Quarantined (Book 2): In the End

by Tracey Ward

  “I imagine,” I agree with him, salivating over the pile of pancakes in front of us. Then a door opens and the smell wafts into my nostrils again. My appetite is lost. “Do you have to play round up today?”

  He takes a long time answering. I worry he’s scared. That he’s afraid to go out there and wrangle zombies with no permission to kill them. No lie, I’d be afraid. But when I glance at him I see him doing exactly what I did. He’s staring with sad eyes at the pancakes sitting golden brown and warm. Perfectly beautiful but completely inedible.

  “Maybe there’s toast,” I suggest.

  He nods glumly, casts one last longing look at the pancakes and moves on.

  “Yeah, I have to go outside the fence to help bring the Zs in.”

  “Are you nervous?”

  “Nah. I’ve been out there with these guys before. It’ll be fine. We’ve got nets and guns and all kinds of tricks. We’ll set some Wile E. Coyote type trap and bring the things in.”

  “Are you bringing them in here?” I ask, shocked.

  “No, no,” he says hurriedly. “I mean ‘in’ as in to the drop point. The guys on the other side will come riding in on their helicopter, dressed in hazmat suits with big cages. They’ll take them one by one back home to base to be dissected.”

  “And there’s a kid?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it,” he blurts out, his voice turning hard.

  I nod silently in understanding. He doesn’t want to talk about it for the same reason I felt the need to mention it. It’s messed up.

  We eat a quiet breakfast of toast and dry cereal in a far corner of the cafeteria. No one bothers us. People barely even glance at us. I thought that with the reminder of three infected being allowed to press against the fence that people would be all up in arms about removing me from the town, that they would feel like I was a piece of the outside allowed in, but it’s done the opposite. Real zombies creating a true threat has slipped me to the back burner. I could get used to this. We should have infected threating to breach the walls more often.

  After breakfast Kyle heads off to meet with the team that will go outside with him. They have to gear up with protective wear, guns, ropes, nets, knives – the list is endless. It’ll take them half the morning to get ready, like a kid trying to go outside and play in the snow. Takes him hours to put together the cumbersome gear that he’ll only wear for twenty minutes.

  I leave Kyle to it and head for my new bed that I’ve yet to use. I’ve been up for over twenty-four hours and it’s starting to get to me. I’m listing slightly to the left when I walk and my eyes are burning and droopy. It’s when I collapse onto my bed and start to worry I’ll have my nightmare that I realize I haven’t sent word to my parents yet. I haven’t added my name to the list of the living or Beth’s to the list of the lost. I intended to. I truly meant to and when I wake up I will. I vow to myself that I’ll get it done. I’ll get that closure. But for now I’m already halfway gone to REM and I’m too confused and tired to put the right names on the right list.

  Chapter Twenty Three

  When I wake up I find it’s twelve hours later. I don’t normally sleep that long unless I’m sick but considering the night’s events, maybe I qualify. I check in with the guys in the tents, a different group than I’m used to working with, and find that that crew who went out to collect the Zs aren’t back yet. It’s dark outside but no one seems concerned. Last anyone heard on the walkie was that they had tagged and bagged two and were making the drop on the second one. They have the male left to go back for, the one farthest away in the north by the resort, then they’ll deliver him and head back in. It’s a long, meticulous process, one I’m glad I’m not part of.

  I decide to catch a shower, some food and go find Alissa. She’ll be at work again in the hospital by now but maybe I can snag her for just a second. Just long enough to look her in the eyes and see that she’s alright. As I head for the road leading down off the plateau, I eye the radio room. I should go there. I should tell them to add mine and Beth’s names to the lists but I can’t do it yet. I want to, I intend to do it, but I can’t bring myself to have that talk with someone right now. I don’t know who’s in there and I kind of want to wait until it’s someone I know. Someone like Gabrielle who might keep it quiet if I lose myself in there. Or she might pillow talk it to Kyle, I don’t know. I can’t know anything for sure.

  Once I’m clean and fed I head out across town to the hospital. I’m breathing in the newly clear night air and feeling grateful for small favors. My dinner didn’t taste like stale death. It’s a good thing to be thankful for.

  “She’s not here, sweetheart,” Adel, an older RN calls out to me when I enter the hospital.

  She’s sitting behind a small desk shuffling papers. She barely looked up when I came in. She’s one of the women who was on rotation watching out for me when I was hurt. I usually saw her through a pain and drug fueled haze but I remember her wrinkled hands being kind and gentle.

  “She’s not working tonight?”

  “No, she’s working. She and Leah were called out to the quarantine tent for the night. They’ve got those boys out there gathering Zs and they’ll all need to be cleaned and quarantined when they get back. Leah and Alissa went to lend a hand.”

  “Oh,” I say, feeling surprised. It doesn’t sit well with me having her out there near the fences. I don’t like the idea of her being so close to people coming back in either. People who might try to hide a fever, something I can understand. But when it puts Ali at risk I don’t understand anything but anger. “Do you think it’d be alright—“

  “Go,” she answers without looking up from her paperwork. “That girl is not going to be angry to see you of all people.”

  “I don’t know if other people will be so happy to see me.”

