INFECtIOUS

by Elizabeth Forkey

  Harmony and I are both quiet, lost in our own thoughts. All the talk about Matt brings that hard day when he left back to me with clarity. I keep thinking the memories will fade but they only get stronger.

  I see it all again—Aunty and I left Ellen and Jose so they could cry and console each other in peace. We walked home through the falling snow in tear filled silence, me still holding Matt's coat. I'm sure Aunty was thinking of others—praying for Thomas' safety, praying for Matt's soul, praying for comfort for Jose and Ellen. I was lost in my own self-centered thoughts. I wanted Matt to come back. I at least wanted a chance to apologize. Let's be honest, I wanted him to stay with us, find Life, and ideally marry me next week.

  Halfway back to the Inn, I realized that no one had been up in his room yet. I needed to go up there alone. Maybe he could have liked me? There was all that winking. Oh, I missed the winking. Maybe he had left something behind? I was suddenly desperate to get in there. I quickened my pace without realizing it, filled with the desperate hope of finding something. Aunty assumed I was afraid to be outside and that I was hurrying home to safety. I let her think that, it had been true just the day before.

  When we got back to the Inn, I had my speech ready. I told her I was ashamed of my bad attitudes—which of course I was—and that I was so thankful for her and her patience—once again totally true—and that to thank her I wanted to clean the dirty guest rooms by myself. So that she could have a break. This part was less truthful. But she bought it and, really, she did seem exhausted.

  I grabbed some cleaning supplies and practically flew up the stairs. Matt had been in guest room number one; our smallest, manliest room at the top of the stairs. Room One’s golden walls make it feel sunny and inviting on the cloudiest days. Someone painted an African mural on one of the walls years ago—a serene scene of a boat on a river with silhouettes of trees and a sunset on the horizon.

  The other unique thing in the room is the bathroom. It is hidden behind a bookcase door. I glanced around the room and decided to clean the bathroom first. Pulling open the bookcase door, I found that the bathroom looked completely untouched. At first glance, it looked as though he hadn't showered or used any of the towels—they were all folded just the way Aunty and I leave them. Only a closer inspection proved that he had showered. Then he had wiped down the shower and refolded and rehung the towels perfectly. So he was not only a funny and endearing zombie, he was also neat as a pin. I opened the shampoo bottle in the shower and breathed in the coconut smell. The smell brought new lonely tears to my eyes.

  After wiping down the bathroom, I began a careful inspection of the bedroom. I was meticulous in my search. I stripped the sheets from the bed—that he had remade perfectly—and shook them to be sure there wasn't anything tucked in them. I almost wondered if he had ever been there at all. There was no trace of him. At that point, I might have even liked it if the sheets had smelled like he did the first night, that cat litter odor. I had been so disgusted that first night at the thought of cleaning up after him and now here I was burying my face in his pillow hoping for some evidence that he had been there at all.

  I dusted the furniture and knickknacks, my disappointment growing with each swoosh of the dust cloth. There was nothing there. It was like a ghost had stayed in that room. There wasn't so much as a stray hair left behind. With the room thoroughly clean, even under the bed, my depression overwhelmed me.

  He was gone and I hadn't been anything more than an irritation to him. I looked the room over one last time to be sure it was ready for the next guest who came our way. On my way out, I noticed some books sticking out a little on the bookshelf door. I walked back in to push them back into place. One of the books was Little Women. I pulled it out, thinking maybe I'd read it again. A piece of paper tucked in between the pages fell to the floor. I had already given up any hope of finding anything from Matt, and I almost crumpled it up to throw it away.

  Then I noticed what it was.

  It was a simple sketch done in pen. Not much more than a doodle, but someone with talent had drawn it. It was of a girl with long curly hair. It was just her head and neck and all around her were beautifully sketched vines, ivy vines. Around the sketched girl’s neck was a small cross. It was me! The ivy, the cross, I knew it was me. He doodled me. He thought about me. My heart was pounding, my stomach felt sick; my eyes filled with tears of happiness, sadness, and relief that maybe he cared—

  "Are you ok, Ivy?" Harmony asks with concern etched into her face.

