doing, isn’t it?”

  Okay, touché.

  Charlie grabbed his blowtorch, I picked up my flashlight, and we went into the hallway. The old, main school building had a U-shape with the staffroom at the center of the first floor, staircases on the outer corners, and entrances on the inside of the ‘arms’ facing each other. The decor of the building was still original, with little yellow tiles on the floor in the hallways and green, marbled linoleum on the classroom floors. The sound of our steps in the hallway echoed through the building, so we tried to tiptoe. We were almost on the stairs when we heard footsteps above us. We stopped in our tracks, listening intently. It sounded like only one person, and I assumed it had to be Mr. Finkle. We hurried up the stairs, peeked around the corner, and saw Mr. Finkle walking away from us three quarters down the length of the hallway.

  “Mr. Finkle,” I called, and he turned around.

  “Ah, you’re awake again. No need to join me, everything’s okay.”

  As he was talking, something caught my eye. From our position, I noticed something moving in the schoolyard below. I stepped toward the window and immediately became paralyzed with fear. Infected were running across the schoolyard. One of them looked up and saw me. He said something to the others, and now they were heading for the entrance of the building. My eyes went wide. I suppressed a scream by jamming a hand over my mouth. Seeing my reaction, Charlie glanced out of the window as well. He, too, was visibly shocked.

  “Mr. Finkle, you really need to come with us now!” he yelled.

  By the time Mr. Finkle stepped toward the window and looked out, the infected had already disappeared into the building. He saw nothing suspicious.

  “I’m not having any of your charades. Go back to the staffroom if you want to, or leave, but let me do my rounds.” He turned and walked away from us.

  “Mr. Finkle, please come with us,” I pleaded.

  He waved a hand above his head without turning around.

  At that moment, the group of infected appeared from the stairs in front of Mr. Finkle. He started to lecture them about trespassing but didn’t get a chance to finish his sentence. The first infected to reach him hit him square in the face and threw him over his shoulder. It all happened so fast. The group now surged toward us. Charlie and I turned on the spot and fled down the stairs. We skipped as many steps as we could, but as we hit the first floor, we heard them reach the stairs above.

  We continued running the length of the hallway, and I desperately thought of a place to hide. By the time we neared the other set of stairs, we could hear the infected closing in behind us. Since we couldn’t keep running in circles, I motioned to Charlie to follow me to the exit, thinking there’d be a better chance of escape outside the school. Thankfully, it seemed Charlie agreed with me as he followed me without hesitation.

  After crashing through the doors, we ran into the schoolyard only to halt abruptly with shock from the scene we encountered. I thought I was having déjà vu.

  Chapter 15

  Hungry vampires chased screaming, horrified people. In the short time that had passed since I saw the first group of infected in the schoolyard, other infected had herded a group of victims into the center like they had on the tent site at the campground. Some people were fighting back, with guns and shovels, but most of them were just trying to run away, adding to the melee. It was a scene of chaos and despair.

  I scrambled to think of what to do next. There were too many infected here and no time to come up with a plan. We needed to get away from the schoolyard but couldn’t turn back. We were stuck between a rock and a hard place. And the rock was approaching rapidly.

  I dashed along the side of the schoolyard, avoiding the thick of the confusion. I hoped to reach Charlie’s classroom in the Arts building where we could pick up something deadly to defend ourselves with.

  I had run for a few seconds when I realized Charlie wasn’t following me. I turned my head to look for him but couldn’t see him in the turmoil. We were separated.

  My heart skipped a beat, my mouth went dry, and I faltered. I wanted to call out to him, but before I could do so, one of the chasing vampires set his eyes on me. As our eyes locked, my throat closed up with terror. The hairs on the back of my neck rose as I took him in. The guy was stocky, with curly hair, dressed in a knitted sweater.

  I never liked men in knitted sweaters.

  My initial reaction was not caused by his appearance. His eyes held a hunger that was more than blood alone. The aversio
n to this man gave me a boost to start running again and go that little bit faster. The vampire raced after me and in no time was within an arm’s length away. He reached out, and I could feel him touching my jacket. I curved my back forward to prevent him from grabbing me. I didn’t know if I was about to go down or get another chance to live. Willing my legs to carry on after a brief stumble, I dared a quick glance backward. The curly-haired vampire had fallen but was already getting up again. I had no time to think about him as there were other infected to dodge.

