by Dana Fredsti
“I don’t feel so good.”
Griff looked at her. Mandy’s corneas were now yellow, shot through with red streaks, like bloody egg yolks.
“You don’t look so good, love.” She didn’t. Fucking unappetizing, if the truth be told.
She started coughing again, this time doubling over with the force of the spasms. Dark fluid trickled out from the corners of her mouth, as her eyes widened in fear and pain.
“I don’t—” The cough turned into retching, gouts of viscous black liquid spraying over the white down comforter. Griff raised an eyebrow and got out of bed, taking the wine glass with him.
“Call nine-one—” Mandy vomited again, her eyes now leaking blood.
“I think it’s too late for that, love.” Griff sipped his wine and watched as she went into convulsions, her entire body wracked with spasms, until one last back-breaking shudder engulfed her frame.
And then she stopped breathing.
Griff finished his wine and set the glass on the bedside table. Calmly putting on his clothes, he wandered into the small kitchen, had a glass of water, and pulled a carving knife from a block on the counter. It was a cheap-shit knife set, but it would have to do.
A thumping sound from the bedroom alerted him. He turned in time to see Mandy’s reanimated corpse fumble its way through the bedroom door, once-brown corneas now corpse-white in the center of that bloody sea of yellow.
A shame, he thought. Ah, well.
“Come here, love,” Griff said softly, raising the knife.
Never let it be said that he didn’t take responsibility for his actions.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
* * *
We held a memorial service for Kai in the quad early the next morning.
The weather was gray and foggy again, as if in sympathy. Everyone stood in a semi-circle under a tall redwood, the wild cards at the front of the group. The turnout would have gratified Kai—it would have confirmed that he was every bit as popular as he thought he was.
Egotistical little shit, I thought affectionately.
I figured at least eighty or so people showed up, both military and civilians, even the ones who’d given us the stink-eye when we’d first started fighting the outbreak. Shades of X-Men, right? But after we’d taken out the swarm, many of them had started treating us like heroes and, more importantly, human beings. Kai’s death proved we were just as vulnerable as they were.
Jamie was there, eyes brimming with tears as she gave me a hug before going to stand near Simone. Colonel Paxton gave a short but eloquent eulogy. He talked about Kai’s bravery, and sacrifice for the greater good, but how ultimately nothing was worth the loss of Kai’s life. I agreed with “nothing being worth the loss,” but how getting killed by “friendly fire” contributed to the greater good, well, that was beyond me.
I guess it was better than saying that Kai’s death was a tragic mistake and an utter waste, which was closer to the truth.
Paxton asked if anyone else wanted to say a few words, but no one took him up on it. We were all too shell-shocked. Lil and Tony were both emotional wrecks, but Lil was much easier to deal with because she accepted whatever affection and comfort she could get. Mack and I took turns letting her cry on our shoulders, with Nathan filling in as grief counselor now and again, in his own gruff way. He had a soft spot for Lil, and generally reserved his least sarcastic moods for her.
Tony, on the other hand, shrugged off any attempts to comfort him. His attitude toward the rest of us was beyond hostile, almost as if he hated us—and probably himself—for being alive. He seemed especially pissed off at Mack, because Mack had defended Kai’s killer, and he couldn’t forgive that yet.
My guess was that he also couldn’t forgive himself for beating up on a woman, even if he hadn’t known what he was doing at the time. It was a truly fucked up, complicated guilt cocktail served to someone far too young.
And I kind of understood. Personally, I didn’t know where Mack got his endless well of compassion, because even though it had been an accident, I still couldn’t help but feel angry—at the woman, and at Kai and the rest of us for getting sloppy, letting our guards down, and turning a very serious mission into a stupid game.
The only person who could get near Tony was Gentry, maybe because of the geeky bond he’d formed with Tony and Kai from day one. Whatever the reason, the rest of us backed off in unspoken agreement and let Gentry take point on this particular mission. We were barely holding together as it was, and didn’t need the emotional collateral damage.
