Before The Cure (Book 2): The Infected

by Gould, Deirdre

  “What are you doing?” Neil gasped, reaching for the branch. Elijah ignored him, banging until the branch snapped and yelling to draw the attention of the Infected who had paused in their wandering and looked over toward them. “Stop!” Neil cried.

  “Look at them, Neil,” said Elijah, tears still leaking from his eyes. “They’re beat to hell. Can barely lift their own chests.”

  Neil stared through the fence. The Infected were stumbling toward them, not fast at all. What he’d assumed was aimless drifting was close to their running speed. Elijah was right, he could see large patches of purple and blackened skin poking out of the remains of their clothes and the stench of rot was almost overwhelming as they closed in on the fence. They wheezed, even the thin growls a few of them managed to muster breaking into deep, rattling coughs.

  “They’re dead, brother. They’re already dead. They’ve got gangrene and are starving and dehydrated. Just being tortured until it finally happens.”

  “We can save them!”

  Elijah shook his head. “Most of them would be gone before we even gathered enough darts. The rest will die without an IV to feed them while the Cure works. Or of secondary infections. They’re gone. Best we can do is put them out of their suffering.” He pulled the flap of his pack open. Neil grabbed his hands to stop him.

  “There’s food, Elijah. There’s food, right there back in town. I know it. We’ll go, we’ll get some, bring it back here and—”

  Elijah twisted his hand free slowly. “Then they die from the food in a day or two, Neil. You can’t just feed people beef jerky and canned peas after they’ve starved for so—”

  “But they’d die full. They’d die peacefully.” He flinched as the first Infected reached the fence, groaning and sticking fingers through the holes, trying to reach them. One man’s teeth clacked together over and over as he tried to bite.

  Elijah pulled him back from the fence so the Infected’s thin claw of a hand couldn’t scratch him. “This is your friend in the hospital all over again, Neil,” he said raising his voice to be heard around the desperate snarls of the Infected as more arrived at the fence, spread out, trying to push through. Even their combined weight was too small. These were not the threat that Neil remembered from the first days at the hospital. “You don’t want to be responsible for their deaths, but if we don’t do something, we’ll be responsible for their misery. These aren’t like the ones at the rest stop. Some of them will have seizures if we feed them. Some of them will have awful stomach cramps and die from dehydration when they get diarrhea. Some will have heart attacks. Those are the lucky ones. Some of them aren’t going to die. They’ll just keep starving. Maybe they make it until we get back, but probably not. It’ll take us at least four days to get back. A month to cobble together enough Cure doses if we even can. I don’t have as much faith in the governor as you. We could steal some— maybe. But not enough. We could find someone stupid enough to barter for them, I’ve got favors to call in, but not that many. There’s at least forty here. And another four days back if it hasn’t started snowing yet. Whatever we give them today, if they survive, it’s only going to last them a few days. They can’t cram enough calories in before we leave to make it.”

  “Then we stay, fatten them up—”

  Elijah grabbed Neil’s shoulders and twisted him forcefully toward the fence. “Look at them!”

  They were skeletal. Hairy versions of what he’d seen the first few days in the camp. Covered in old scabs and new wounds laced with gangrene. Still so enraged and hungry that even in their exhausted state, they pressed hard enough against the fence to leave diamond strips on their naked skin where the metal sank into the flesh. A woman near the end tripped and fell into the man beside her, distracting him from Neil and Elijah, he turned on her and growled, lunging. They both tumbled down the hill in a tangle of limbs. A few others peeled off from the pack to follow them.

  “Don’t,” Neil called, helpless. “Stop!”

  “They don’t understand you. They’re gone. We have to end this for them. We can’t leave them like this. And we can’t spend months here trying to nurse them back. There are secondary infections and wounds on top of starvation and what will happen when the nights get cold? We can’t fix that without sedating them. Where are we going to find what we need? Not here. Not without running into more Infected. Or Immunes who need those things, too. We agreed—” he pulled Neil’s face toward him, away from the escalating fight behind the fence. “We agreed to do what was kindest, didn’t we?”