  She looks up at me now, her brow pinched. “And what do you care what ‘other people’ think?”

  “I don’t want to cause trouble for her.”

  Adele laughs. “Jordan, these are not times to be pussy footing around trying to make other people happy. Do you want to see your girl?”

  I smile. “Yes.”

  “And I promise you, your girl wants to see you. So what are you going to do?”

  I lean over the desk quickly, kiss her cheek and turn to run out the door.

  “There you go, getting fresh and starting trouble,” she calls after me. “Good for you, sweetheart!”

  “Thank you, Adele!”

  “Anytime!”

  I run the whole way to the quarantine. It’s not a long way but it’s enough to ruin the shower I took. I don’t care. I’m excited for some crazy reason. I’m amped up and jazzed to see Alissa as though I haven’t seen her in ages. In a way I haven’t. I haven’t been separated from her for more than an hour since this madness started and here I’ve gone more than a day without her. I don’t like it. Maybe it makes me crazy or codependent or some other therapy word Alissa would know and make fun of, but I don’t care. I miss her. I’m better when I’m with her. I’m solid. I’m allowed to be angry and cranky and a jerk because I know she’ll bring me around again. She’ll bring me back to me. Back home. It’ll be a little thing like an insult or a joke or a kiss on the sly, but it’ll change my entire outlook in a heartbeat. That’s what you’re supposed to search for, right? Your best friend. Your better half.

  When I reach the tent I slow to catch my breath. What I catch is the sound of a chopper in the distance. The delivery. They must have bagged the third Z which means they’ll be returning any minute. If I want to talk to Ali, I better do it quick because she’s about to be very busy. I head for the tent door and stop dead. There are angry voices coming from inside. Alissa’s for one. Syd is the other. My heart sinks but I don’t turn away. I’m going to do what Adele said to do. I’m going to see my girl and if I’m lucky, I’ll get to start some shit while I’m at it.

  “You need to get out of here now,” Syd is growling.

  “No, yo
u need to leave,” Alissa barks back. “You have no business here. I’m here to help. You’re here to yell at people.”

  “Not people, just you. Let’s go.”

  “No.”

  All eyes shift to me the second I enter the tent. The tension and anger hits me like heat rolling out of an oven, slapping me in the face.

  “You brought Jordan too?!” Alissa cries. “You’re unbelievable.”

  “I didn’t bring him with me. I shouldn’t have to.”

  Her eyes dart to me again. “Then what are you doing here?”

  I grin at her hostility. “I came to see you. I missed you.”

  Her face softens, a grin forming on her lips. “I missed you too.”

  “Al,” Syd starts up again.

  “No,” she tells him, her face and voice turning instantly to ice. “We’re done. I’m a grown woman and I’m staying. This is my job. Do you get that?”

  “It’s not safe.”

  “Are you insane? Nothing is safe anymore. Where would you have me working? In the kitchens? Maybe the laundry? Should I be barefoot and pregnant folding socks?”

  “Who folds their socks?” I ask.

  “Who said anything about pregnant?” Syd explodes. “Are you—“

  His eyes shift to me before he can finish the question and there’s so much violent hate in them I nearly step back. Nearly.

  “You,” he says in a low growl.

  “Dad, don’t be stupid. It’s a saying,” Alissa complains.

  “So you’re not pregnant?”

  “Not that I know of… for… it’s not…”

  “Al,”

  “Ali?” I ask, feeling my stomach drop to my feet.

  “Incoming!” a voice calls from outside.

  There’s the sound of tires on the loose earth. A revving of engines, the squeal of brakes, then shouts and cries overlapping each other. Leah bursts from the corner she was silently observing from, scaring the crap out of me in the process, and rushes into the night. Alissa jumps to action as well, prepping a cart full of gauze, needles and bottles.

  “Al, answer me,” Syd demands, stepping toward her.

  “Dad, not now. Get out of the way. They’re bringing in wounded.”

  Syd and I both step to opposite corners of the tent. We’re sure to stay out of the way but neither of us is leaving here, no matter what comes through that door.

  Doors slam outside as hurried voices rattle off information. They come closer, finally bursting through the door in a rush of air, dust and blood. I can smell it before I see it, but when I see it, I wish I hadn’t. Someone’s on a gurney being wheeled in quickly to the center of the room. Bodies flank him on either side and I can’t get a look at the person’s face but what I can see is the wound. It’s not a bite, it’s a gash. It’s a missing piece of human anatomy but not like my hand. This isn’t an appendage. Someone has taken a pound of flesh from this guy, straight out of his leg. They quickly drape a sheet over the wound but it soaks through immediately and I know an artery has been severed. How long has it been left to bleed like that?

  “There’s nothing to be done,” Leah says quietly, her calm voice cutting through the hysteria of the men around her.

  “No, it has to work. It worked before,” Simmons argues.

  “Not like this. It wasn’t anything like this.”

  “Should we have severed the leg?” Billings asks.

