Zombie Patrol (Walking Plague Trilogy #1)

by J. R. Rain

  But my brother gave me a genuine smile. “I’m really thirsty. And hungry.”

  “So, you remember what happened?”

  “Yeah. I was angry, confused. I’m sorry I fought with you. I was so...”

  “It was like this rage seized me,” Mike chimed in. “I couldn’t control myself. I don’t blame you. I was at your daughter’s room.” This was true. He knew enough that he had to address it if he was going to get out of here. “I apologize, sir. You took me into your home when I was sick. Not many people would have done that.”

  “I have to protect her. Myself. Maybe both of you, too. I might still have to—”

  “I know, Jack,” my brother said. “I probably would have done the same. You probably saved us. Has anyone been looking for us?”

  “Yes. You’re both wanted. By the military and local police.

  You’re AWOL,” I said. “And considered armed and dangerous.”

  This quieted both men. I needed to think this through. Joe did look better. Maybe too good, for what he’d been through. He saw me looking at him.

  “Jack, I swear we’re better.” His speech was a little animated, maybe because he wanted those cuffs off. Water, food, a shower. I could understand that. But...

  “Let me get you some water, and then we’ll talk.”

  “You’re not going to let us out of here?”

  “Shit, Joey. I want to. You don’t know how hard it was to put you down here.”

  “Okay, okay. Water would be great.”

  “I’ll be right back.”

  I didn’t want to keep Anna waiting. I rounded the corner to the stairwell and found her and Jared huddled next to each other halfway down the stairs.

  “What the hell are you doing here?”

  “Sorry, I just had to listen. Don’t blame Jared.”

  I exploded. “Anna, this is no game. Get the hell upstairs. Now! Both of you!” I felt more anger than I had in quite a long time.

  I grabbed the key that Jared held. Anna knew she’d pushed my limit and quickly back-pedaled up the stairs. I followed them up into my room. I could feel my cheeks flush with anger as I crossed the room without a glance at either of them and slammed the door shut. I locked it.

  I shoved down the guilt of locking my daughter and her boyfriend in a room. Desperate times call for desperate measures, I thought wildly. I moved quickly back down the stairs. In the kitchen, I grabbed two glasses out of the dishwasher, thought about it, and then exchanged them for plastic cups. No use giving anyone a weapon.

  In that moment, as I filled the red Solo cups under the faucet, my hands started shaking and I felt sick, so sick. I poured out the filled cups, watching the water swirl down the drain. The pressure of the day—my sick brother, the government agents, the yelling at my daughter—it all came crashing down on me.

  I pounded my fist on the tile counter. Let the damn tears come. It wasn’t as if I could stop them anyway. I turned around and faced the door that led to my imprisoned brother and another man I didn’t know from Adam. What was wrong with me? I couldn’t control myself. Couldn’t control the emotions. Couldn’t control the anger.

  I knocked the cups into the sink and slid down, my back to the cabinets. I sat there in anguish, the waterworks rushing from me now. Was I going crazy myself? I had handcuffed infected people in my cellar, and had locked up my daughter with a horny fifteen-year-old boy who was crazy about her. What could be more insane?

  Just a few days ago, the world had been normal. Life had been good. Balanced. I didn’t know if I could handle this.

  So, a pent-up volcano of misery, I sat there with my legs stuck straight out and erupted. The cork on my uncontrollable emotions popped. Emotions that I hadn’t let myself feel in years, decades even, spewed out. Some hero I was. Not.

  I wept for the loss and the horror of the infected, and I raged for those who tried to help them and then, I screamed for those who tried to kill them. I sobbed and shouted until my throat was scorched from screaming my anguish, and from eyes that felt like they had sand thrown in them. Tears salted my gritty neck for the first time in decades. I was crying so hard that the pots and pans rattled in the kitchen cabinet against my back.

  And that’s how Carla found me.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Carla grabbed a roll of paper towels off the counter and sat beside me, cross-legged.

  I chided myself for not hearing her enter through the back door; at the same time, I didn’t really care. It was Carla. Safe. A friend. She was the only friend I’d confided in. And she just waited, like friends do.

