Born to Fight

by Brown, Tara

  I feel sick thinking about it. My own family participated somehow. My dad must have been a scientist too. My mom must have been a complete idiot.

  I slide against the wall and creep, pushing away all the thoughts I'm having. My stomach is a ball of nerves and butterflies, but I want that gun. This side of the parkade has been destroyed completely. It's an avalanche of gravel and broken concrete. It really would the be the easy way to come. I sigh walk down the debris, onto the ground where he is.

  I feign a limp and hold my stomach. The knife is in the back of my pants, waiting.

  I moan slightly. There is no way I can sneak up on him from here. I climb over the edge of the broken concrete and stumble down the crumbled debris.

  His eyes lift. Disgust and confusion settle in. He frowns at me, "Stop."

  I shake my head, "Sir, please help me. I ate some food I found and I think it was bad."

  His lip curls up, "Stop, where you are." He lifts the gun and points it at me. My stomach tightens more. I could throw up, I'm so nervous.

  I shake my head, "My dad is one of the military heads. I got lost and hid from the infected. Please help me."

  He tightens his grip on the gun and jerks it at me, "Stop walking, bitch."

  I stop and crouch down. I don't like being called bitch. I hold my stomach and fake heave. I don’t have to try very hard. I've used this one before.

  He comes closer, just close enough. "What's your dad's name?"

  "General…General…" I gag and burp.

  He comes closer to hear my soft words. I shoot up and grab the gun, slamming it back into him and lifting the barrel. The hit in the chest dislodges his fingers from the trigger. I pull the gun and swing it. It clips him in the side of the head.

  I pull the blade from my back pocket, and in one fell sweep, I slice it across his jugular. I wipe it on his pants as he falls. I shoulder the gun and drag him through the alley as fast I can. My guts are killing me.

  I round the corner where the infected are. I watch them milling about as I drag him. He's sputtering and gurgling still. I stop and rifle through his pockets. He has a small blade, a water bottle, a picture that I don't let my eyes see, and a bunch of shells for the gun. I pocket them and the knife as I stand up.

  I look around. The infected are milling further down. I bend down and pick up a chunk of broken concrete and toss it down the alley. It lands in between several of them. They look at it and bend down. I sigh and pick up another one. I toss it to the same spot and hit one of the ones bent over.

  He stands and looks with his bloody, dirty face. He makes a high moan. I shudder but toss another piece. The ones next to him start making the high moans. I turn and run back to the side of the building. I am gasping for air, my nerves are on fire, and I'm trembling, but I try to stay perfectly still.

  The high moans become the ragged screams as they draw nearer to the dead man. It's the third time I've done it. It rots me inside, but it's us and them and I don’t know where all my us are. I don’t know if they're all safe.

  My hands find their way to my ears when the ripping starts. My breath is ragged like their throats. I don’t have time to wait and hide. I turn and run back the way I came. I slide my body against the wall where I crawled down and hide. The men should be here by now but I don’t hear them. They really are so stupid, as to sit in a parkade surrounded by the infected and chat?

  I'm about to crawl up the debris but my stomach does its thing it does where it makes me stop and wait—like it knows something I don’t. I freeze and wait.

  "George!" one of the men shouts from above me, inside of the parkade.

  "God dammed, George. Where you at?" the other man shouts.

  My skin tingles. I try not to think about the barbecues and whatever U2 was. I try not to imagine their memories as I finger the rifle in my hands. I hold my breath and my back, tight to the wall.

  "Shit!" one man yells and the debris starts moving. He blows by me running down the hill. The second man does the same. As they make it to the bottom of the hill and around the corner to where their friend is being eaten, I scramble up it. I run, not looking back. My fingers dig into the broken wall of the parkade, as I get back onto the level they were on.

  I hear popping gunshots as I make it past the cars. I'm shaking and tired but my adrenaline is fired. My feet slap against the concrete as I round the corner. I stop and peek back. No one is following me. I'm sucking air in a wheeze like the infected. I'm probably infected. My throat is probably becoming ruined.

