by Perrin Briar
Daniel stood up. After a moment of hesitation, Patrick stood up beside him.
“Get out of the way, Kate,” Daniel said.
“No,” Kate said, squaring her shoulders.
“Kate,” Hamish said, touching her on the shoulder. “It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not okay,” Kate said.
“He’s right,” Hamish said, putting a comforting hand on Kate’s shoulder. “I might have brought something here without knowing.”
“No,” Kate said, shaking her head. “I don’t believe that.”
“But you have to admit it is possible,” Hamish said. “If you were all alive and well and healthy before I arrived, and then something like this happened… It’s pretty clear what caused it. We should have thought of it sooner. I promise you all that I never brought anything here with me on purpose. I would never do anything like that. What do you suggest we do?”
“You’ll go to an empty room and stay there until we decide what to do,” Daniel said.
“We don’t need to do this,” Kate said, tears welling in her eyes.
Hamish cast around and noticed all the strong characters were gone, dead, infected, or all three. Jeff could have calmed them all down, as could Lindsey. Kate was not a calming force. She could only fan the flames.
“We were fine before you arrived,” Daniel said. “You were the one who did the blood tests. Maybe you even got them wrong. Maybe even on purpose. It’s you. You’re the one who’s been doing all this to us.”
“No,” Hamish said.
“You’re our Typhoid Mary,” Daniel said. “He could be infecting us all right now as we speak.”
There were small, unconscious movements among those present, as if the virus really was seeping from Hamish and emanating out like a poisoned aura.
“I’ll go to my room,” Hamish said.
“But you’re not even infected!” Kate said.
“No,” Hamish said. “But something on my person might be. I can’t put you in danger, not because of me.”
Kate stepped toward him, in defiance of the others’ fears, but Hamish stepped back. He loved her for that gesture, but he wouldn’t allow himself to be responsible for her getting locked up too. It would tear him apart.
“I’ll go,” Hamish said to Daniel.
He went into his room. It was cold and dark, his prison.
As Daniel brought the door closed, a sliver of light from the corridor lit his face, and for a moment Hamish thought he caught the very real, tangible tint of madness across Daniel’s features. The locks bolted home.
The storm roared. It sounded like laughter.
Z-MINUS: 1 hour 4 minutes
“Hamish?” Kate said, gently rapping on his door. “I know you’re in there. You don’t have to ignore me.”
Hamish didn’t respond to her.
“I know it’s not your fault we’re in this situation,” Kate said. “But they’re all afraid and don’t know you like I do. When help comes, they’ll realize everything you did, you did to help us.”
“Do you blame me for all that’s going on?” Hamish said.
“No,” Kate said. “Of course not. What possible reason could you have for wanting to infect everyone with some kind of virus? Daniel is angry. Patrick’s scared. When the storm ends, we can get out of here.”
“Do you remember when we used to play in the garden back home?” Hamish said. “I would be the knight, and you would be the princess, and I would come and rescue you from your tower.”
“Yes,” Kate said. “I remember.”
“Now it looks like it’s the other way round,” Hamish said. “I’m the one who needs rescuing. I’m the princess.”
“I always thought we were rescuing each other,” Kate said. “If I wasn’t there, you wouldn’t need to be there to rescue me. Keep your chin up.”
Kate turned quiet. Hamish wasn’t sure whether she’d left or just become silent. Time was a whirlpool, sucking him in and then spitting him out.
“Kate?” Hamish said out loud.
She might have still been beside the door. He didn’t know. He pressed his hand against it, like he was touching the softness of her skin. He closed his eyes and let out a breath. He’d failed her again. He was weak when he should have been strong – like Carl, who in the face of death still walked with his head held high. Hamish faced a far less dangerous foe, but it was equally scary. Himself and his own issues.
In many ways death was not as formidable an opponent as people often gave it credit. It always won, and afterwards your struggles were over. It was those who were left behind who were the real victims. It was not the same with personal issues. As hard as you might fight against them, they never really went away, and you became a victim of yourself. Those were by far the tougher opponents. But they were worth fighting. The prize was growth, a better you, and a happier life. In the grip of despair it was hard to picture something like that. That’s what made it a challenge, what made it worth pursuing.
Hamish sat down on his bed. The springs squeaked beneath him. How did he end up in this situation? Blamed for all those deaths and infected. What were their rescuers going to think? They would listen to Daniel, and the fact Hamish had so easily let himself get taken away would only add credence to his accusations. But in truth, that didn’t really concern him. There was no evidence of bad behavior because he hadn’t committed any. It was only what Kate thought of him that mattered.
Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.
The sound sent a shiver up Hamish’s spine and tingles across his skin. His mouth flopped open, a gasp escaping his lips. The undead had escaped again. And if Hamish had missed his guess, they had help in escaping, just as they had earlier. Undead Ian and Jeff hadn’t chewed their way out of the morgue drawer or their bedrooms. Someone had let them out.
And now they had been let out again.
But for what purpose? To infect the others. But why? What would that gain? And the person who let them out, why would he do that? Hamish didn’t know. But not knowing the answer did not constitute a good enough reason not to respond and alert the others to what was heading their way.