* * *
Unfortunately, death didn’t take a holiday.
We went out the next day, Nathan joining us this time. We were down to six wild cards.
Technically Simone was one of us, but she didn’t exactly count because Paxton wouldn’t authorize her to go on any sort of combat outings. Her knowledge of the zombie contagion was too valuable, and most of her time was spent working in the lab with Dr. Albert. Gabriel counted as a sort of half wild card, because he couldn’t get infected again if he was bitten, and he could kick major ass even without the enhanced abilities.
Gentry and Nathan seemed to be the least potentially explosive combination for Tony, leaving Lil, Gabriel, and me to work together. Lil’s killing exuberance was unusually subdued, which wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.
We found a small pocket of zombies in the forest, and managed to get the job done quickly and quietly. Too quietly. A week earlier, if you would have told me I’d miss the irritating antics Tony and Kai always pulled, I’d have laughed and made you watch Phantom Menace— repeatedly, eyes propped open à la Clockwork Orange.
But now I’d have gladly sat through hours of their dueling Jar Jar Binks impersonations, just to see Kai alive again.
On the upside—and I desperately needed any kind of upside—Gabriel’s mood shifts were less extreme again, and I no longer felt as if I was constantly navigating a minefield strewn with nails. Whenever I thought about how he’d covered me with his own body, just to protect me from harm, I felt all warm and fuzzy.
And maybe just a little bit turned on.
* * *
Two days after the funeral, we cleared an exclusive enclave of expensive vacation homes resting along the top of a ridge that lay between Redwood Grove and the ocean. We had military backup this time—a team of six men and women working with us to sweep the nooks and crannies of the surrounding woods. The sweep shook loose a few zombies, emaciated and pretty much incapacitated, but no survivors.
I was beginning to wonder why we were obsessing about the quarantine area around Redwood Grove, when from the reports that were coming in, this thing was popping up in other parts of the country. Then I remembered my parents, who lived up in Lake Country, and redoubled my efforts.
I also wondered if more wild cards had cropped up in the other areas where Dr. Albert’s deadly vaccine had been tested. If so, did they have military backup, or were the people inside those quarantine areas just shit out of luck—left to survive or die on their own? I wanted to ask someone all of these questions, preferably Simone, but she wasn’t available. She and Dr. Albert were spending every spare minute in the lab working toward what I assumed was a cure.
Although knowing Dr. Albert, he might just be working on building a better, faster zombie.
I was determined to talk to someone, though, so that night, when Lil fell asleep earlier than usual—wiped out from the physical and emotional drain of the last few days—I decided it was safe to go out for a while. I left her in our room, guarded by two very fat felines, one on either side of her head, and ventured into the quiet hallway.
It was time to take an exceptionally grouchy bull by the horns, and corner Gabriel in his lair. After all, Gabriel was part of the DZN’s inner circle, so he should be able to fill me in on a few details—such as when we were going to stop dicking around in Redwood Grove. I wanted reassurance that the plague hadn’t spread anywhere near my folks’ ranch, and that they were still s
afe.
Mostly I wanted to know that we weren’t wasting our time.
Of course, I had other reasons for seeking out Gabriel instead of, say, Nathan or even Colonel Paxton—although truth be told, Paxton definitely intimidated me. It was time to end the ambiguity about our relationship once and for all. Gabriel either wanted me, or he didn’t. If there were insurmountable issues, just because he might turn into a flesh-eating nut job, then I needed to hear him say it. Or if he’d simply lost interest, I’d rather know, so I could move on and stop feeling like the heroine of a really twisted Lifetime movie. My Son, My Love, My Zombie.
The hallways were thankfully clear. Not that anyone would care, but there was something so... juvenile about trying to make my way unnoticed into Gabriel’s room. I felt like a teenage girl at summer camp, sneaking into the boys’ dormitory, padding on the cheap linoleum in my bare feet, blue flannel pajama bottoms and white tank top.
