Infuse

by Michael Cornett

  “Knock. Knock, knock knock. Knock, Knock.” Bread knocked in a rhythmic pattern, some sort of code to let them in. The door opened, revealing a short wiry man, no more than thirty, with greasy auburn hair. “Welcome back, Bread. Who’s the honored guest?” “Evenin’ Carl, This here is Zoey. Found her over at Warren Garden Park and told her she was welcome here tonight.” Bread winked at Zoey, leaving out the part about finding her asleep in the middle of the park. Zoey nodded her thanks. “Well welcome Zoey! Aren’t you just the hot cup of coffee this place needed,” the wiry man said as he smiled from ear to ear. Zoey squirmed again, wanting to crawl right out of her skin. She caught Bread cut the man a warning look. “Oh, I’m just messing around, Bread. Just meant to pay the pretty girl a compliment.” Zoey didn’t want the confrontation to escalate. “It’s fine,” she lied. Bread glared at Carl one more time for good measure and then turned back to Zoey, “Come on Zoey, let’s get you some grub, and then I’ll show you ‘round the place.”

  As they walked down the school halls she was reminded of Ms. Galloway, her third grade teacher. Ms. Galloway had been one of the few teachers, or adults in general, to leave a lasting impression on Zoey. She was an alright enough teacher, but it was her kindness and words of encouragement that truly stuck with Zoey. She had told Zoey she was special, that she was loved by her creator even when she didn’t feel loved by anyone else. She encouraged Zoey to follow her dreams no matter how impossible they seemed. What a different life that was. It seemed everyone’s dreams had come to an abrupt halt these days, crushed by the disappearance and pissed on by the red-eyes, just for good measure.

  They passed by a classroom of four men sitting around desks that were much too small. Laughter erupted as one man, a brawny Hispanic man, hit an equally stout man with dark skin on the shoulder. Each of the four men were holding playing cards, probably playing poker, or whatever games dingy middle-aged men played when they were bored during the apocalypse.

  Most of the other classrooms had been cleared of the old desks, replaced by mattresses, blankets, and an assortment of items ranging from canned foods to clothing, candles, and even a few battery operated heaters. Others rooms still appeared ready for class to begin. Zoey noticed one thing noticeably absent from the school, women and children. “Are there other girls staying here?” she hesitantly asked Bread. He slowed his walk, and looked deep in thought, as if he truly had to think about his answer. “No youngins’ but Sheila and Tammy stay across the way,” he said, pointing a large finger through the courtyard area to another hall of rooms. “I’m sure they’ll be ‘round in the morning if yer still here.” Knowing that she wasn’t the only girl trapped in a building with a crew of unfamiliar men made her feel a little better about the situation.

  “Here ya are,” Bread said as he showed Zoey the classroom. All the desks had been pushed to one side of the room, and there was a sole blanket lying on the floor. “Know it ain’t much ,but it oughtta be better than sleepin’ in the park with the ghouls. I’ll try to round up another blanket for ya and bring back some food. Got any preference on yer canned meats?” She looked around the room, barely paying attention to Bread. “No, anything should be fine. Thanks.”

  Zoey stood in the center of the room and let out a deep breath. It smelled like stale cafeteria food but would do for the night. The blanket she was supposed to sleep on didn’t have much padding and wasn’t much softer than the floor itself. It felt more like the type of blanket movers used for protecting furniture than bedding. There was still writing on the dry erase board, a combination of numbers and shapes, an elementary math class, it seemed. A row of double-paned windows lined the top of one wall. Outside the window was the courtyard or common area, probably used for recess.

  Zoey unstrapped her backpack, took a sip of water, and thought about her plans for the next day. She figured if she kept a good pace, maybe she could be south of the city by the end of the day. If she were lucky, maybe she would find a bicycle or even a motorcycle, not that she knew how to ride one. Either way, she wasn’t expecting any luck. About as down as down can be, she placed her hands on her head and shook from side to side as she stared back down at the blanket.

