by Tracey Ward
I take his hand in my left and shake it firmly. “Yeah, me too,” I mutter. “I’m Jordan.”
“I know. You got here with the older guy and that girl Ali, right?”
“Yeah.”
“She’s cool,” he says neutrally. Not too complimentary, not too interested.
I nod in agreement. “Yeah, she’s the best.”
“You and her…?
“Yeah.”
“Cool. Got it,” he says with a quick nod. “So, seriously, are you in here all day, every day?”
I shrug. “It’s only been a few days but yeah. I come in every day.”
“No job yet?”
“Nah.”
“Is it because of the hand? Are you not cleared for work?”
I’m stunned by his bluntness. “No, my arm is fine. I think they’re more worried about the rest of me.”
He cracks a crooked grin. “Yeah, I get that. People are skittish.”
“You’re not?”
“I’ve seen it happen. I’ve seen the change, same as almost anyone here. But they forgot, I guess. If you were going to become one of the infected, it would have happened by now.”
“Yeah,” I mutter, not knowing if I believe that and wondering if he really does either.
The doc and nurses have been taking my blood every single day and sending it off to the lab across the dam. They know about me over there. I don’t know what they think of me and sometimes I’m worried I’ll be taken over there to be studied, but hopefully that’s just the conspiracy theorist in me. A little slice of my father.
“So,” Kyle says, pulling me out of my thoughts, “do you mind if I do my thing in here with you?”
“No, yeah. Of course. Free country.”
“You sure? I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. You seem… jumpy.”
I shrug, feigning indifference. “Zombies do that to you.”
“Yeah, but you’re from the outside,” he says, not buying the act. “You’ve been surrounded by them.”
I glare at him. “Are you going to talk to me about my emotional state or are you going to get to work.”
He grins again. “I’m here to work, man.”
We end up working out together. He just jumps in with me when I start my run and I can’t think of a good reason to tell him not to. We go in circles around the gym side by side, never saying a word. All I hear is the pounding of our sneakered feet on the hard floor and our even, measured breathing. I don’t hate having him here. I don’t love it because I’m still waiting for him to suddenly stab me or a group of his buddies to pop out of the locker room to beat me to death, but with every lap that passes and I continue to live, I’m more okay with it.
“Same time tomorrow?” he asks as he stretches out after the run.
“Don’t you have to work?”
He shrugs. “I can get away. You gonna be here?”
“Yeah, I guess. I don’t have anywhere else to be.”
He reaches out his hand, his left this time, and shakes mine. “I’ll see you then. Nice to meet you, Jordan.”
“You too, Kyle.”
***
“You made a friend, that’s great,” Alissa says at dinner that night.
You have the option here of eating in the restaurant turned cafeteria from a buffet or you can use food ration coupons to exchange for uncooked food you can prepare yourself in your own kitchen. That’s a choice used only but those of us with RVs and the people living in true houses over in the city. Here at the resort, most people are living out of the teepees or the hotel rooms. None of them have a full kitchen, so the buffet is their only real choice. Some team up with RV families, having made friends at work or having children that are friends from the daycare/school area that’s run out of the convention hall of the hotel during the day.
Syd’s an excellent cook when it comes to grilling and now that we have the luxury of all eating at the same time, that’s exactly what he does. We’re sitting outside in the surprisingly warm evening air listening to the river running by and soaking in the smoky smells of meat and veggies on a charcoal grill. There are spices to be used now. Butter, milk and other perishables on demand. We weren’t without them for long but it was long enough to miss them.
I look around, watching as other families enjoy the night as well. Little kids are running around together, getting underfoot and scolded, laughing and playing.
“I wouldn’t say he’s a friend exactly,” I tell Ali absently. “He’s just a guy who likes to run.”
“That’s weird.”
“What’s weird?”
“To enjoy running. It’s freakish. This guy is a freak.”
She has my attention now. “I like running.”
“Well, good. You’re a freak too. The two of you can be freaks together.”
This sounds like joking. It sounds like the banter that goes back and forth between us every day that never means a harmful thing. But it feels different. Her voice is all wrong. Her eyes are tight around the edges.
“Ali, are y—“ I stop myself, knowing that asking if she’s okay is the worst thing I can do here. It will tell her I think she’s acting off, something she already knows, but it will stress her out even more. “You gonna walk with me to the hospital tomorrow?”
“No,” she replies quickly. “I’ll go with the Repair Crew.”
“Okay.”
“Let’s eat!” Syd calls from the picnic table.
I follow Alissa as she slowly walks over.
“Sorry,” she mutters.
“It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not. I’m really sorry. I’m getting short tempered again.”
“Yeah, me too,” I admit softly. “It was going to happen with all of us living together again.”
“Yeah.”
Later that night I take a walk by myself. It’s not something I do very often considering this place is less safe for me than the zombie apocalypse raging outside the fence, but I need some time away. I need the space from Syd and his ever present scowl. I feel like Alissa needs some distance as well.
