“Uhm, no,” she mutters. “We’re just friends.”
“Hmm,” Pennie just says, a tiny, knowing smile at the corner of her mouth.
Selina clears her throat and quickly changes the subject. “Why does he have a fever? I mean, what caused it?”
“The doctor said it’s probably just from the shock. But he might also have some mild infection, because of the wounds on his leg, so they’re running some tests just to be sure, and they put him on antibiotics.”
“Did they say anything about when they’ll have the results of the tests?”
Pennie squeezes her arm. “Don’t worry about him, dear. He’ll soon be on his feet again. My Jonas is a strong boy. He’s always been.”
Selina struggles to smile back. “I’m just … scared for him.”
“There’s no need to be. The doctor said nothing serious is wrong with him.”
“What about the scratch marks?”
“They’ve been disinfected, and …” Pennie frowns as she looks down at her son’s leg. “Goodness, he’s really turning red.” She walks around the bed and puts her hand on Jonas’s leg. “My God, he’s burning up. I felt him just ten minutes ago and he was fine.”
Jonas gives off a grunt. It sounds like his breathing is becoming more and more troubled. Selina feels her heart beat faster, as she looks at Pennie, who just stares at her son’s face.
“Do you think we ought to call someone?” Selina asks finally.
Pennie nods without taking her eyes off her son. “Will you stay here with him?”
“Sure.”
Jonas’s mom leaves the room, leaving the door ajar.
Selina goes to the bed and carefully lifts up the bandage. The scratches are scarlet, oozing and swollen. The skin around them has taken on a sickly greenish hue. Selina lets out a whimper of despair. She has kept a small secret hope up until this point that Jonas perhaps was not infected after all. That hope dies in this moment.
Then Jonas suddenly begins twitching all over. It looks like tiny cramps going through his limbs. His neck is bent violently backwards, causing him almost to lift himself into a bridge, his clenched teeth are bared in a silent sneer and the veins pop out on both sides of his throat like thick cords. Still, he doesn’t wake up, and Selina realizes he’s way beyond waking.
She backs away, both hands in front of her mouth. No, no, no! Not now! Not already …
FIFTEEN
Do something!
Selina has been standing there, staring at the bed, for what feels like an eternity spanning a few seconds, when the thought comes through. Jonas’s tremors have almost passed, and he has once again sunk back down onto his back.
“Jonas?” she croaks. “Can you hear me?”
No reaction whatsoever.
She tries shaking him gently. Not as much as a flicker of an eyelid. His breathing is a lot more shallow now. He looks like someone in a coma.
It’s a matter of minutes …
Selina goes to the door to lock it but finds no lock. She looks around the room for something to bar the door with, but finds nothing heavy enough.
Need to get him out of here.
But how? She can’t lift Jonas, and he’s not able to walk on his own. Then, she sees it. Parked in the corner is a wheelchair. Selina grabs it and rolls it to the side of the bed. She pulls the blanket off Jonas and starts maneuvering his legs out of the side of the bed. It’s not easy, and it requires all her strength, but she manages to get him into the wheelchair.
Suddenly, she hears voices from the hallway.
“… burning hot. I’ve never felt anything like it.”
“I’ll take a look at him.”
Selina thinks fast. She pushes the wheelchair with Jonas out into the bathroom and closes the door behind her half a second before Pennie and a doctor enter the room.
“What the heck?” Jonas’s mom exclaims. “Where is he?”
Selina stares at the bathroom door, her heart pounding. What was she thinking? She’s trapped. Any moment one of them will open the door and find her. Then, out of nowhere, an idea occurs to her. Before she can think about it, she flushes the toilet and goes to open the door.
Pennie and an elderly male doctor are standing by the bed, both of them turning as they hear her. Selina makes sure to close the door quickly behind herself.
“There you are!” Pennie says, her eyes wide. “Where’s Jonas?”