  “I don’t want to kill anybody,” Neil said abruptly.

  “I know.”

  “They were somebody’s. All those things on the side of the road. Their families cared about them. Tried to help them. Maybe get them out—”

  “Their families are gone. They can’t help them anymore or they wouldn’t be like this. Nobody but us is going to be able to help them now.’

  “There has to be something we can do. There must be another—”

  “There is. Shay gave us what we needed. A few minutes and it’s done.”

  The woman who had fallen shrieked. Neil couldn’t tell if it was with pain or triumph or rage. It all sounded the same. It all felt the same. Remember? Bloody limbs flung up from the grass. He had to find a way to calm them. Just stop the carnage before they slaughtered each other.

  “No, not that. Not that way. We could— you said you scavenged sedatives and made the Cure. We might not be able to go get the doses and come back in time, but we could make more here. There must be a clinic or something—”

  “If you want to put them to sleep, we can do that. It’s going to take a lot longer to find what we need and a way to give it to them, but we can stop and do that. But the Cure— no. What we need is in the City. And even if we had it, I’m not a lab tech. I don’t know how to do that. Maybe five people left in the City know that. I can’t just slap together some Cure darts.”

  Neil grabbed him, shook hard. “You said, you said the best thing we could do is leave them alone until the Cure could find them. We left the people at the rest stop and the one following the dogs. You said you couldn’t kill them, that you wouldn’t be able to bring yourself to do it. That it was for our sake, too.”

  “Yes!” Elijah shouted. “Yes, I said that. And I meant it then. But I thought they’d be loose by now, like the others we saw. Free to— to do what they do, so they could survive longer. And that anyone else that was left would be savvy enough to avoid them. I was wrong, okay? I was wrong. This is— we weren’t supposed to face something like this. We weren’t supposed to wander into a quarantine station that had survivors. Much less, survivors who were trapped. There’s no hope they’ll wander toward the Cure. There’s no hope that the camps reach here in time even if the City knew they were here. All they can do is die. Slow or fast. And we’re the only ones who can decide for them. This is for our sake, too. Can you walk away from this and sleep? Can you leave them in agony knowing what that— that craving felt like? So constant and so consuming? What did you say when we talked about this, Neil? What did you tell me?”

  Neil shook his head.

  “You said if you could have asked someone sane for one thing, just one thing, it’d be to let you die so you didn’t feel that anymore. That’s what you told me. That’s what I felt, too. Just because they can’t tell us doesn’t mean they don’t feel it. They’re in pain. They’ve been hurting a long, long time. Let me go. Let me stop this.”

  “I can’t, I can’t do it—”

  “You did it for the dog, Neil. You knew the right thing to do then. You did it for the fucking dog.”

  “But this is— the dog couldn’t do it himself.”

  “Neither can they.”

  “But this is murder.”

  “Yeah,” agreed Elijah. It shocked Neil. Just a flat acknowledgment. “So is leaving them. Even to go get the Cure. Even if we had the Cure with us. It’s all murder. We’re already murderers, you and me, Neil. And pretty mu
ch everyone left alive. Your wife. Maybe your daughter. The only question anymore is what kind of killers we’re going to be. I can’t leave them to suffer like this. I can’t let this type of pain go on for days and days.”

  Neil shook his head.

  “Step away. Go to the bridge now. I’ll meet you on the other side,” said Elijah, prying slowly loose of Neil’s grip. He walked calmly back to his bike, but Neil didn’t move. Couldn’t. He just stared at the Infected who clawed at the fence. A few tried to pull themselves up the chain link to climb it and get to the road, but they were too weak even for that. A few had collapsed into the grass, panting and staring, glassy-eyed at him even in the chaos around them. Even with the intense rage Neil knew was still burning through their brains. Elijah stood in front of the fence and wiped his face. He took a deep breath, letting his shoulders fall. “You should go now. I’ll be along,” he said without turning. Neil picked up his bike, wheeled a little way, and stopped.