I walk around the RV area, careful to keep my ‘hands’ stuffed in the pockets of my hoodie to keep from being noticed. It’s too warm for the extra covering but when I hide my missing hand this way I fare better with strangers. They smile at me, waving and calling out greetings. I wave back with my left hand, trying to smile at them even though I know if they knew who I really was they’d ignore me or yank a log from the fire to shoo me away.
Eventually I wander into the large common area/rec room, somewhere I’ve never visited. I’m instantly drawn to the far wall. There’s a giant TV hung there above a fireplace in front of three leather couches forming a U around it. The TV is on and Super Mario Bros. flashes across the screen, pulling me like a moth to a flame. It’s not until I’m standing behind the couch that I can see the young kid sitting there. He’s got a WII remote in his hand and he looks so small in this huge space, so normal, that I feel a panic rising inside me. It feels familiar but foreign, like something I remember from a dream that’s not supposed to be real.
He glances over his shoulder at me quickly, his eyes unwilling to leave the screen.
“Do you want to play?” he asks, not sounding at all like he wants me to say yes.
I grin. “No, I’m good. I’m just checking the place out.”
“Are you new?”
“Yeah.”
“Cool.”
“How long have you been here?”
He shrugs, jumping deftly over a turtle shell he sent bopping back and forth between two pipes. “I don’t know. Awhile.”
“Do you like it?”
“Yeah. We didn’t have TV for a long time. I’m glad they have them here.”
I wonder what ‘a long time’ really means. This kid looks to be about seven and I doubt his concept of time is the same as mine. A week on the run probably felt like a month to him. I want to ask if his parents are here, how he made it to this place, but
I’m scared of his answer. I don’t want to know if they died and, sick as it may sound, I don’t want to hear that they lived. I’m annoyed watching this kid sitting here in clean clothes under the glow of power surging through the lights and into the TV in front of him. It should be sweet. Hopeful. That’s how Alissa would see it.
I see it as a slap in the face. A testament to the fact that somewhere along the line I did something horribly wrong. Someone saved this kid, brought him in to safety, and doing that with a seven year old couldn’t have been easy. I couldn’t even do it with a seventeen year old on day one.
“You sure you don’t want to play?” he asks. “I can switch to two players.”
I swallow hard, willing the venom down my throat and out of my voice. “No, thanks. I’ve gotta get going.”
“Okay. See ya.”
I get out of that room and out into the night air as fast as I can. When I burst out the door I’m nearly gasping. I’m also not thinking. My hand is exposed, my right one. I nearly walk right into a woman, probably the kid’s mother coming to get him, and she jumps back to avoid being trampled.
“What’s happened?” she asks urgently. Her eyes scan my body looking for bites or blood or decay. She calms when she sees nothing amiss other than my frantic breathing. “Are you alright?”
“I’m fine,” I say, trying to bring myself down.
“Are you sure? You look flushed. Are y—“
That’s when she sees my missing hand. Her face instantly contorts with fear and loathing.
“What have you done? Where’s my son?”
“There’s a kid in there playing video games,” I tell her calmly. “He’s fine.”
“If you hurt him,” she begins, pushing past me roughly without finishing the sentence.
“He’s fine!” I call after her.
“Get out of here! Stay away from us!” she cries.
As the door slowly swings shut I see her sprint for the couch. She grabs hold of her son, pulls him into her arms and squeezes him tightly. Just before the door clangs closed, I hear his whining protests and the faint sound of the familiar Mario death music.
Chapter Twenty
“I’m a freakin’ leper,” I grumble, hoisting a hand weight violently.
My left arm is getting ridiculously strong, though strength can’t change the fact that I still instinctually move to perform any task with my right hand first. I’m getting better about it. I’m catching myself before I bang it painfully into everything within a 3ft radius. It’s still frustrating.
“People are assholes,” Kyle grunts from the bench press.
“No joke.”
This is the second week Kyle and I are working out together. He comes in for about an hour every day, his lunch break I’m guessing, and we work the weights together. When I suggested we run, he admitted he hates running with a passion.
Alissa is right. I’m a freak.
“You’d think they’d love you. Make you a hero.”
“Why would they do that?”
Kyle looks over at me incredulously. “Are you serious? You survived a bite, man! That should give us all hope, not make us want to watch you burn.”
“Please don’t give them ideas. I’d take a gunshot to the head over burned at the stake any day of the week.”
“Not everyone feels that way about you, you know.”
“Yeah, I know. Most of the medical staff is good with me living. Alissa and sometimes Syd are happy about it.”
“I’m not looking to kill you.”
“Thanks for that, by the way.”
“Any time.”
“So only about 2,970 some people would rather I wasn’t here. That’s not so bad.”
Kyle chuckles as he sits up, sweat dripping off his brow. “It’s not everyone that’s scared of you.”
“No, I know. But it’s the majority. Enough to make it feel like everyone.”
“I think that can be boiled down to location.”
“Can’t really be helped. I’ve gotta live somewhere.”
“It doesn’t have to be where you are.”
“Are you suggesting I move into the hospital?”
“Nope. I’m suggesting you move in with me.”