Selina looks at the empty bed, trying to conjure up a look of surprise, but feeling absolutely transparent. “I … don’t know. I was just in the bathroom for two minutes.”
“He probably felt better and went for a stroll,” the doctor suggests.
“Or he’s wandered off in a delirious state!” Pennie exclaims, turning to Selina. “Why didn’t you keep an eye on him like you promised?”
Selina shrinks. “Sorry … I really needed to pee.”
“I want him found—right now!” Pennie demands, looking at the doctor again. “He’s definitely not well, and I can’t bear to think what might happen if he’s wandering about all confused …”
The two of them leave the room. Selina stays behind unnoticed. She waits for a couple of seconds, then goes to the bathroom, pushes Jonas back out and checks the hallway to make sure the coast is clear. It is.
Selina rolls Jonas down to the elevator, trotting fast and looking in every direction. She can’t believe she’s really doing this. It’s like her body is acting on its own. She almost feels dizzy.
An old man comes out from a room just as Selina passes it, and she almost gives off a scream. But the man is a patient and looks very fragile. He hardly looks up as he shuffles past her.
Selina rolls on, reaches the elevator and pounds the button. The doors open right away. It’s empty. She rolls Jonas inside and stares at the row of buttons. Where will she take him? What is the plan? She hadn’t really expected to come this far. If she brings him out of the hospital, they’ll soon attract attention. And where would she go? No, she can’t leave the building. She just needs to find somewhere without any people.
She pushes the lower most button. The doors close and the elevator takes them down through the building.
Selina wipes sweat from her eye and looks at Jonas. His chin is resting on his chest. He’s still breathing, but very faintly so.
The elevator stops and the doors open.
The basement hallway is empty in both directions. Against the wall is standing a row of unused beds and wheelchairs. Selina pushes Jonas aimlessly down the hallway. She passes a door and stops to check it. It’s a broom closet. She tries the next one. That one’s locked. The third door is the lucky one: it’s a tiny room with a lot of shelves filled up with all kinds of tools. And the door has an inside lock.
Selina pushes Jonas inside and checks one last time that no one is around to see her—there isn’t—and then she closes the door and locks it. As her fingers turn the lock, she gets a moment of strange clarity.
She realizes without a shadow of a doubt that the next time her fingers will touch this lock, those fingers will have done something absolutely horrible, something she’ll probably never forgive herself for.
And even if Selina lives to be a hundred, the next few minutes will be the worst minutes of her life.
SIXTEEN
She spends ten minutes preparing herself. She knows it’s exactly ten minutes, because she keeps checking her watch. As though that would somehow help her. Like she’s hoping time will suddenly jump ahead an hour and all of this will be in the past.
It doesn’t work like that, of course. She needs to go through with it. She needs to act.
Jonas’s breathing has become less and less audible until the point where she’s not sure whether it’s still there. He hasn’t moved at all. He’s obviously far away, like in a coma maybe.
Still, she decides to pull out her shoelaces and use them to tie his wrists to the wheelchair. Just in case.
Her gaze has reluctantly started scanning the shelve
s. They’re full of tools and equipment. Full of possibilities. Like fate decided to put her in exactly this room.
There are hammers, crowbars, screwdrivers, even a saw, not to mention a wide variety of electrical instruments. She can make this like something out of a movie. She can make it exactly as dramatic as she wants.
But Selina doesn’t want it to be dramatic. She just wants to get it done as easy and painless as possible. She decides on a box cutter on the lowest shelf.
Her legs shake as she goes to take it. She fumbles a little with it before she manages to push out the blade. It’s brand new and very sharp. She glances at Jonas’s wrists. She might even be able to make it look like suicide. If she gets it done quickly and makes sure to be far away from the hospital once they find Jonas, they’ll probably think that he—
Selina bursts abruptly into tears. What is she thinking? It’s Jonas. She’s going to kill him. And she’s worried about what will happen to herself. How selfish can a person be?