  I saw two infected chasing a young man into the Arts building, so this was a no go now. I decided to go around it, as far from the crowd as possible. Mr. Ugly Sweater was closing in again.

  A woman crossed my path, forcing me to change direction to avoid getting in the way of the vampire chasing her. I veered to the left, but the pursuing infected, in his own attempt to avoid me, had also changed course in the same direction. We collided, crashing to the ground, rolling over each other. We ended up with him lying on his back and me half on top of him.

  Our faces close, I looked into his eyes, and my surroundings disappeared. The eyes were a beautiful dark brown, darker than I had ever seen, and they sucked me into his universe. Here, I was alone with this beautiful being. Instantly, I knew I had found my soulmate. Neither of us moved, lost in this eternal moment. The chaos that surrounded us didn’t matter. I wanted nothing else but the moment to never end.

  My survival instinct kicked back in when I blinked and registered his fangs. My feelings of overwhelming love were exchanged for fear of nearly the same intensity. I had to get away from this killer. I jumped up and tried to run away, but he grabbed the corner of my jacket, halting my movement.

  At that moment Mr. Ugly Sweater crashed into me and knocked me off my feet. My back hit the ground hard. His heavy body crashed onto mine. I saw triumph in his eyes and realized I’d been wrong to think my disgust for him couldn’t get any worse. I thought I was done for when my brown-eyed, infected soulmate, Mr. Perfect, grabbed Mr. Ugly Sweater’s fist and twisted it behind his back, forcing him off me.

  When I was freed of the heavy body, I took the opportunity to escape. I shuffled backward a little distance before turning over to get up in the opposite direction. As I turned, I came face to face with two black leather—obviously fake—high-heeled boots standing in front of me.

  How do people walk in high heels like that?

  Scrambling to my feet, I saw two long, skinny legs in black leather—again fake—skin-tight leggings above the boots.

  Someone’s got a fake leather fetish.

  The legs went up and up.

  These legs remind me of a black widow spider.

  I came out of a half-crouch as my vision went further upward. The legs were attached to a long, slim body, clad in a black, plastic top. The person, who obviously loved black and fake clothing, was dressed in a long, black, plastic-looking coat.

  On top of the body was a face. Not a particularly beautiful face, but definitely a face that made you look twice. The features were even, the skin smooth, and the lips full, painted a dark red. The attractive but stern face was surrounded by a black bob hairdo.

  That’s probably a wig.

  When I was finally upright, the long arms of this long, skinny woman grabbed me by my upper arms and threw me aside with ease. For the third time in the last ten seconds, I hit the ground.

  I am really getting tired of being thrown about.

  My knees scraped the rough playground concrete, and my pants were probably torn through. My hands were certainly sporting grit-in-flesh wounds but weren’t sore.

  Don’t worry, Kate. The pain will come.

  I whirled around. Ms. Black Widow didn’t seem intent on grabbing me again. Instead, she calmly walked over to Mr. Perfect who was in a stand-off with Mr. Ugly Sweater.

  “You take care of him,” Mr. Perfect said to Ms. Black Widow after she rested her hand on Mr. Perfect’s shoulder. She was nearly as tall as Mr. Perfect. Ms. Black Widow stepped forward and pushed Mr. Ugly Sweater in the chest, away from us. Mr. Perfect turned around to face me.

  I gasped and kicked myself for not using those precious seconds to get further away from these killers. Jumping up, I ignored the burning sensation in my hands and knees and began to run away. Mr. Perfect easily caught up with me and, by putting his arm around my waist, guided me in a one-hundred-and-eighty-degree turn that took away my speed. My arms were still free, though, and I aimed a swing at his head. Unfortunately, I had dropped the flashlight when I collided with him earlier.

  He laughed, sporting perfect white teeth, and easily blocked my arms. He grabbed my wrists and thrust them behind my back, pulling my body into his as he did so. I had no option but to lock eyes with him.

  Here I go again.

  Again, I drowned in his eyes. I would have lost my footing if it wasn’t for Mr. Perfect holding me up.

  “Resistance is futile, you know,” he said, almost whispered it. His vibrant, warm tones drew my eyes to his mouth. He smiled, and I could hardly drag my stare away from those kissable lips.