  The gunshots are still popping in the air. I jump over the debris and crawl under the broken bits, as I run to where Vincent and Anna are standing very still in the darkness. I almost miss them, but she has the vines parted.

  He looks back at me and shakes his head, "What are you? You're not like the other Gen kids."

  I scowl, "I don’t know. I'm a girl. A pissed-off girl." I don’t have an answer.

  He nods, "Some girl."

  Anna rolls her eyes, "You haven’t seen her with her wolf and a pistol in each hand, or better yet, her bow."

  I swallow, my stomach is burning still, and I have to pee again. I pull the vines back and look down on the dead infected. The men are doubling back and shooting them in the head where they lay, just in case. It's the first smart thing I've seen them do.

  "I need my wolf and we need to get the hell out of here," I whisper.

  "We won't leave Leo, Em," Anna rubs my arm.

  I nod, "I know. We gotta find Jake and Will."

  She swallows and shakes her head, "We have a meeting place outside of the city." She doesn’t say anymore. I know she won't, not in front of him.

  The other infected have started to come around the corners to where the dead are. The left is now full, but the right side of the parkade is empty. He points to the small, thin alley. I nod. We run to the right side and climb down the debris and broken pillars.

  When my feet touch the ground again, I almost collapse. I'm sweating and my body won't stop trembling. We round the corner. One of the infected is wandering about the alley. I finger the gun but know it will draw the others. I swallow hard and pull my shirt up over my face. I panic and try to come up with another option but there isn’t one.

  I look back at Vincent and Anna, "Stay here." Looking at her makes me sick. I can't have her around the infected. I look back at the big infected man and try to form something of a plan. If I get it, so will she.

  The walls of the city close in on me as I search for another way out.

  I take a deep breath and try to strategize. If I don’t breathe and we wash me off right away, I might be okay. I know I'm lying to myself as I pull the blade and sneak up on the infected. He's large, round and tall. His skin hangs now, though. His body is eating itself. They wander until there is nothing left of them.

  I hold my shirt tight to my face with my left hand and creep up to him.

  He turns and I swing wildly. He grabs at me but I jump back. His brown, decayed teeth are broken. His mouth is filled with a yellow, foamy paste. It's like his spit is almost gone dry. I gag and slice his throat. His hands grip my arms. I drop the shirt and grab the other blade from my pocket. I click the switch to make the blade pop out. His teeth bear down on me. I stab the blade in my left hand into his temple. His yellow eyes are wide and then he's down. I look at the thick, dark-brown blood on me. The greenish tint and the smell make me gag. I look at it and panic. I start wiping it off on his back frantically.

  "Water, do we have water? I need something to clean it off." My heart is in my throat. My breath is short and rough. My throat scratches. I've got it. I'm sick now too. My eyes fuzz out.

  Vincent walks up to me and tilts his head, "The breeder babies are immune. You were born immune. It's not the cure. You were given the vaccine."

  Anna ignores him and grabs the drinking water. She keeps her body back as she starts pouring it over me. I've ripped my shirt off and am scrubbing my skin. I know it’s too late. I'm infected. My
head is twitching, "No. No. I'm infected. Look at it. It probably got into my mouth. Anna stay back."

  Vincent shoulders past her and grabs my shoulders, shaking me, "You can't get it. You were made immune to it. You can't get sick. You can't even carry it."

  I look at him, "No. I was born a decade before the shit hit the fans. The germs mutated."

  He nods his head, "Yes! Your body is incredibly strong. You were made to live healthy. No cost to the government. The plan to reduce the population and make people sick was in place long before you were born."

  "Maybe but I can get her sick." I'm trying to take it all in. Immune. Leo would eat the infected. I would keep my distance and not share, but there had to have been times that he had some of them left on him.

  The sewers I've crawled in. The dead I've laid with.