Hamish approached the door. He drew back his fist to pound on it, but didn’t. Letting an undead out of its cage did not mean it would automatically head toward your intended quarry. They were stupid. They might have gone the wrong way. Making a loud noise now would only draw them faster toward the communal area.
But he still needed to warn them, before the creatures descended and slaughtered them all. But how?
He turned and approached the small window. Snow turned the world deathly pale. He couldn’t even see the storm outside, but he could hear it, the howling wind and the stinging cold. The storm would be his salvation, as it had almost been his destruction.
He shook his head. This was a bad idea. But if he didn’t act soon, Kate and the others would be dead.
“Crap,” Hamish said.
He picked up the duvet blanket and wrapped a copy of the bible in it. He used it to beat against the glass. It was surprisingly strong. He hit the glass again, this time forming a crack. The sound was deadened by the blanket. The glass broke, and the cold snatched Hamish’s breath from him. The snow poured into the room, soaking his bed.
But none of that mattered. He had to get to Kate before it was too late. He poked the spiked shards around the edge of the window out with a curled finger and then laid the blanket on top of it. He put on a few extra layers of clothes and ducked out into the freezing night.
Z-MINUS: 52 minutes
The cold snatched the heat from Hamish’s body and enfolded him in ice. He wrapped the duvet around himself to keep some warmth as he jogged forward, the blanket flapping behind him like a cape. The wind howled in his ear, whispering tales that drew men and beasts to their deaths.
Hamish kept moving. He had no time for stories. The duvet grew heavy with water as it absorbed the wetness from the sleet that stung his exposed skin.
Hamish kept his hand on the b
uilding wall as he made his way around it. His extremities were immediately frozen. He couldn’t focus. The snow flurries and their drifts blinded him. If he was going to make it to the front entrance of the facility he was going to need to keep going. If he didn’t get there soon he was going to get frostbite.
His fingers and hands were already frozen lumps. They stung, like pins and needles all over his skin. He couldn’t even feel the wall anymore to keep track of where he was heading, but he could see his fingertips running over its surface.
The snow was a high mound around the center’s base. He couldn’t keep walking through it. Instead, he got down on his belly and crawled across the surface. He weighed up the cost of keeping the duvet versus the amount it slowed him down. He let it go. It slithered over his body like a snake’s old skin, and was stolen by the storm. He pressed through the snow, throwing his arms and legs forward one after the other.
He edged around the corner. Just a little farther and he would be at the main entrance. His body shuddered with the cold. He wouldn’t last much longer. He was a block of ice. His joints were seizing up and it was difficult to keep moving. He thought he heard them creak.
The snow bed beneath him didn’t feel cold anymore. It felt soft and warm. He could have just put his head down and rested, relaxed, and it would all be over. Then he knew he should start worrying.
His clothes dug into his skin. They had grown hard and rigid, like they’d been over-starched. But he kept going, kept moving his legs. He couldn’t stop. Flakes of snow settled on his eyelashes, and his eyes began to freeze shut.
His breath misted in front of his face in great feathery plumes. He turned another corner. It was getting harder, tougher, to keep going. He forced one limb in front of the other.
He entered a pool of light cast from the communal kitchen. There were no screams yet, not that Hamish could hear clearly with the howling winds. That didn’t mean there hadn’t been some and they were now all dead.
Hamish would die too, as slow and cumbersome as he was. So why struggle? Why not give up and let what was going to happen, happen? He wasn’t going to be much use in protecting Kate but perhaps he could give her a little extra warning. It could make all the difference.
The main entrance loomed large before him. He looked up at it. It was a large white monolith. He stretched up to reach the door handle. His fingertips met it, but he couldn’t wrap them around it. It was too far.
Hamish grunted as he forced his arms underneath himself. Was this what it was like to be undead? To have your joints be stiff and unresponsive and unable to do what you wanted them to?
He grunted and pushed with all his power onto his arms, and leveraged himself up into a sitting position.
Was it still unlocked from when Carl had gone to his death? Why hadn’t he thought of it before? What would he do if the door was locked?
He reached for the door handle, to seize it. His arm was bent at the elbow, unable to flex out straight completely. He gripped the handle. He pulled down on it. The door flew open on a strong gust of wind and banged against the opposite wall.
Hamish crawled inside, body shuddering and in pain. Kate and Patrick turned to look at him. They were huddled together, backing away against the communal kitchen counter, clutching blunt weapons in their hands. Fear painted their faces.
Hamish realized what he looked like…
Stiff and lacking motor control, he was frozen and ungainly. At a casual glance he would look like one of the undead. Patrick stepped toward Hamish, drawing his weapon back to strike him.
“No!” Kate said. “It’s Hamish! He’s not infected!”
Patrick hesitated, not taking his eyes off Hamish. He stared him in the eye, very much looking like he wanted to swing his cudgel anyway. He didn’t lower his weapon, but turned to face the undead ambling toward him.
Undead Ian and Lindsey stood glaring down at Daniel, who was curled up on the floor. They fell upon him, holding him down and sniffing him all over. They grunted, got back up on their feet, and turned to face the others.