  Just to make sure he wasn’t kidding, I tried to break free from his grip.

  “Ah, a feisty one you are,” he said, tightening his grip on my wrists.

  You should have said that in a little, green alien’s voice. And no, I am just somebody who is very attached to her humanity.

  He must have seen what I thought from the look on my face as he laughed. He had the cutest laugh.

  “Let’s go,” he said. He let go of my wrists. Instead, he held me by my upper arm as he walked me back toward Ms. Black Widow.

  I tried to break free again, but his grip was too tight.

  “I really don’t understand why you’re even trying.” He looked at me with this smile on his face, his fangs only showing a little. He saw me looking at them and said, “Don’t worry, I am not going to bite you … yet.”

  “What does that mean?” I sneered. “Am I going to be the snack for on the road?”

  Another cute chuckle.

  “Now that’s an idea. I’ll have to think about that one.”

  I wasn’t sure if he was serious or joking with me. He sat me down on one of the benches in the schoolyard.

  Ms. Black Widow had apparently gotten rid of Mr. Ugly Sweater in the meantime as he was nowhere to be seen.

  “He won’t bother us again,” she told Mr. Perfect. Her low female voice had a Russian accent, perhaps Polish, something Eastern European for sure.

  “I hope you ate his sweater too,” I said.

  She turned her head abruptly toward me, making her fake bob oscillate.

  Mr. Perfect laughed before he said to her, “This is a funny one, Sasha! We definitely have to keep her.”

  So Ms. Black Widow’s name is Sasha. What would Mr. Perfect’s name be?

  Chapter 16

  Most of the chasing had ended by now. I was sitting on the bench close to where the toilets were in the Arts building. It was never a popular place due to the smells wafting from the little windows. My back was turned to the larger area of the yard around the corner where a lot of whimpering and sobbing was coming from. I could hear the occasional scream as more and more people were herded into the schoolyard.

  Now was the time the infected would feed on their victims. I remembered how they had caught Sue, how they had dragged her to where the others were gathered, and how the whole group of vampires had fallen on their victims. Memories of the massacre made a lump well up in my throat. I assumed I was going to be added to the gathering pen, ending up just like Sue.

  Sasha stood with her arms folded in front of Mr. Perfect. “So, what do you want to do, Caleb?”

  His name is Caleb. Nice.

  Caleb was looking away from us, not moving or making a sound. He appeared to be in deep thought as he brushed his hand through his hair. He had a gentleman’s haircut; short at the sides and back, and a wavy lock of hair on top that partially covered his forehead; very stylish. The lo
ck of hair fell over his forehead again as his hand moved to the back of his neck.

  Maybe he’s seriously contemplating taking me with him as a snack for on the road.

  I studied my captor. He wore sneakers, jeans, and a long, dark-blue fisherman’s coat. He was handsome. His face was long, but not too long, and complemented by his strong nose and chin. I knew his eyes were the darkest brown, even though I couldn’t see them right now.

  I like the way he had looked at me with those gorgeous eyes.

  Oh my god, did I just think that?!

  This was my captor, the guy who was going to kill me or, possibly, stop me from being the person I was.

  How can I ‘like’ anything about this guy?

  A shiver ran down my spine. I was repulsed by my feelings for him and tried to think of reasons for feeling this way. I had heard of people falling in love with their captors, called the ‘Stockholm syndrome,’ but could this happen within a few minutes? I sincerely doubted that. Otherwise, they could put me in the Guinness World of Records book for the fastest Stockholm syndrome case.

  Whoopdeedoo, lucky me.

  I scrapped the Stockholm scenario, which was very unlikely. But then what? I knew I liked handsome-looking guys, but I wasn’t so shallow I’d fall for the first good-looking guy that batted his eyelids my way. I did have a brain, you know, and it knew that there were more qualifications than just good looks to pass the bar for being a possible partner.

  For heaven’s sake, I’m not even looking for one.

  My continued reasoning didn’t stop me from liking this guy. Why was I reacting so weirdly? More questions flashed through my mind.

  Why am I so attracted to this killer? Is this a secret skill of infected that the media forgot to tell us about? Do they hypnotize people to do their will?

  Then my inner me took a U-turn and told me the opposite of what I should be thinking.

  If you must get ‘turned’ by somebody, then why not by this guy?

  Fortunately, my mind got the better of me.