“I’m so sorry,” she whispers, sniffing, as she steps carefully closer. “I’m sorry, Jonas. But I have to do it.”
She reaches out her hand—the one not holding the knife—and strokes his cheek. It’s no longer warm. In fact, it’s pretty cold.
“It was nice of you to bring the purse. I wish you hadn’t, though.”
She almost begins crying again, and she pulls back her hand. She doesn’t know what else to say. A prayer? That doesn’t seem right. She’s not religious and she doubts Jonas is.
Do it then.
She gingerly turns Jonas’s palm so it faces the ceiling, exposing the thin blue veins in his wrist—it’s not easy because of the laces, but she manages.
He’s already dead, she tells herself and closes her eyes. He’s already dead. He’s already dead.
The sentence becomes a monotone chant in her head. She focuses on it hard, shutting out all other thoughts. She needs to open her eyes in order to see what she’s doing. Her hand shakes so much she can barely steer the point of the knife, and she has to grip it with both hands to get it to land on the soft skin of Jonas’s wrist. The blade pushes the skin down a few millimeters.
All right, just a slight push and then pull down.
Selina stares at the knife, but it doesn’t move. Her arms are trembling violently. Her body is fighting back. It won’t obey.
Come on. He’s already dead. He’s already dead!
But the mantra doesn’t work anymore. The thought of Jonas’s blood about to burst out of his wrist is too much. She can’t do it. She can’t kill him. Not like this. Not with his sleeping face right in front of her.
She removes the knife, drops it on the floor and lets out a small scream of despair. She grabs her hair and looks up into the ceiling. She feels like vomiting. The temperature in the cramped room swings between frosty and stifling hot. Everything spins around. Selina realizes she’s about to faint. In a few seconds she will—
Then a noise cuts through.
Selina stares at Jonas. He’s still sitting in the same posture. But his neck is doing tiny twitches. His breath is audible again, although very faint and raspy.
It’s happening!
Selina is gripped by panic. She turns to the shelves, goes through them frantically, searching for something, anything she can use, just not something that will make it bloody. She pushes stuff to the floor, it’s all either for cutting, stabbing or bludgeoning, and she can’t do any of those things to Jonas, she just can’t, but she—
Then she sees it. The solution. It’s been right in front of her the whole time. She just dismissed it. It’s a plastic bag full of nuts and bolts.
She grabs it and empties it on the floor. Then she goes to Jonas, gets behind him and—before she has time to think—resolutely pulls the bag over his head and tightens it firmly.
Jonas’s breathing quickly becomes even more strained. The bag is expanding and contracting in small, rapid thrusts, the inside soon fogged up and the plastic starts to cling to his hair. Strong tremors go through his body.
“Sorry!” Selina tells him and starts bawling loudly. “I’m sorry, Jonas, I’m sorry!”
She grips the bag as firmly as she can, pulling it shut around his neck with all her strength. She cries and apologizes and strangles. She doesn’t know for how long. Maybe a minute. Maybe three. But suddenly, finally, Jonas is no longer twitching, and he’s no longer breathing.
Selina sobs and keeps clutching the bag tightly. She needs to be absolutely sure, so she counts to a hundred. When she’s positive that it’s done, that Jonas is really dead, she lets go of the bag and staggers away until she hits the wall. Her legs give way and she slumps to the floor. She begins crying again, but this time she also cries from relief.
It’s over. You did it. You saved the world.
The thought bears little comfort.
SEVENTEEN
Something vibrates somewhere close by.
Selina sniffs and takes a few deep breaths. It’s probably her dad. But she can’t talk with him right now. She can’t talk with anyone. Yet she pulls out her phone.
It’s Dan.
Selina answers and says hoarsely: “I did it.”
A bated breath on the other end. Then: “How?”
“I strangled him with a plastic bag.” Selina can’t really understand the words coming out of her mouth. It has to be someone else speaking. Another Selina in another reality. A reality where that Selina just killed another Jonas.