  I’m doing the math now. I’m counting heads and voices to find out who is missing. Of the people I know personally, there are only two. Kyle and Alvarez. From the build and clothing on the body there’s no way to tell if it’s one of them. I want to step closer, to see the face, to know, but then again I don’t because part of me already does. The sinking feeling in my stomach Alissa gave me just a moment ago is building. It’s digging, dropping, anchoring into the ground. And it’s not done yet.

  “It wouldn’t have mattered. He still would have bled out. You couldn’t save him,” Leah tells them patiently.

  I see shaking heads. Simmons wipes angrily at his face.

  “We put it down, Simmons,” Billings tells him stiffly. “The SOB that did this to him, he’s in the ground.”

  “No he’s not, he’s on that chopper. He’s headed to the base.”

  “With a bullet in his face,” Billings argues angrily.

  “We should have saved him.” Simmons steps away as he rubs his hands across his short hair over and over again, his eyes never leaving the face I can’t bring myself to see. “We owed him that.”

  “You couldn’t,” Leah reminds him. She touches his arm softly and he collapses against her. I can hear him weeping openly as she holds onto him. “You did everything you could for him. You’re good men. You brought him home. You didn’t leave him.”

  There’s silence in the room after that. Simmons calms as Leah rubs her hand up and down his back like she’s soothing a child. Eventually he stands again, nodding to her in thanks. He keeps his head low, avoiding all of our eyes but there’s not judgment waiting for him. Everyone in this room understands his sorrow. We’ve all lost someone to this thing. To this illness that takes from you and molds what you love into a walking horror show.

  I don’t know what changes but I feel Leah tense from all the way in my corner.

  “Boys,” she says with forced calm, “how long ago did this happen?”

  Billings takes a slow step back from the gurney. I watch his hand slip to his sidearm.

  “Over fifteen minutes ago. We thought he bled out.”

  There’s a low growl that emanates through the room. It’s nowhere and everywhere all at once.

  “Not soon enough,” Leah whispers, backing away as well.

  The tension in the room builds as we all become aware of what’s happening. There’s no time to run. There’s no place to hide. We’re trapped in this room with an infected. Strike that. With a fresh infected.

  When he moves it’s faster than I expected. It’s almost too fast to see. He lunges from the gurney to Simmons, reaching for him with angry, steely hands. Billings draws his gun and quickly fires a shot. It sinks into the Zs shoulder near the neck but it doesn’t stop him. It doesn’t even slow him down. Neither does the missing chunk of thigh on his left leg. He spins around to face Billings and his gun. That’s when I get a look at him. I already knew but now I know.

  It’s Kyle.

  His familiar face is still so alive and utterly him. It makes Billings hesitate. He doesn’t take the kill shot sitting right in front of him. His hesitation will cost us all. Kyle turns and reaches for the closest victim he can find. He goes for Alissa.

  She sees him coming for her and she’s ready. God bless those reflexes of hers. She drops to her knees to avoid his hands. If he were a slow, used up old infected it’d be enough. He’d probably stumble over her comically and we’d all run away to live and fight another day. But Kyle is fresh and fast. His higher reasoning is still intact and even though Billings puts another round in his back, he still bends down to get his hands on Ali.

  Syd tackles him from the side, taking him to the ground in a loud crash of metal and glass as the table Alissa had assembled falls to the ground. Kyle growls, Syd groans and we all rush toward them to help. Billings can’t get a clean shot anymore, not without hitting Syd, so we all move in to pull Kyle off of him.

  Simmons and Billings each grab onto shoulders as I climb on Kyle’s back and wrap my left arm around his neck. It’s nearly impossible, like moving a truck, but we’re able to pull Kyle back. He fights and thrashes against us, snarling with his mouth open and jaws snapping. I think of the hours I spent in the gym with him. Of the weights we lifted. Of the strength I helped him build that’s now a wild, raging animal intent on killing us all.

  “What do we do?” Simmons cries.

  “There’s nothing we can do. He’s gone!” Billings shouts back.

  Kyle succeeds in throwing an arm, knocking Billings back. He rushes back in, taking an elbow to the face that mak
es a sickening crack sound. Billings grunts in pain as a wave of blood pours down his face and over his mouth. He shakes his head quickly, breathing hard and then latches on to Kyle’s free arm again. This is a lost cause.

  “We can tie him down. Secure him to something.” Simmons suggests, his voice strained.

  “Guys,” I grunt.

  “And then what?” Billings argues. “Keep him tied up as a pet? We can’t cure this! No one can!”

  “Guys!” I shout.

  “What?”

  I look at Simmons because I know Billings is already aware of the situation.

  “You know what we have to do,” I tell him.

  He shakes his head, cursing over and over again. “I can’t, man. I can’t!”

  “It was the male, wasn’t it?” I ask him.

  He nods silently.

  “And you put it to ground. They’ll be looking for a replacement.”

  His face crumples as he fights the tears that threaten him again. But he nods in understanding. No one wants that for Kyle. We’d expect him to do this for us, we have to do it for him.

  I turn to Billings to find he’s already lifted his weapon.

  “Let go, Simmons,” he tells him quietly. “Move to the side so I don’t hit you. Turn around if you want.”

  Simmons shakes his head. “No, I won’t turn my back on him.”

  “Good. That’s good. Count of three you guys let go, alright?”