  “You aight?” Zoey quickly lifted her head and dropped her hands by her side. Bread was standing in the door, holding a can of food in one of his massive hands and a blanket in the other. “Yeah, it’s just a headache,” she lied. Bread held out the food to her. “Got ya a can of tuna and a few crackers. They’re a little stale but’ll eat just fine.” She almost didn’t understand his words. Zoey had been around plenty of country folks in her life, but Bread may have them all beat. “That’s fine. Thank you,” she said as she took the food. “Oh, got ya another blanket, too. Can I get ya anything else?” “I’m alright for now,” she said as she began to nibble on a stale cracker.

  Bread turned to leave, filling up nearly the entire doorway as he did so. “Bread,” she said. He slowly turned back to her, looking over his shoulder. “If I don’t see you before I go, thank you.” His cheeks seemed to turn red at this. “Ain’t nothing. You be safe when you leave, ya hear. Don’t go falling asleep outside like ya done.” She almost laughed. She wasn’t sure why it was funny, maybe it was just his thick accent and toothless grin. “I won’t. Goodnight.” “Night,” he replied and vanished down the darkening hallway.

  Although she had never been a fan of canned tuna, tonight the meal tasted like filet mignon from at a fancy steakhouse. Bread had been right about the crackers though. There was no crunch to them at all.

  When she was finished with her meal she pulled her toothbrush out of her bag, took a sip of water, and brushed her teeth. It was an odd thing, carrying a toothbrush, but she didn’t really feel like adding rotting teeth to the never-ending list of bad things that happened to her. She spit into the empty tuna can, creating an awful funk of a smell, and placed the can on one of the desks in the corner.

  “Ouch,” Zoey yelped, stubbing her toe against one of the metal desk legs. The noise the desk leg made dragging against the tile floor was almost as bad as the pain in her big toe. Irritated, Zoey stumbled back to the floor where the moving blanket lay. She folded the uncomfortable blanket several times over until it provided maximum cushion. Using her backpack as a pillow, she laid down on the pallet and covered herself with the softer blanket Bread had given her.

  She stared up at the ceiling, listening for the shrieks of the abominations, but only heard loud voices laughing and cursing down the hallway. She shoved one of her ears deep into the backpack and covered the other with one of her arms, forcing herself to close her eyes. At first sign of daylight she would be on the road, back on track to head south.

  Sleep was something that had always been difficult for Zoey, even before the disappearance, before the red-eyes. Images from her past tormented her when she closed her eyes to sleep. Her father home from the bar again, drunk and on a rampage. Zachary, her twin brother hiding her in the closet, stuffing pillows under the blankets to make it look like she slept. She would pray that he wouldn’t stumble his way back to their rooms. Occasionally he would, and Zachary always took the brunt of their father’s anger. Now other images tormented her. Zachary’s empty clothes, Erin covered in blood, and Sam screaming as he bravely ran at the red-eyes. That was the last thought she thought before drifting asleep.

  Zoey’s eyes popped open, her breath muffled by a hand held tightly against her face. Her first thought was of Zachary, covering her mouth as he woke her. But she wasn’t at her house, and Zachary was gone. She grasped the hand, pulling it away from her mouth but it didn’t move.

  “Shhhh. I’m just here to make sure my little Hershey’s kiss is tucked in all nice and comfy,” the voice said in an evil whisper. Zoey made out the wiry snake of a man, Carl. She dug her nails into his grimy hands, causing him to momentarily free his grip. She scrambled back several feet. “Oww you little…” Zoey rolled onto her shoulder blades then rolled back forward, using the momentum of to kick Carl under
the chin as hard as she could. The kick caught him off guard, knocking him off his feet and sprawling onto the ground. In a spinning motion Zoey grabbed the strap of her backpack and swung it at him, connecting with his head. This wasn’t the first time a man had tried something like that on her.

  Before his head struck the tile floor she was on her feet and running out the door. She looked over her shoulder and saw him getting to his feet, but she had a good lead on him now. Something struck the side of her head. The impact caused her knees to buckle and she collapsed onto the floor, stars filling the dark room. She grunted as she hit the floor, confused and dazed. “What a joke Carl. You would have let the chica get away. I came for a show, not too see you get beat down by a woman,” a heavily accented voice said. Zoey struggled to see her second attacker clearly. A big man, the large Hispanic man who was playing cards earlier in the night, Zoey realized. She cursed under her breath, desperately trying to shake the stars from her vision, searching the dark room for another exit or something, anything to defend herself with. There was nothing, no hope of getting out of this room and no chance to fend off both men.

