Infuse

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Infuse Page 6

by Michael Cornett


  As she approached the first desk, she gently swung her black backpack onto the desk, all the possessions she had left in the world. She cursed as she peered into the bag. A flashlight, three bottles of water, a half-rotten apple, and a few bags of nuts. She tried to think about the last time she had eaten. Looking at the food should have made her hungry, but all it did was make her want to gag. She covered her mouth as she coughed, trying to prevent herself from making any loud noises. There could be red-eyes still lurking around the building, hoping to catch her scent or hear her movements.

  Would the red-eyes still be in the building after the sun shown bright? Did they sleep? She had never seen one during the day. Where did they all go? They seemed too primal, too blood-crazed to stop and nap. Surely they weren’t intelligent enough to keep hidden all day. The ones she had seen were reckless, lacking any self-control. Even if they were intelligent enough, why hide? She took a small sip of water from one of her three remaining bottles and zipped the backpack closed. Too many questions to concern herself with right now.

  Zoey pulled open the drawer on the front of the wooden desk as she slipped her arm through the straps to the backpack. She wasn’t really sure what she hoped to find in the office desk, but she would take anything useful, and truth be told she just needed to get herself up and moving. She needed to distract her mind from the darker thoughts looming in her head. Think proactively. “What do I need?” she whispered to herself, “I need to get out of this city,” she said, answering her own question.

  The police had set up several shelters throughout the city, but rumors were they had all fallen to the red-eyes. She only knew for sure that one had fallen. The one she was in. Images of her friends flashed in her mind. Friends like Ian and Erin who had helped her survive this long. City officials initially tried to maintain order, but that proved to be difficult as over half of the emergency responders didn’t show up for their posts. Zoey wasn’t sure whether they had simply abandoned their posts or had disappeared with the others. All she knew was that nothing had gone the way city officials or local news broadcasters said they would. Citizens learned quickly that no government entity, at least no local one, was going to save them. Zoey would have never imagined that things could have gotten so bad, so quickly. One thing was clear, this city now belonged to the red-eyes.

  She wondered if other cities might be faring better. From the last radio and TV reports she had heard, most other parts of the country weren’t faring much better. Maybe the tide had turned somewhere, but the sinking feeling in her stomach said otherwise. She hated that sinking feeling. It wanted to consume her, to drop her into a dark pit of hopelessness. She would not let it, not again.

  Zoey shuffled through the desk drawers, not finding anything useful save for a letter opener. She went to slip it in the back pocket of her jeans, but they were too tight to safely or comfortably keep it there. Instead, she undid the plastic buttons on her charcoal duffel coat and slipped in the letter opener in the inside pocket. There wasn’t much else to the office so she moved to the door and slowly cracked it open. The sunlight from behind her partially illuminated the otherwise dark windowless hall, and she read the numbers on her own door, 304.

  Zoey contemplated searching the rest of the building for supplies, but decided against it. Even though she had never seen a red-eye during the day, she really didn’t want to chance stumbling upon one in the dark hallways of the office building. Instead, she carefully made her way down the concrete stairs to the first floor. A few minutes later she exited the building, peering up and down the cluttered mess of streets through squinted eyes. The rays of light on her face would have normally felt warm and refreshing after spending a night in the near pitch black of the office room, but she was tired and downtrodden.

  A candy wrapper spun around in circles, lifting into the air by some invisible mini-tornado. It had only been days since the world began to spin out of control, and already the city looked like an unclean ghost town from one of those old western movies that Zoey despised.

  The green street sign just down from her read Millburn. Zoey sighed. Apparently in last night’s confusion she wound her way further into the heart of the city. By her best estimate, she was at least fifteen miles to the outskirts of the metropolis. If she were going to get out of the city, the first question she had to decide was which direction to go.