  I snap out of my memories and brush away the tears that had carried over from daydream to real life. Harmony, assuming my emotions are still from fear, leans over to give me her second hug of the day. I accept the hug and the comfort and try to quit sniffling. I need to pull myself together. I can't tell her about him. She wouldn't get it, and it's pointless. He's gone. If I talk about my feelings, it will take longer to get over them. I need to move on to the bigger, more important issue at hand.

  "I think priority number one is finding this hole in the fence and reporting it," I say with more gumption than I feel.

  To be honest, the last thing I feel like doing is walking the perimeter, which may or may not have a dangerous hole somewhere, while enduring the catcalling that always ensues from the zombies on the other side.

  "I'll come with you,” Harmony offers bravely. “I don't have to be home for a couple hours. Told mom I'd be searching for a new book in the U.R. library, but that can wait."

  Thank God she's coming with me. I'd be too scared to do it alone.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Afternoon of the Living Dead

  After Harmony and I bundle up and go through the process of locking up the Inn, we walk down the main street of Toccoa, silent and overwhelmed. It's still cold, but not as frigid as Wednesday was. The snow fall became a raging storm the night that Thomas and Matt left us, leaving our grieving little group worried sick. My heart stormed all night in chorus with the moaning wind. The next morning, the storm had passed leaving several inches of fresh white snow on the ground. My insides were left empty and dark, no blanket of peaceful white in exchange for my mourning.

  I've only seen snow a few times in my life. If I hadn't been in the depths of depression that day, I'm sure I would've enjoyed it. I heard the other kids in town went sled riding down the big hill behind the old Elementary school. None of them had sleds, but that didn't stop them. They made due with garbage can lids and flattened cardboard boxes. Aunty told me that Tim was there, too, forsaking his responsible-old-man behavior to play with the rest of the kids.

  That snowy night is just a pleasant memory for the rest of the town; but I find myself still lost in the stormy haze. The snow is mostly melted now and the sky is a vibrant blue. There are still little patches of snow left here and there in the shade of buildings and bushes; but, for the most part, the ground is back to its normal brown muddy winter ugliness.

  The agoraphobic feeling of being outside of the Inn; and, therefore, unsafe returns. I feel like maybe Harmony and I should've told someone where we’re going. We don't normally have to ask permission; but, in light of recent events, I feel a little nervous that no one knows what we're doing.

  Harmony and I decide to start at the Western gate just down the street from the Inn. After all, the Inn is where Matt was first seen. As we approach the security gate, I'm happy to see that Anthony is one of the guards on watch today. He was kind to Matt, ergo I like him. That's how my logic is working these days.

  "Hey!" I call as we walk over to him.

  "Hey pretty girls," he says in his deep southern drawl.

  Harmony blushes and stares at her feet. I'd better do the talking.

  "Um, we are going to walk around the fence and check it for holes," I say with made-up nonchalant confidence in my voice.

  "Ohhhh," he says, real slow and drawn out, his lips scrunched in a pucker as he weighs out whether or not this is a good idea. "You sure dat's smart? I don'
t dink dat's a job for two young pretty girls. You know, da Elders already had a group of guards go around two days ago and nobody found nuttin."

  "Yeah, I know," I lie. "So, then it's perfectly safe for us to go around and get some exercise right? It'll just make me feel better to see it myself."

  I hold my breath as he considers my plan, hopeful that there will be no reason to argue. We could always start somewhere else on the fence and avoid the guards and gates. I hate to be sneaky, but I really need to do this. I'm surprised to hear that the Elders took me seriously. That's pretty cool. It's comforting to know that security has already checked around. But they didn't know where to look, and I have a suspicion about where the breach might be. I think I'd be more likely to spot something out of the ordinary. Anyway, Anthony doesn't really have the authority to deny me my walk—fingers crossed.