  “You’re going to pay for that,” Carl said as he walked towards her. “Go to hell you worthless piece of trash,” she spit at him, some of the thick saliva landing on his face. The back of his bony hand struck her hard. She tasted blood in her mouth. Carl cackled menacingly, “Call me whatever you want, but it won’t change what’s about to happen. I do think you’ll end up changing your mind, though. Maybe even enjoy it.”

  Panicked and still dazed, Zoey did the only thing she could do, she yelled for help, “Bread! Help! Help!” A closed fist struck her left cheek and pain writhed through her face. The impact left her sobbing on all fours, hopeless until she felt something sharp poke her ribs, the letter opener. She reached in her jacket pocket and felt around until she grasped the thin metal. Her heart raced as she felt a sliver of hope. Her arms wobbled and gave way as Carl struck her again. Blood filled her aching mouth as she gripped the letter opener tightly, waiting on him to come in for another blow.

  “You’re pretty tough, beating up a girl and all,” Zoey taunted, spitting a mouthful of blood onto the floor. Carl sneered at her with his beady eyes. “Haven’t had enough eh? Don’t worry, we have a loooong night ahead.” He stepped forward again to strike her, but Zoey lunged upwards, letter opener in hand. His eyes widened as he saw the sharp object, and he jerked to the side. The letter opener missed his throat, Zoey’s intended target, instead sinking deep into his shoulder. Carl wailed, faltering backwards as Zoey yanked the makeshift weapon free and spun towards the large Hispanic man. He was too fast, already having moved from the doorway. A concussive blow landed Zoey back on the floor. Her body felt heavy and weak. Before she was able to scramble Carl climbed on top of her. Her arms were pinned by his knees and he struck her again, this time even harder. She let out a whimper as blood flew out of her mouth.

  She began to cry out, but Carl stuffed some sort of cloth material into her mouth. “Noooo. No.…Za..ch…ary,” Zoey whimpered into the cloth. She wasn’t sure why she cried for her brother. Perhaps he had always been there to save her. Perhaps she was ready to be with him again. To die.

  “Like I said you can call me whatever you want, just hold still so I don’t have to mess up that pretty face anymore,” Carl whispered into her ear. Zoey heard a laugh from the doorway and it made her want to puke. Why should men like this survive when good men, like Sam, die? Why were sweet souls like her brother taken from this earth, and wretched men left to reign?

  Zoey tried to crawl into a dark room in her mind, one she had been so familiar with as a child, as Carl ripped her shirt. A cracking shook her from the darkness, drawing her back. It was like the sound of a tornado snapping a tall pine in half. She looked out of her swollen, tear-filled eyes and saw the large Hispanic man crash onto the tile floor, a pool of blood quickly forming around his head. Carl turned towards the commotion, and Zoey heard another loud crack. Carl’s head snapped around with a spray of teeth and blood showering the floor. The broken end of a baseball bat flew past Carl’s limp body as it slumped off her. She saw the lumbering form of Bread, chest heaving, holding half of a bloodied baseball bat.

  “You aight, Zo?” Never had a redneck’s voice sounded so beautiful in her life. Zoey tried to nod her head, but it ached, along with her neck. Bread held out his hand to help her off the ground, but Zoey didn’t move. She sat in pain, in shock. “Ain’t gonna hurt you Zoey. Been thinkin’ some of these boys weren’t good for nothin. Never thought they’d take things this far though. Only a coward go and hit a woman.” At that he turned and spit on Carl’s crushed head. “That was my favorite bat,” Bread said in a disgusted voice as he glared at Carl’s corpse. Zoey still lay there, watching him with wide eyes. “Come on, let’s take a look at yer head. Got a flashlight back in my room.” This time Zoey timidly accepted his bear paw as he lifted her to her wobbly feet, and they walked back to his room.