  To the north and east was more mountainous terrain. She wondered if the red-eyes had made it that far from the city. If they had, she would just be putting herself further inland, to colder terrain, further away from the other possibility she was considering. To the south and east there weren’t many large cities, and that would put her closer to the coast line. She fought back the sinking feeling again. The feeling that said it didn’t matter where she went, that it would be this bad or worse anywhere she went.

  She took several deep breaths, slowly inhaling and exhaling as she counted to ten, trying to think positive thoughts. “What would Zachary do?” she asked herself. He would probably move south, away from the cities. The coast was hundreds of miles away, and she knew that traveling during the day would be her only option. To make things worse, the city streets were too badly cluttered with crashed cars and police blockades to travel. Regardless, she set her mind to the south. She would get outside the city and find a car, then continue south. Zoey left the building behind as she walked right onto Millburn Street, heading south.

  Even though she had spent most of her life in the city, it no longer felt like the same place she grew up. She was accustomed to the chatter of people, the humming of car engines, and the honking of taxis. The usual rainbow of people, all colors and shapes and sizes bustling through the city like army of ants was noticeably absent. Loneliness was her sole companion as she walked, save for the occasional bird flying above or rat scampering about. The only consistent noises was that of the whistling wind.

  She rounded an old masonry building standing tall on the corner and saw an older model truck. She wasn’t really sure how old, she had never been good with all that. It was blue and parked awkwardly in the wrong lane. As she passed by, she took a peek inside the driver’s side window and saw a singular pile of clothes dangling over the front of the creamy leather bucket seat. She shook her head at the sight, something she would never get used to, then pulled up on the square metal door handle. The door was thick and heavy enough to protect a bank vault. Zoey checked under the bucket seats and was rewarded with metal framing, wires, and dirt. She leaned past the oversized metal steering wheel and over the tall gear shift to open the glove compartment. It fell open faster than she expected, spilling out the old truck’s manual, a few old atlases, one of which she took, and a pile of wadded up tissues. “Lovely,” she murmured irritatedly.

  Several hours later Zoey’s stomach was rumbling, her legs ached, and despite several sips of water, her mouth felt like someone had been feeding her cotton balls. She had only seen a few people along her way, some attempting to scavenge a convenience store, and another a restaurant. They either hadn’t seen her, or pretended like they hadn’t. She was fine with that. Most of the useful items had likely been taken days ago when the looting was at its peak.

  In the distance Zoey saw one of the city parks. She tried to think of the name of it, but couldn’t quite put her finger on it. It was a lush park, several acres large with shaded gazebos scattered throughout, and even a few colorful flowers that hadn’t been trampled. She walked towards one of the gazebos, struggling to lift one heavy foot after the other. It felt like she was wading through several feet of thick mud rather than air.

  Finally she shed her backpack, collapsing under the shade of one of the gazebos. It was crafted of wood and in the shape of an octagon about ten feet per side. The wood had begun to splinter and warp in a few places, but it did provide a nice bit of shade. The gazebo was surrounded by boxwood shrubs, small oak trees, and other type of greenery nearby that Zoey couldn’t name. Exhausted both mentally and physically, she lay
flat on the surface of the uneven gazebo floor watching her chest rise and fall. She lazily rolled onto her side, opening her bag and grabbing the half-eaten apple and a bottle of water. The apple had browned on the outside and tasted a little bitter. After finishing both, she laid her head back and closed her eyes to rest.

  “You ok ma’am?” It was a deep, grizzled voice. Zoey panicked, grabbing her bag and shuffling away from the voice. “I don't have anything you want,” she said, clutching her bag. She tried to remember which pocket she put the letter opener in. Her hands darted from pocket to pocket, but her eyes never left the large man in front of her. “Didn’t mean to scare you ma’am. I don't mean you any harm, but it's getting late,” the man said as he pointed to the sky. The sun was already beginning to hide behind the high rises to the west. Zoey cursed herself for being so stupid. She should have never let herself fall asleep, to get into this situation.