I look at him in surprise. “You want me to move in with you?”
“Yep.”
“I don’t know, that’s a big step,” I tell him lightly. “And without a ring? How do I know you’re taking this relationship seriously?”
He smirks at me. “No rings, no reach arounds. No monogamy either. I won’t be tied down.”
“I can’t tell if this is getting more enticing or less.”
“Look, I’m serious,” he says as he approaches me. “It’s actually one of the reasons I’m here every day.”
I put down my weight, giving him my full attention. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m supposed to get to know you. Get you comfortable with me.”
“Are you supposed to be telling me this?”
“Probably not, but it’s the truth. You seem like the kind of guy who’d rather have the truth up front.”
“Wouldn’t everyone?”
Kyle laughs. “No way. People love to be lied to.”
“Alright, so what are you being honest about exactly?”
“You know the radio tower on the plateau?”
I nod slowly, wondering where this is going. “Yeah, of course. It’s how this place talks to the outside.”
“Do you know who does the talking?”
“Since we’re discussing it, I’m guessing you.”
He bobs his hand back and forth. “Eh, not exactly. But I work with the guys that do. Those tents up there are housing a few people from the town, including me, and six Army and Air Force members that were trapped when the quarantine first went up. They’re in charge of running the communications between us and the base across the river. They’re still active duty. They’re still taking orders and right now their orders are to keep you safe. In fact, while you were in the hospital two of them were on rotation guarding you.”
I scowl at him. “I never saw anyone.”
“You wouldn’t,” he replies with a grin, “but they were there.”
“Am I being guarded now?”
Kyle lifts his arms wide, giving me an expectant look.
“You?” I ask with surprise.
“What? You don’t think I could tussle?”
“Were you military before? Why are they using you?”
He drops his arms, looking a little deflated. “I was going in. I was in the recruitment process for the Air Force when everything fell apart. Then these guys showed up in town and I kind of fell in with them. They’ve been training me on what they know. Sort of made me honorary, I guess. They even got clearance for me to carry a weapon within the town like they do.”
“And you’re meant to keep me safe?”
“I think the exact words in the order were ‘keep him alive’ but we’re taking it to the next level.”
I sit down heavily on the bench behind me, running my hand over my face.
“What do they want with me?” I ask warily.
He’s quiet for a long time. “I don’t really know. Maybe nothing.”
I look at him through the splayed fingers of my hand. “Really?”
“Okay,” he agrees, also falling back onto a bench. “They want something. They’ve been taking your blood, right?”
“Yeah.” I drop my hand from my face to run it absently up and down my injured arm. It’s something I do when I’m not really thinking. I try to douse an invisible fire always burning there. It’s one of the reasons I love working out so much; it distracts me from the pain. “They take it every day. Alissa’s too. I guess they think since we were right there when it happened there’s something our bodies can tell them. I don’t know.”
“That might be one reason they’re taking yours. But another reason is definitely because you survived the bite.”
“Not
by some magic trick of my immune system,” I snap at him, feeling exhausted. “I hacked my hand off! What can they possibly learn from that?”
“A lot, actually. Spread rate of the infection, for one. The fact that there’s a window of opportunity for survival. Exposure to an infected’s fluids doesn’t automatically mean death.”
“It does if they bite you anywhere that’s not expendable.”
“Unless they can find a cure.”
I chuckle, shaking my head in disbelief. “You sound like Ali. There is no cure for this. Once a zombie, always a zombie. At least until someone puts a bullet in your brain.”
“Alright, not a cure but an immunization. That’s what they’re working towards. An injection to make a person impervious to the infection.”
“They’ll need more than my and Alissa’s blood to find that.”
“Oh, they’ve gotten more,” Kyle says quietly. “A lot more.”
“Like what?” I ask, not really sure I want to know.
He looks at me long and hard, debating something. Then he finally says, “I helped hack up a twice dead zombie. We killed it, cut it up and shipped it over the river for examination.”
I stare at him in shock. “That’s messed up.”
“I’ll have nightmares for the rest of my life. But it needed to be done and they made a lot of headway with it. Only now they—“ He cuts himself off, staring down at his hands as he opens and closes them quickly.
“They want a live one, don’t they?” I ask, catching on to his hesitance and white knuckled fists.
“Yeah,” he grinds out. “They want us to catch them a live one to study. Or autopsy. Billings says they’ll probably do a live autopsy since they don’t die until you destroy the brain. Can you imagine? How creepy would that be? Cutting into this moaning, groaning human body while it snaps and bites at you. It seems inhuman but then they’re inhuman so… I don’t know what it is.”
“It’s messed up,” I repeat quietly.
“Yeah,” he agrees. “This whole life is messed up.”
We sit in silence for a long time after that, both of us staring into the distance at nothing in particular. I imagine we’re both lost in thought about the horrors we’ve seen, the horrors we’re still bound to encounter before this thing is over. But when will it be over? Will it ever? Or will there simply come a day where we grow used to it? When it stops being this thing we’re surviving and becomes the life we’re living.