  Elijah had lifted the gun Shay had given him. He had it leveled at a man’s head and was saying something quietly. The Infected only growled and gasped, pressing as hard as he could into the fence. Neil watched Elijah close his eyes and pull the trigger. The man tumbled into the grass. Elijah heaved another breath that raised his shoulders and then released them again. Wiped his face. Took a step to the left and began speaking quietly to the next man who clawed for him. Neil focused on the Infected’s face this time, searching for— something. Some instant of relief or peace or— You know what it was like. You know how painful it was. You know how you couldn’t understand the hurt or how to make it stop except to eat. And even that was not enough. You know. Elijah was right. This is Dante all over again. These people, Elijah, your own conscience, you’re running from all of them. Have a little courage. Stop being a shitty friend. Neil forced himself to turn around. He pulled the other gun from his pack as Elijah stepped sideways again, staring into the face of the next Infected. Don’t really even know how to use the damn thing, he told himself, jumping slightly at the nearby shot. Shay had given him a quick lesson, but he was never going to be good at shooting the thing. It’s okay, he told himself, Just got to get close. Just take a breath. He approached the fence and chose a man whose facial hair had almost entirely covered his face. Just a mass of hair and teeth and eyes. He tried to see underneath it anyway. Tried to fill in the hollow cheeks and the jutting brow with fat and flesh in his imagination. Tried to picture him clothed and sane. Had he been someone like Neil? A cook? A waiter? A bus driver? A doctor? Had he had kids? Was he even old enough to have kids? Neil couldn’t tell. Want and illness and exposure had made them all look ancient.

  “Forgive me, sister,” Elijah said beside him and Neil braced himself for the shot’s reverberating crack. He lifted his gun, held it with both hands so they wouldn’t shake.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, trying not to choke on the words. He pressed his finger down and the man stumbled back and fell before the sound even registered in Neil’s mind.

  24

  The gunshots gradually drew more Infected to the fence. Some were still healthy enough to run, but most were reduced to a slow limp or even a crawl. Neil had believed the patients in the Cure camp had been pitiful, but this was even worse. They’ve been sick six weeks longer, he reminded himself, though he knew that wasn’t necessarily true. He had to keep wiping his eyes and it made the whole thing harder, but he couldn’t stop the tears no matter how much he told himself to. Elijah had stopped long ago. Even eventually stopped muttering apologies to each one. Neil’s hands shook too much when he tried to reload and Elijah had to do it for him. He’d stepped calmly back from the fence and said, “I’ll do that, brother,” holding his hand out for the box of ammo. At last, the final stragglers had made it to the fence, the shots stopped and Neil let his arm sag and looked at the heap of people in front of them. His arm hurt. His heart hurt. He thought Elijah must hate him. He turned to the other man and watched as he reloaded the gun yet again.

  “If they haven’t heard us by now, Elijah, they’re not going to come after us anytime soon.” His voice sounded far away. Muted as if it came during a heavy snowfall instead of a blazing summer day.

  “I’m not worried about being attacked. Not right now. I’m worried about the ones who couldn’t crawl up here. We’re going to have to go over the fence. Find whoever’s left.”

  That’s a shitty idea, Neil wanted to blurt out. A shitty dangerous idea. But he knew Elijah was right. Just because he couldn’t see them starving and suffering didn’t mean there weren’t more and worse farther in. In the tents or down the hill or anywhere in the fenced enclosure. And he wasn’t going to make the rift between him and Elijah worse if he could help it. He’d been prepared to leave the camp alone, come out and search for Randi as long as he had to, but now that Elijah was with him, the thought of him turning around or just— leaving, made a frigid fear creep over him. “I’ll go,” was all he said aloud.

  Elijah stopped what he was doing, glanced at Neil and then back down to the ammo box. “Might be best if you let me go, instead.”

  “I can do this.”

  “But you don’t want to.”

  “Neither do you.”

  “We’ll both go.”

  “No,” said Neil. “Someone’s got to watch the bikes. You said yourself how hard it was to get this gear. Just because the Infected aren’t still arriving doesn’t mean nobody else will.”