His door was shut, but I could hear music coming from underneath the door. Some really cheesy New Age crap, like...
Oh.
Wow.
Yanni?
I took a deep breath, then rapped sharply on the door. I heard a distinctly irritated sigh. Guess he was really rocking out.
The door opened a crack, revealing one of Gabriel’s denim-blue eyes.
“Ashley.” He stared at me, without opening the door any further.
I waited a polite few seconds before saying anything.
“Can I come in?”
“Um...” He scratched his head, looking distinctly uncomfortable.
I rolled my eyes.
“Look, I’m not after your virtue or anything here. I just want to talk.”
“Oh,” he said. Then, after a few more seconds, “Okay.” He opened the door just wide enough for me to enter. I enjoyed the unaccustomed sight of him in sweat pants and a black tank top, just tight enough to show off his pectoral muscles.
Why can’t I find a nice, non-neurotic guy to drool over?
The room was even more Spartan than the one I shared with Lil, lacking the homey touch of a fragrant cat box. There was a CD player—the source of the auditory pain—and a stack of books on a little desk next to his bed. They all looked academic—not a potboiler among them.
Since he hadn’t offered me a seat, I decided to take the initiative and plunked myself on the edge of the mattress, a basic twin. Barely large enough for one person, let alone two. Not that I cared, right?
“What did you want to talk about?”
I raised an eyebrow. His clueless levels were unusually high, but I didn’t have to start with the pesky personal stuff.
“So this thing has spread to other towns, right?” I said. “Wherever Dr. Crazy Pants sent the vaccine for testing?”
“Uh, right.” He sounded surprised, as if he’d expected me to proposition him. “From what we’re hearing, there have been more outbreaks.”
“Have they found any other wild cards?”
Gabriel leaned over and turned the volume down on the CD player, and I was tempted to thank him for that act of mercy.
“I don’t know.” He leaned against the far wall and folded his arms in what some might call a protectively defensive gesture. “I don’t think so. At least none that I’ve heard about.”
“So how come we’re still dicking around in Redwood Grove, instead of going to help them? The kind of stuff we’re dealing with now could be handled by regular army, couldn’t it?”
Gabriel sighed, the sound more weary than exasperated.
“Our primary goal at this time is to ensure a secure base of operations, from which Dr. Albert and Professor Fraser can work on a cure.” It could have come straight out of the manual, and he knew it.
“Okay, seriously here. You’re telling me there’s no place else in the world that’s as secure and high-tech as Big Red?” I paused to let that sink in. “I mean, wouldn’t they be better off in a place that hasn’t been crawling with flesh-eating vermin lately?”
“They would,” he agreed. “But there isn’t one—all of the outbreaks are geographically linked with other medical and research facilities currently equipped to deal with the contagion.”
I looked at him sharply.
“That can’t be a coincidence.”
“It could be.” Gabriel stared straight ahead. “But I don’t think it is. And neither do Professor Fraser or Colonel Paxton.”
Shit.
“That can’t be good. Right? I mean, there’s no way this is a coincidence. We’re talking some sort of deliberate conspiracy here. Someone who knows about the DZN and the virus. Someone who wants it to spread.”
Gabriel was silent. His expression said it all, though. He thought he’d said too much already. He’d suck as a poker player.
I had another thought.
“Or did they send the vaccine to places where the DZN has research facilities, to see if they could contain the outbreaks? Like a test or something.”
Or.
I stopped, not sure if I should voice my thoughts. Gabriel looked at me, probably struck by my sudden and uncharacteristic silence.
“What?” he said.
It was my turn to remain silent. Hopefully I had a better poker face than Gabriel.
“Ash, you’ve got something on your mind. Say it.”
Okay, guess not.
“If whoever did this knows about the wild cards, and about Jake and...” I trailed off.
“People like me and Jake.” Gabriel’s tone was carefully neutral.
I nodded.
“If they know, then maybe they want to find more of us, for some reason. And are willing to kill a shitload of people to do it.”
Gabriel pushed himself away from the wall.