  After Bread examined her face, and let her examine the rest of her body alone in the classroom storage closet, he insisted on her staying in his room until dawn broke. He insisted she try and get some shut-eye on his mattress, vowing to stay up and keep watch. Zoey was still uneasy with the situation, but felt better about staying the night in Bread’s room than alone, not that she planned on getting any sleep. Her face felt like a ripe tomato dropped on the grocery aisle floor and her nerves were shot. Nevertheless, she laid down and stared out the open door of the classroom.

  A few hours later Zoey lay awake, watching the door as the first rays of morning sun snuck in the windows. Zoey shuffled her feet under the blanket and sat up. “Weren’t sure if you were sleepin’ or not.” “Didn’t really think I would be able to,” Zoey replied. “Can’t say I could blame ya after a night like that. Suppose you’ll be headin’ out?” She nodded as she grabbed her backpack. “I could go with ya for a ways, if you’d like,” Bread offered. “Make sure ya get on yer way alright?” Zoey didn’t hesitate in her refusal of his offer. “No, I’ll be fine,” she said with as much confidence as she could. “Come on. Least I could do for getting’ ya into this mess.” Zoey wasn’t sure why she had refused his help so quickly before, but she paused with his insistence. He had saved her…again, and it wouldn’t hurt having a man his size around a little longer. “I guess if you want to join me for a bit, that will be fine,” she finally found herself saying.

  Before they left Bread grabbed a few things from the storage-closet where Zoey had examined herself. As they walked out of the room he opened the foil package of a pop-tart and handed Zoey one of the sugary pastries. “Thanks.” “Ain’t biscuits ‘n gravy but it’ll eat,” Bread said with his big toothless smile. Zoey hadn’t really known what to make of that smile yesterday. His attire, his smile, it all seemed…off. But today was different. It seemed, genuine. He still made her little uneasy, but almost everyone made her uneasy. Bread had one more surprise for her as they walked. He held out a long green and brown knife folded in on itself. “Good buck knife right there. Skinned a many critter with it. Might be a good idea for ya to keep it handy, just in case.” Zoey slipped the folded knife in her jacket pocket as they turned and left the classroom. As she passed the room where the four men had played cards the night before, including the large Hispanic man that now lay dead down the hall, she turned and asked Bread in a muffled voice, “What are you going to do about the bodies?” Bread shrugged his huge shoulders. “Nuthin. I ain’t really planned on comin’ back here after last night. Don’t care to share a roof with cowards like them.”

  The odd couple walked along the blacktop of Harrison Ave headed south, as Zoey had planned. “So where ya headin’ anyhow?” Bread asked. Zoey hesitated, debating how much she wanted to tell him. It wasn’t like she had much of a plan, but how far would he want to go with her? How would she feel if he wanted to go all the way to the coast with her? She went out on a limb, deciding she at least owed him the truth. “I’m heading sout
h, towards the coast.” “Got friends down there?” “No, it’s just what I think someone close to me would have done.” “Mmmmm,” Bread grumbled. “What happened to’em?” He asked. It was a pretty blunt question, and Zoey still ached from that wound. She probably always would. Adjusting her grip on the straps of her backpack, she looked down the cluttered street, “He was one of the disappeared.” “Boyfriend?” Bread pried. “My twin brother.” “Sorry about yer brother. Didn’t have none of my folks disappear. Ghouls got my neighbors and a buddy, but none of them was the empty clothes ones.” Bread looked like he wanted to ask more, like he wanted to say more, but Zoey was grateful when he moved on to more light-hearted subjects as they continued south.

  Chapter 10

  Sasha limped along at Alec’s right heel as Alec and Kable made their way back to the cabin. Occasionally the Rottweiler would nuzzle Alec’s hand with her rough snout or rumble a low growl at Kable if he ventured too close. It was obvious that she was a tough dog, a survivor, like them. She didn’t whine or whimper about her leg, which Alec had wrapped as best he could with some gauze taken from the pharmacy. Judging by the small amount of blood showing through the shirt, the bleeding had mostly stopped. Alec wasn’t really sure if dogs could turn into abominations, but he was pretty sure being scratched by one wasn’t enough to make one turn. Thus far, Sasha hadn’t shown any signs of rage or change in eye color.