  I'm right because Anthony’s face says "no," but he nods his head slowly in the affirmative, "Please be careful Miss Ivy. I don't tink it could hurt ta walk around, but stay aways back from da fence. We seen some real ugly groups near da fence lately. Less and less supplies in town. Day're short on da drugs and meaner dan ever. Everybody getting sicker. I don't tink anyone is helping us on da outside anymore. We on our own now," he says quietly while staring into my eyes with a warning. "I know dat all sounds pretty scary, but I mean for it. You girls gotta be careful now. Can't afford ta be naive anymoe, ya understand?"

  Harmony looks terrified.

  "Yes sir," she and I answer in almost perfect unison.

  I add, "Will you radio to the other gates that we'll be coming through. Then we'll know people are watching for us and expecting us. That would be even safer, right?"

  "Dat's a good idea ma'am. How 'bout you come all da way round ta me so I know when you're back."

  "Okay," we wave and head down the fence in the direction of the North Gate.

  Harmony and I walk and talk and periodically check the fence for any weaknesses. The guards were probably very thorough—I'm sure we won't spot something they didn't—but it doesn't hurt to double check. We look for any holes in the ground near the fence and also watch for any trees that stick out over. Sometimes we have to go around a building instead of walking along the fence. There are a couple of buildings that go right up against the fence on our side, with a mere inch or two of space between.

  We've been walking for about 20 minutes when we come within view of the North Gate. We wave at the guards stationed there, but don't stop to talk. They wave back, and it's nice to know that they were watching for us. They'll radio ahead to the South Gate now, and someone else will be waiting to wave at us.

  We spend a lot of time around the Northeastern side, near Jose and Ellen's house. That's where Matt and Thomas disappeared, and I feel certain that Matt's way in is somewhere around here. We are disobeying Anthony's warning, walking right up against the fence so we can pull on it regularly. About a half mile down the fence from the North Gate, we pass a large group of zombies who aren't far from the fence on the other side. This isn't out of the ordinary. With minimal apprehension, we walk past quietly; hoping to get by without being noticed or harassed.

  I glance through the chain links and unexpectedly lock eyes with one of them. The no-big-deal moment explodes into a living nightmare. The infected man's eyes look crazed as he holds my terrified gaze. He shrieks a loud cry of rage, and my stomach twists violently inside me.

  The entire group of zombies sparks to life and runs at the fence en mass. Some of them are limping badly, but the lame ones seem to drag themselves to the fence almost as fast as the ones with healthier limbs. They are alive with fury. Mutilated faces scream and rail against the fence, and I can see the chain links strain against their force. Harmony and I stumble backwards away from the buckling fence, stunned by their sudden violent fervor.

  They form a besetting, aggressive wall—grabbing the fence and shaking it while howling at us. Is it the drug shortage that's making them crazy? Though the noise is cacophonous, I can still hear how slurred and nonsensical their speech is. Some of them curse and shout sloppy obscenities at us like victims of Tourette's Syndrome.

  Harmony pulls at my arm, begging me to run; but I can't seem to unlock my legs. Though I'm scared out of my mind, I still find myself searching the crowd for Matt's face. The zombies are horrifying to look at. Many of them wear the full body suits, but a lot of them don't. In the chaos of moving limbs, I see bare areas of skin covered in sores and oozing blood. I don't know which is scarier, the ones with masks or the gruesome raw faces without masks.

  Screaming masked faces is the stuff of nightmares, but the unmasked are grotesque. I see skeletal holes where there should be noses. Bloody lumps of tissue replace their ears and make them look more alien than human. One man’s lips have shriveled up to reveal the toothy snarl of a predator. They look dead. Like, if we had arrived just moments earlier, we could've watched them climb out of their graves. How can anyone act shocked or appalled at the name that best describes them?

  How can Rev. Depold even speak of winning these awful animals? If they could reach me, they would kill me—I have no doubt. The strained lace of metal wire is supposed to continue to protect us from them?

  Harmony finally succeeds in pulling my attention to her terrified face and we run past them as fast as we can. Hiding behind the closest building, out of their sight, we wait for the screaming to stop. It takes me a while to convince Harmony that we're safe and that we should keep going. She might not be girly, but that doesn't mean she's tough either. She survives by living in her own little world of books and imagination. This is too much for her to handle.