“But why? I mean, we all know the value of the wild cards. But someone like Jake... or like me?” He frowned. “What would be the point?’
“Maybe they want to develop some sort of super-duper-über soldier.”
Gabriel snorted.
“Okay, fine,” I grumbled. “It’s a cliché plot device any way you look at it, but clichés exist for a reason, y’know.” I stood up and started to pace. The more I thought about it, the more convinced I was that I was on the right track. “Someone out there thinks it’s a good idea. And worth the collateral damage.”
Then another thought occurred to me. I stopped.
“They don’t attack him. Jake, I mean. But why not? Why weren’t there zombies clawing to get inside at Bigfoot’s Revenge? Or up on Ridge Crest?”
“They think he’s one of them,” Gabriel said flatly.
“Then why do they attack you?” He shot me a look, and I hastily added, “I mean, you have the same condition, right?”
“The antiserum. As long as I take it, I’m still human.” Gabriel’s voice was bleak as he added, “Unless it stops working.”
I really didn’t want to ask my next question, because I was ninety-nine percent sure I already knew the answer. But I asked it anyway.
“Do you think. I mean, is that a possibility?”
“Yes.” He sat on the edge of the bed, his shoulders slumping in a way I’d never seen before. “Both Professor Fraser and Dr. Albert feel that the antiserum is losing its efficacy, at least in its current dosage.”
I sat down next to him.
“So they’ll up the dosage, right?”
“Yes, for now.” He looked at me. “But what happens when that dosage stops working? And how much of it can I even take, without inducing some sort of fucked up side effect?”
“Are there any side effects?” I asked.
He shrugged. “You’ve seen some of them, when the drug starts to wear off. Irrational outbursts of anger, extreme mood swings, overreacting to situations and people.” He stared at the floor. “You used the term ’roid rage the other day. I guess that describes it pretty well.”
I nodded slowly, as sudden light was shed on his recent erratic behavior.
“And you didn’t have these reacti
ons on the lower dosage?”
“No,” Gabriel replied.
“You’re not going to turn into Jake, you know. You’re just not like him.”
“Not yet.”
“You won’t be.” I spoke with an assurance that I almost believed. “I don’t think you have it in you to lose control like that. Jake went crazy. He had no frame of reference for what happened to him, to his family, or the world.” I looked him in the eyes.
“You do.”
“That doesn’t change the reality of what could happen to me if the serum runs out, or stops working.”
I thought about the implications.
“Would it... does it have to be fresh?” I asked. “Could you stockpile it, so there’s no chance of it running out?”
As soon as I asked the question, I knew it was a bad idea.
“What does it matter?” Gabriel turned toward me, moving violently enough to make me stand up and take a step backward. He stood up, too, and grabbed my shoulders, glaring down. “The thought of having to eat any living creature is bad enough. But a person? And yet, that part of me is starting to crave it... knowing that one of these days I could be looking at you, wanting to kiss you, wanting you. and suddenly that desire could turn into literal hunger.”
He gave me an uncompromising look.
“If I ever turn into that,” he said, “I need to know that you will kill me.”
I stared up at him, speechless. His fingers dug into my shoulders hard enough to hurt.
“I don’t want to lose you, Ash. but even more, I don’t want to lose myself. And if I hurt you, I’ve lost everything. Promise me.”
“I. I promise.” His grip relaxed.
“But only if there’s absolutely no hope for a cure,” I added.
And his grip tightened right back up again. Ouch.
“Not good enough,” he said. “No conditions.”
“Tough shit,” I said. “It’ll have to do, because that’s my final word on it.”
“Damn it, Ash, it’s not your choice to make!”
“Yeah, actually it is.” Wrenching away from his grip, I turned and slammed a hand against the wall, leaving a slight dent in the cheap plaster. “If there’s no hope, then I will kill you myself. But as long as there’s a chance you can be cured, I will not let you go.” I turned to face him again. “Tell me you wouldn’t do the same thing in my place.”