  I've never been truly sick. Only hurt. I always heal—except when I left the breeder farms. I was badly hurt then. I think about it and still feel the pain. Dragging Anna and Sarah up the mountains, with the injuries I had, I should have died. So many times I should have died. There are a thousand times I should have died or been infected.

  Not to mention, I was a little kid living in the woods—I should have died from that. I guess he could be right. If he's right about everything else. Either way, I'm infected or I'm immune, only time will tell.

  I look at the slime on my hands and finish wiping it on the dead man's dirty clothes. Vincent passes me a clean shirt. I tug it on feeling the tears in my throat. All this time spent avoiding the infected, for what?

  Vincent grabs my arm and drags me down the alley. Anna takes the gun and walks ahead of us. We stagger and stumble through the alleys until we reach a tall building.

  "This is the end of the clean zone," he whispers.

  Anna gives me a look; she's concerned. I would be too, if I were her. There is a very real chance I will give her the infection, even though I'm keeping my distance.

  I look at Vincent and scowl. I'm still trying to digest the varieties of things he's handed down to me in knowledge and confusion.

  He scowls back at me, "From here on out, it's going to get much worse. The patrols stop here. The infected are bad inside of here."

  I feel the horror covering my face, "Worse?"

  He nods, "Us doctors and scientists don't go into this part of the city. We stay on the side where the guards are. We use this as a place to keep the infected for experiments. They live in the barricaded areas. Those ones behind us got through. It happens every now and then. That’s what those guards were for." He points to a small wall built up of boards and debris. It blocks the alley. I peek my head out of the alley to the right and then the left. There is no one. The streets are empty.

  He continues, "Your wolf is about eight blocks down. It's on the border of the city, almost the outskirts. You cross the bridge and get to an area that looks nice still. It used to be a medical research building. The name on the front of it is Luminarc. But the sign is old and decrepit. It says umina. U-M-I-N-A. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

  I watch his face and nod, "You're leaving us."

  He laughs, "Yeah. I'm not going in there. You'll be safe from the military in there. It's the infected, and possibly the others, that you'll need to worry about."

  I don’t know him, but I don’t want him to go back there. I grab his hand, in an act that is completely awkward for me, "I know where a retreat is. You can go there and just rest. The people will help you."

  He shakes his head, "I have to go back and help as much as I can. I'm one of the few on the inside, who are trying to stop it."

  I frown, "Why?"

  His leathery smile doesn’t reach his eyes, "I'm your dad's right-hand man. He doesn't know I'm not on his side."

  My eyebrows knit together, "You will go back there and live like this?" The words are awkward.

  He nods, "I have to. I'm the only hope for a lot of the women. The facility is quite nice."

  "I was there—it was a shit show."

  He shakes his head, "The building where you were being kept isn’t the facility. It's down the way, closer to the nice part of the city that’s still standing. My life there is nice. I'm supposed to be on a convoy this week. The rebels are making sure it's destroyed. I'll be the only survivor. I'm heading there now, opposite direction of where you're going."

  His eyes are so familiar and suddenly I see it, "You were the first doctor in the room with the cold table. The one who was nice to me?"

  He nods, "I was. I planned on getting you out, but I needed the abortion to be completed. I couldn’t release you into the world pregnant. I'm sorry."

  I swallow, "Why?" Anna draws nearer to me but I scowl at her, "Keep your distance. I have it on me. I need soap."

  She steps back as he ignores us and continues, "You already live with the possibility of being unstable. Your emotions are so heightened compared to normal girls. It's a problem with the DNA. You don't have normal emotions. You don’t feel things normally. Everything is bigger and faster in your world. We don’t know what someone like you would make. You have to try not to ever have a baby, Emma." He hangs his head, like he's ashamed.

  I didn’t have that as an option for myself, not in the world I lived in, but his words hurt me. I'm ashamed Anna has heard them. I'm a freak. How many times could he say the words not normal?

  I feel my anger rising, but I force myself to remain calm. A thousand flashes pass behind my eyes as I see it all. I nod, "Okay."