“You sure he’s dead?” Dan asks gingerly.
“I’m sure.”
“So he didn’t turn before you did it? I mean, he was still alive?”
“Yes.”
“Okay.” Dan lets out a long sigh of relief. “Good job.”
Good job, Selina’s mind echoes. Like she passed a test in school.
“Did you ... get any scratches? I mean, I imagine he must have struggled. I think he could have infected you even though he wasn’t dead yet.”
“I didn’t get any scratches.”
“Was anyone else near him? You think anyone could have touched him?”
“There are no others.”
“We just need to make sure that—”
“Listen to me, Dan. Jonas didn’t infect anyone else. He was already halfway in a coma when I came to the hospital.” She looks at Jonas while she talks. His head, which is still in the bag, has slumped to the side. Luckily, she can’t see his face from this angle.
Dan is quiet for some time. “Okay,” he mutters. “I guess it’s over then.”
“It is.”
Selina is about to disconnect, when Dan goes on: “I just got this … I don’t know, it keeps bothering me. I feel like we overlooked something.”
Selina sighs. “Like what?”
“I don’t know. Maybe I’m just paranoid, but … I’ve been here before, you know. Where we thought everything was over. And then I remembered my sister …” Dan interrupts himself.
“I think you’re just paranoid.”
“Maybe you’re right. How about you? How are you feeling?”
“How do you think I’m feeling?”
“Terrible.”
“Bingo.”
“I’m sure the police will understand. I don’t think you’ll go to jail or anything.”
“Dan, I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Sure, I understand.”
More silence.
“Bye,” Selina says.
“Bye,” Dan says.
Selina puts the phone back in her pocket. She slowly gets to her feet. Makes sure not to look at Jonas as she passes by him. But as she stops by the door, she can’t help but look back one last time.
Now she can see his face. His eyes are closed. The bag is full of moisture, and the droplets are clinging to his face like tears. His mouth is open.
Selina squeezes her lips together. She can’t leave him like this, she just can’t. Tied down and like an animal. She goes back and is just about to untie the laces, but
then hesitates.
No. This is always how it happens in the movies. That final, stupid mistake.
She doesn’t believe Jonas will reawaken. She’s sure he really is dead. But she still can’t bring herself to untie him. Her instincts tell her not to.
At least the bag, then. Just so he doesn’t get found like this.
Selina carefully grips one corner of the bag with two fingers and lifts it up. It sticks a little to his head, so for a brief second his face is hidden from view. When the bag comes off and she can once again see his eyes, they are open.
Selina freezes in the middle of the movement. She’s too shocked to react; she just stares dumbly into Jonas’s irises, which are no longer blue, but milky white, as her exhausted brain struggles to understand what she sees.
She has no time to pull back when Jonas opens his mouth with a primal grunt, lunges forward and bites down over her fingers.
At first, Selina’s scream is pure surprise. But as Jonas bites down even harder and she hears the bones in her fingers splinter, the scream changes to one of pain.
EIGHTEEN
Dan puts down his phone and lies back down onto his bed.
It’s over. It’s finally over. This time, it’s for real.
He sighs deeply. It’s just past nine o’clock, and he has now officially been awake for thirty-seven hours. That’s a whole workweek. And it feels like it, too. His eyes are stinging, his muscles aching with exhaustion.
He has been through more these past two days than most soldiers go through on an entire tour to Iraq. That’s what the psychologist told him, anyway.
But now it’s over.
But then why can’t he believe that?
Something bothers him. A small thing he overlooked. He’s been over the events again and again in his mind. Played the film back and forth. He just can’t see what detail escapes him.
Perhaps there’s nothing there. Perhaps his brain is still just running in overdrive. He’d probably better get some sleep. There’s nothing more he can do now anyway.
He turns over and shuts his eyes.
Dead Meat (Book 2): Dead Meat [Day 2] Page 6