  Elijah shrugged. “What am I going to do about it? I’m not going to shoot somebody just for stuff. Not even this stuff.”

  “Anyone watching us isn’t going to know that. All they’re going to see is you next to a pile of corpses. And I doubt we’re the only people unwilling to attack people for the sake of stuff. Waiting until someone’s distracted though, that’s a different story.”

  “You’re not going to be able to do it, Neil. I can’t let you leave them in there to—”

  “I will. I did. I’m committed now. Just like you. Is it going to keep me up at night? Yeah. Am I going to be okay after this? I don’t know. Probably not. But neither are you. I told you we’d have each other’s backs if you came with me. I meant it. We decided on an action and I’ll— I’ll follow through.”

  “There may not be enough bullets,” said Elijah, turning the ammo box over to show that it was empty. “I have no way of knowing how many are left.”

  Neil bent over his pack, unzipping a side pocket. He pulled out the hatchet. “I’ll take care of it,” he insisted. He handed it to Elijah. “Hand it up to me when I get across.”

  “We should find an opening. If someone in there still has the strength to run, you might not be able to climb fast enough.”

  “If there was an opening, there’d be no one left. Look at the other side of the road. No one left over there. Nobody’s going to have the strength to run. We aren’t smart enough to lie in wait, remember? It’s just instinct. And sound draws them almost without fail. Trust me, that’s exactly how Shay and I survived the hospital.” He hauled himself up the chain link. It was easier than he’d expected. Missing a hundred pounds, he reminded himself, wouldn’t take a weight lifter to get what’s left of me up a seven-foot fence. Still, it felt good to be able to do it himself, without Elijah having to push him up. Made it simpler, too. He didn’t have to argue about it or think about it anymore, now that he’d decided to do it. He reached back for the hatchet and then dropped it over the top. It fell onto the naked back of one of the corpses at the foot of the fence. Neil was irrationally relieved that it had landed on the flat side. He reached back again for the gun and climbed the rest of the way up clumsily. When he reached the top he stopped to stare down at the bodies. He was going to end up stepping on someone. He knew it. He’d tried to pick a spot with fewer corpses, but they’d ranged up and down the fence and he’d been unable to find a completely open space.

  You’ve stepped on worse, Neil, he reminded himself. The hospital’s pool had been a minefield of rotting viscera an
d then bones and teeth. His feet had been bare for at least part of that. He could barely remember when he lost his shoes.

  “Okay, Neil? Need to come back?” called Elijah.

  Neil shook his head. “No. Just trying to figure out the best way down,” he said and began climbing. He tried to place his first foot between an arm and a torso and winced as his heel caught the edge of the torso and slid. “Sorry,” he muttered, not really knowing who would hear or care. Can’t hurt them anymore. Can’t feel it. There was nowhere clear to put his second foot. Not unless he wanted to risk stretching too far and toppling with a loaded gun in his hand. He took a breath and firmly planted his other foot on someone’s back. He didn’t linger, a half-panicked little hop and he stumbled down the slope of tangled limbs. His shoes left dusty tracks on their skin, there the print half interrupted by the bony railroad ties of a spine and the knob of a knee or elbow. He tried not to look as he hunted for the hatchet but saw anyway. He was unreasonably grateful that nothing moved, that there were no sounds except for Elijah asking him if he was alright and the breeze making a little chiming rattle as a looser section of fence tapped against a support pole.

  “Don’t leave anyone,” Elijah reminded him.

  “I won’t. I’ll be back in a few minutes.” He turned toward the camp, jamming the hatchet handle under his belt as he did. It was a relief to walk away from the mound of bodies at the foot of the fence both because he could push what they’d done to the back of his mind for a few seconds and because the reek of their unwashed skin and festering wounds was almost overpowering even in the open air. He headed down the gradual slope toward the dilapidated huts below. The long grass hid most of the carnage in a rustling, blond fringe. Neil tripped over something and fell, the gun tumbling away and the hatchet pressing hard and cold into his side. He twisted around to see what he’d tripped over and found his foot deep in the hollow of a rib cage.