“Get in here quick!” Kate said to Hamish.
Hamish struggled to his feet, half-crawling, half-walking toward them. So much for his early warning.
“What were you doing outside?” Kate said to Hamish. “We thought you were in your room!”
“I… had… had to… warn you…” Hamish said, teeth chattering.
He felt stupid for what he was saying. Clearly they had coped well enough without him. He’d only ended up risking their lives further.
“We have to… attack them,” Hamish said. “There’s no other… way of keeping us… safe.”
Patrick looked into the eyes of the two men and one woman he’d once considered not only colleagues, but friends. But they weren’t his friends anymore, weren’t his colleagues. They were monsters.
He opened his eyes and roared. The bellow helped. He brought the rolling pin down on Jeff’s head. It knocked Jeff forward, but didn’t cave in his skull. It wasn’t until the second and third strikes that skull fragments spilled across the floor.
Kate roared as she took on Ian, spilling his teeth. The skin from Lindsey’s face had been peeled back, her stomach left hanging and severed. Kate and Patrick teamed up, beating the hapless creature to a pulp.
Daniel was on the other side of the room. He got to his feet. Everyone was panting for air, recovering from their exertions. With Daniel standing on the opposite side of the room there was a clear divide.
“Good job,” Daniel said. “For a second there I thought they had us.”
“They did have you,” Kate said. “Why didn’t they attack you?”
Daniel shrugged.
“I must not be to their liking,” he said.
“No,” Kate said. “You’re going to have to do better than that. Why didn’t they bite you?”
Daniel’s eyes met each of the others in turn. He focused them on Kate.
“Why do you think?” he said. “Go on. You’re a smart girl.”
“Because you’re infected,” Kate said.
The expression on Daniel’s face changed then, from the friendly face they all knew to a pointed maniacal grin. He spread his arms wide and took a bow.
“Well done,” Daniel said. “Yes, I’m infected.”
“But I did the blood test…” Hamish said. “You can’t possibly be infected. Unless… No…”
Hamish felt weak, like he was going to collapse.
“Go on,” Daniel said.
“You created a distraction,” Hamish said. “You let Jeff out of his room. Then you switched the labels so it looked like Carl was infected…”
“Very good,” Daniel said. “More astute than I gave you credit for. Yes, I switched the vials and let the moron Carl march out to his death. If he didn’t have the heart to survive, then its best he did kill himself.”
“You bastard!” Patrick said.
He sprang forward and swung for Daniel, but Daniel was too fast, and dodged, putting himself in front of the door.
“You opened the doors,” Hamish said to Daniel. “You let them out.”
“Of course I let them out,” Daniel said.
“Why?” Kate said. “I don’t understand.”
“None of you understand,” Daniel said. “You don’t have the intelligence. Nor the ability to see the breadth and scope of what I was trying to achieve.”
“It’s because of you Carl is dead?” Patrick said.
“An unfortunate sacrifice, but a necessary one,” Daniel said. “As you will all be.”
“What do you mean?” Kate said, voice trembling.
“You’re infected,” Daniel said, his grin wide and victorious. “Welcome to my world.”
“No…” Kate said.
“You’re lying!” Patrick said.
“Am I?” Daniel said. “Feel yourselves, let yourselves sense your body. You’ll know I’m telling the truth.”
“If we were infected, the undead wouldn’t have attac
ked us,” Kate said.
“Even an undead can tell the difference between rotten food and fresh food,” Daniel said.
Patrick dropped the rolling pin. He wrapped his arms around his stomach. Tears shimmered in Kate’s eyes.
“We’re all infected?” Kate said.
“Not all of you,” Daniel said with a glance at Hamish. “How will you cope with him as the only person not infected, I wonder?”
“How?” Kate said.
“By adding my blood to your coffee, of course,” Daniel said.
“Why?” Kate said in a desperate plea that struck Hamish to the bone. “Why are you doing this?”
“Because the world turns,” Daniel said.
He turned and ran into the storm, lost in its wintry embrace. Patrick drew the door closed and bolted it shut.
“Now what do we do?” Patrick said.
“I don’t know,” Kate said. Then, more forlorn and broken: “I don’t know.”
Z-MINUS: 41 minutes
The survivors scrubbed at their skin as if it would cleanse them on the inside too. Though outside it howled like it was the end of the world, the survivors felt strangely at peace, protected in their private enclave.
The revelation of Daniel’s betrayal, though not fully explained or understood, went some way to soothing their broken spirits. But they were not entirely at ease. It was visible in the way they jumped when something banged outside, expecting it to be Daniel with a tool of destruction.
But Hamish knew Daniel wouldn’t attack them like that. The look in his eye when he’d run outside into the freezing cold, into the arms of death, was not the look of a sane man. He wouldn’t come back. It was too easy. He would come up with some other way of getting back at them, if he was still alive.
People like Daniel never died easy, not when there was a harder way, and there always was. It was because they believed they had purpose. They knew what they wanted, what they needed to achieve, and they didn’t stop until they got it. It gave them superhuman drive.