  After begging Harmony back onto the trail, we carefully resume our mission. We don't go back to check the section of fence where the group of zombies rushed us. If there was a weakness in that section of the fence, they'd surely have come through it.

  We search the bushes, yards, and houses near where Thomas and Matt must have been when they suddenly disappeared. Just around the bend from Jose and Ellen's house, I find some cinnamon gum wrappers trapped in the melting remains of muddy brown snow under a large clump of bushes. I know Thomas loves cinnamon gum, but really, he could've dropped the wrappers there forever ago. They could've been blown there by the wind. Maybe he shared his gum with the little neighbor girl, Lois, and she dropped the wrappers. It's nothing like a solid clue. We give up on that area and keep going down the fence.

  The fence runs along the railroad tracks for awhile; and, though we check every possible place there could be a weakness, we find nothing. The occasional storm drains running under the tracks between our side and theirs have all been filled in with cement and show no sign of weakness. This search is turning out to be fruitless. I should be relieved, but instead I am fighting back disappointment; and, strangely, loneliness.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  5 Foot 2 Inches. Brown Curly Hair. Answers to the name Troublemaker.

  When the third and last gate comes into view, I see a lot of commotion. There are more guards than normal standing around. Harmony and I exchange curious glances as to what the new trouble could be. When the guards spot us, two of them come running to meet us. I only recognize one of them—the younger guy, Terry, just recently graduated out of our age group and joined the security team. Terry and I haven't talked since he graduated, but he's a good guy and a friend. I don't recognize the older guard at all, though he seems somehow familiar. The looks on their faces makes anxiety flare up like fire in my chest. Something is very wrong.

  "What happened?" asks the man whose name I don't know. I can't fathom why, but it seems like he's really mad—at me.

  "Huh?" I answer with confusion. "What happened here?" I ask in return, with a scowl to match his.

  "Where have you been?" No-Name demands.

  "What do you mean?" I ask somewhat dumbly. "We were just out walking?" I say it like it's a question instead of an answer.

  Harmony is looking terrified and embar
rassed next to me and I'm really hoping she'll pull it together and be a united force with me here.

  "What is going on?" I demand.

  No-Name stares me down and spits his words at me, "You're telling me nothing happened? You just took your good old time getting here with no thought to the fact that we've all been radioing around all afternoon watching for you?"

  Oh. This is about me——Again. Crap!

  We took a long time between gates. I guess we were looking around for almost an hour. I didn't realize they were this preoccupied with my schedule. I didn't give anyone a specific time that I'd be back, and I had no idea anyone was "watching out for us" that seriously.

  "Um, I'm sorry?" I say with an irritated lift in my voice.

  Which probably sounds disrespectful and isn't going to help my situation.

  "I didn't mean to be a pain. It wasn't my idea to get everyone all upset and watching for us. We haven't ever needed permission to walk around our own community in broad daylight before, you know?" I'm getting louder and more assertive. Aunty always asks me when I'll learn that humility is always best. Probably not before the fast-approaching end of time.

  "We aren't here to babysit troublemakers," says No-Name with pompous disgust.

  I lose what cool I was holding on to and sputter incredulously, "Troublemakers! We were doing a community service! There is a hole out there, a way in through the fence that YOU missed!"

  "You found a breach?" Terry, joining the conversation, asks skeptically.

  "Well, no, I haven't found it yet—but it is there! You know Matt—the zombie?—left days ago with Thomas, and he didn't go out any of our gates. How do you explain that! Why isn't everyone upset about this? Doesn't anyone else see the obvious here?"

  "Go home," No-Name commands with teeth clenched in quiet frustration.

  "We aren't done yet!" I argue. "We still have to finish the loop back to the West Gate. I told Anthony we'd finish there."

  "You are done, and Terry is escorting you each home. If you give me anymore problems or take anymore of my men's time with your games, I'll speak with the Elders about it. We are here to keep all the families in this community safe, and it's a tough and time-consuming job. We don't have time to keep daredevils from getting themselves snatched by an outsider. Do we understand each other?"