  The middle-aged man standing before her was imposing, more fat than muscular but huge, with salt and pepper stubble blanketing his rough face. He didn’t look particularly mean, but he wasn’t the type of man you would want to get in a disagreement with.

  She clumsily scrambled to her feet and pulled the straps of her backpack over her arms, looking past the bear of man with his too-new looking clothes, trying determine her next move. The stranger raised a bushy eyebrow at her and said, “Ma’am, I don’t know where you planned on stayin’ for the night, but we got a little place not too far from here. Sure we could find you somewhere better to lay your head tonight than out here with them ghouls.” Zoey had never heard them called ghouls, but she could understand where the name originated.

  She considered the man and his offer. He had woken her up, potentially saving her life. “How far is your place and how many of you are there?” An unsettling grin spread across his rough face, “Oh, about fifteen of us give or take a few. People tend to come and go as they please, so it depends on the night.” He waited a moment, giving her a chance to respond. “Almost forgot my manners, name’s Bread,” he said as he extended a bear claw of a hand. “Zoey,” she replied, meeting his extended hand with her own. It felt like her hand was being squeezed a crane claw as she shook his course hand. “I suppose I could use a place to stay, just for the night though. I’ll head out in the morning at the first sign of daybreak.” Zoey really didn’t like the idea of staying with this over-friendly man, but she liked the idea of staying out in the dark even less. Sure, she could have tried to find a building to hold up in for the night, but with the sun already setting, she didn’t want to take her chances. Bread waved his arm towards the south, “Best be headin’ out then. Will take us another fifteen or twenty minutes to get there. Don’t wanna be out when the sun goes a hidin’.”

  Chapter 7

  They decided to take Alec’ SUV home from La Cocina instead of taking separate cars. It was almost dark now, and there was no chance Alec was about to let Natalie out of his sight again. She protested at first, not wanting to leave her car behind, but finally gave in. He had convinced her they would be safer together, and promised he would come back for her vehicle once things settled down.

  As they left the restaurant, Alec was shocked to see so many people in the streets talking and pointing up at the sky. A group of four people were huddling around a pile of clothing on the sidewalk in front of them. Socks, shoes, pants, the whole nine yards in a pile of disarray, like someone had abruptly decided to go streaking. A teenage-looking boy with curly red hair wearing blue jeans and a bright yellow windbreaker cautiously bent down and lifted a shirt from the pile, as if he half expected to see the owner of the clothes to jump out from under them. Alec could hear the trepidation in their voices as he passed. “Where did they go?” asked one girl. An older teenage boy, black hair draped across his face replied, “Do you think they were like, disintegrated?”

  It pained Alec to see all the suffering around them. Every pile of empty clothes he passed felt like another knife stabbing into his chest. He gripped Natalie's sweaty hand tighter and tried to ignore the heaps of clothes they passed.

  Passing The Ground Bean, one of their favorite boutique coffee shops, Alec noticed the elderly man from earlier. The one with the sweet little old wife, holding hands as they walked their golden retriever. Alec couldn't make out what the elderly man was doing at first, but as they continued down the sidewalk, it became apparent. The elderly man’s face was buried in a white blouse, and he was sobbing uncontrollably. Alec’s heart sank like a rock in a lake, understanding the man’s pain. He wasn’t alone. There was the Cortez family, the lady from the accident who lost her son…his Alexa.

  Alec felt helpless. He felt sadness. He felt anger. He knew the only thing could do now, the one thing he had to do. Keep Natalie safe. Keep his wife safe and find his daughter. Once he got Natalie home, then he could come up with a plan. A plan to survive and a plan to find Alexa.