  He grabs my arms and squeezes, "You deserve to be free. Your father is a monster. Run and don't ever come back. Stay hidden away. Stay away from other people. You don’t know when your brain will switch and you'll become one of the Gen kids in every way. The rage and irrational behavior is a side effect. Your father doesn’t see it. He is constantly trying to perfect them, but he sees only the positives, he misses the negatives. I know you've proven you don’t have the irrational behavior, but you never know. Better to be safe."

  I almost twitch, thinking about the times I've done things he would call irrational. Would I though? I can justify every action in my mind. I am instantly wondering what Anna is thinking. I can't look at her.

  I need Leo.

  "How will you get back?" Anna asks him, changing the subject.

  He shakes his head, "Don't worry about me. Get to the wolf and get out. You're one of a kind, Emma. You should know that, at least. What you did back there with the infected and the gunmen—you're one of a kind. The other Gen kids are a disaster. I think you are what we had planned all along."

  I could spit on him. "I don’t care. I just wanna go home." That's not the truth. I want to stop my father who was my uncle. What a mess.

  I look both ways, because it's how I still cross streets, and walk across the broken filthy road. I can hear Anna following with the gun. The destroyed concrete crunches under the crappy boots he gave me. I'm exhausted and I haven’t even started yet. I climb the wall of crap on the side of the road and look into the street. The infected are not there. I expected hordes, but I don't see any.

  I look back at him. He waves. He looks desperate and beat down.

  I hate him. Him and everything he represents. "Stupid bastard," I mutter and pull my knives out. I glance at Anna who grins and tightens her grip on the gun.

  "I don’t care what he says; you're amazing, Em." She nudges me and starts down the hill of debris into the infected zone.

  "Thanks." I don’t feel amazing. I feel not normal. I guess I always have and now I have a reason to feel that way.

  Chapter Five

  The infected move fast. Not as fast as we can—thank god. The gun helps a lot. It, and the fact, Anna is a deadly shot. The ones that get close, as we race through the alley, get cut. I already have their blood on me.

  We entered the alley and didn't see any at first, but when we got in deeper, we could see them moving about. They never move when you're looking for them. Damned infected.

  Their infected blood scares
me still, but I assume I'm already sick if I can get it. We get to the end of the next alley. My thighs hurt from the running. Everything hurts. My body is weak from the little food I've eaten and the way I've laid around.

  I look behind at the horde of them running after us, the high moans are grating on my skin. Anna fires a shot, dropping one in front of us.

  I heave for breath and look around. I see a building with a smashed-in window.

  "Anna, here," I shout and run to it. I smash out the glass more and leap into the window. She is in and falling on me, before I can get out of the way.

  Before I can scream for her to get off of me and get away from the possible infection on my clothes, the stink hits my nose, filling my eyes with water.

  "Sweet God," Anna gags and covers her face.

  I can't ignore the stench of rotting flesh and possible sewage. The room is no doubt filed with germs. I don’t know how they work but the room is bad. There isn’t anything in here but office equipment but the smell must be coming from somewhere.

  I grab the bookcase at the side of the wall and tip it over. It slides across the window. My head is jerking and twitching as I gag and heave. Anna moves another shelf against the one I put there. I can taste the dead in the air.

  "Leo and then the forest," I whisper, trying to calm myself down.

  "I can't wait for the forest. I can't wait to go swimming," she mutters.

  I move a leather couch in front of the bookcase and run to the door of the office.

  She follows me. The hallway is dark. Instantly, I want to turn around but I can hear the infected at the window. Their high moans and screams make my skin crawl. The stench in the hallway is worse. I step out into the darkness. The only light is coming from the door I am leaving behind. I walk quickly into the abyss with my hands extended, running my blood-soaked knives along the wall. My left hand drops into a doorway. I lower my hand, searching for the knob. It's locked. I continue walking. My feet meet soft things and crunchy things, but I keep walking. I'm grateful for the dark and for her.

  "Thanks for coming for me," I whisper.