  Alec turned the key in the ignition and tuned his satellite radio to the news channel. “Again we want to remind everyone, the president will address the nation at seven o'clock eastern time. He will no doubt address what some have come to call ‘the disappearance,’ and our national safety. The White House press secretary is urging everyone to remain calm, stay indoors, and check in on any sick or elderly neighbors and family…”Alec immediately turned the radio down, “Have you checked on Meemie?” Natalie’s face went ghostly white, “It hasn't even crossed my mind. What about your parents?” Alec pulled out his phone, checking for any messages or missed calls. The screen was full of notifications. Five missed calls and thirteen new text messages. “No, I haven't but I’ll call them as soon as you check on Meemie.” His eyes flicked from the road to his cell phone as he checked the notifications. Three were from his brother, Dave, and two were from Meemie, Natalie's only living relative. “Your Meemie called me twice.” “Yeah, she called me three times. I’m calling her now,” as Natalie quickly dialed her grandmother and pressed the phone to her ear. “Dave called a couple times too, but oddly, nothing from my parents,” Alec said as Natalie’s phone began to ring.

  He heard Natalie’s phone ring several times, which wasn't unusual. Meemie was in her 80’s and often didn’t answer the phone until you were in the middle of leaving a voicemail, as was the case now. “Meemie, call me back when you get a chance. I hope you’re…” Meemie had obviously picked up. Natalie was quiet for a moment as Meemie talked. “Thank God you're there. Are you alright?” Alec could easily hear her grandmother, who apparently had the volume turned down too low in her hearing aids. She seemed a little rattled, but her neighbors had already been over to check on her. “Meemie, please stay indoors unless Steve or Mary help you over to their house.” Steve and Mary, a younger couple that lived next door, adored Meemie. They had one young son who loved to visit Meemie, probably because she always brought a huge bowl of candy to the door to greet him, as if every day were Halloween.

  The moment Alec had been dreading came to pass. Meemie asked about Alexa. Natalie did her best to remain in control, but her answer came out a sob. Alec reached over and rubbed her arm, futilely attempting to comfort her. “We’ll find her, Natalie. Whatever it takes, I will find her.” Tears streamed down her face as she tried to compose herself again. She struggled, but was able to finish the short conversation with her grandmother. “Meemie, I know you’ll be fine but please be careful. If we lived closer we would come get you, but I don't know if making an eight hour drive is the best decision right now.” With that, she shot Alec a look. He knew what the look meant. She wanted to go pick up Meemie and bring her back to their place. Alec heard Meemie reassure that she was fine, and that they should just worry about themselves. They talked for another minute before saying their goodbyes. “Ok Meemie, I'll call and check on you tomorrow. If you need anything at all, just call us. We’ll keep on phones nearby. We love you.”

  Turning back to Alec, Natalie asked the inevitable question. “So can we go pick her up tomorrow?” Alec could feel her gaze bur
ning a hole into the side of his face. “Let's give emergency services a day or two to clear the roads, Nat. You see how many accidents and stranded cars there are on the highway right now.” Natalie’s tone turned a wee bit harsh, “Alec, she is old and all alone. I would really feel better about the situation if we went and picked her up.” Alec took a deep breath, “I want to help her as much as you, but you heard her. She is fine right now, and I don’t want to put us in danger to rescue someone who doesn’t immediately need help. I’d be surprised if you persuaded her to leave the house anyways. You know how independent she is. Let's see what the president has to say in a bit, and we’ll go from there. Deal?” “I guess so,” Natalie said in a pouty voice.

  “Will you please try my parents? I’m surprised we haven’t heard from them yet,” Alec asked, changing the subject. “I’m sure they’re fine, Alec. You know how bad they are at keeping their phones nearby. Want me to try your mom or dad first?” Alec’s parents were notorious for going hours or even days before responding to a text message. “Try Dad first, he’s more likely to answer,” Alec replied. As Natalie started dialing his parents, he gave her comment more thought. Them not answering the phone would be one thing, but not calling after something like this? The phone rang and rang until Alec heard his Dad’s voicemail pick up. They didn’t have any better luck with his mom. “I'm sorry Alec…maybe they’re on the phone or checking on the neighbors.” The feeling in his gut said otherwise, but he didn’t see a reason to go down that rabbit hole just yet. “Hopefully so.”

 

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