  It was strange how I really didn’t care that she watched me cry. I usually kept up the macho façade that men tend to muster up around women. But I was so tired that I just didn’t care.

  A few minutes passed and my sobbing lost steam, as if the supply of tears had been exhausted and as if the volcano inside me was quieted, except for the occasional shuddering rumble of breath. I took the paper towels from her and cleaned myself up. I gathered what rational thoughts I could and faced her. “They seem to be recovering.”

  “Really.” No judgment, just a statement. Her eyes were concerned, but serene.

  “Yeah. I’m supposed to give them some water. They didn’t want water before.”

  “And Anna?” Carla was cool, logical.

  “I locked her up in my bedroom. She disobeyed my orders to stay away from them.”

  Carla nodded. “So, we give them some water.”

  “I suppose so.”

  “Tell you what. Get them water...and Carter?” She took the hand that wasn’t holding my gun. Her other hand turned my face toward her. “It’s a lot—them, your daughter, the boyfriend, the agents—it’s okay to let it out sometimes.”

  I nodded, and I might have fallen in love with her a little more right then and there. “Thank you.”

  “But let’s be smart. Yes, he’s your brother, but this situation is so damn unusual. Hell, it’s unprecedented. All the more reason to keep our heads and our wits about us.”

  Thank God for Carla. She was always there when I needed her most. “Right.”

  She rose and gave me a hand up. I didn’t mind that she was the strong one in this moment.

  I again filled the red plastic cups with water. We crossed the short distance to the cellar door.

  Carla drew her own gun. “It might be better if I was the heavy,” she observed. “Put your gun away. I’ll stay back, but I’ll have you covered.”

  Good cop. Bad cop. She was smart.

  My hands were occupied with water cups so she opened the door for me and we went down to my captives.

  * * *

  Joe and Mike smiled in relief when they saw me. They were a little wary of Carla, but they weren’t calling the shots.

  Carla was professional, fierce. “Joe, Mike. Do you mind moving back a little?”

  I tried to be nice. “I’ll set down the water for you.”

  Mike complied without hesitation. Joe looked hurt, but he submitted as well. They backed away to the far side of the beams that held them captive. I set down the cups. I backed away and moved next to Carla. “Go ahead.”

  Both moved forward and drained the cups in an instant.

  “More?” I asked.

  Joe was ravenously thirsty, I could tell. “Please.”

  “Go,” Carla said. “I’ll stay.”

  I returned with refilled cups. They drank. I didn’t want them to overdo it, but they were seriously dehydrated. Already my brother Joey looked stronger, and so did Mike.

  “Thank you.” Joe’s face portrayed sincere gratitude, except—dammit—except that his eyes briefly flared red. Shit.

  “Still feeling better?” I asked. Carla was calm, collected. I was glad she was with me.

  “Yeah,” Joe answered.

  Carla caught my attention and jerked her head up to the kitchen.

  “Hang on, Joey,” I said. “I’ll bring you some food.”

  I turned my back
on them and followed Carla up into the kitchen. I shut the door to the basement as Carla leaned a hip against the counter. A nice, curvy hip.

  “They do look better,” said Carla. “But their eyes, Carter. I don’t think it’s over.”

  “You’re right,” I conceded. “How about we first get Joe out? He’s my brother. I know I can reason with him.”

  “What if there’s no reasoning with him?”

  “Then I’ll put him back down there.”

  I waited for Carla to think it through. “All right,” she agreed, “Let me listen. Just for perspective.”

  “I’ll question him,” I said. “Maybe he knows something else, or not. I won’t know until I can talk to him.”

  Carla nodded and I saw the genuine concern in her eyes, and perhaps I saw something else. Love? Whatever it was, I hadn’t had a woman look at me like that for a very long time. I reached out and brushed my hand along her cheek. “Thank you for coming.”

  Carla kissed me lightly, then hugged me tight. That hug gave me the strength I needed.

  * * *

  I leaned back in the patio chair and watched my brother eat the oatmeal I’d made for him. Seated a short distance away, Carla appeared relaxed. She had her cop shades on. Behind her nonchalant pose, I knew she was scrutinizing Joe’s every movement. I didn’t blame her.

  “How is it?” I asked.

  He looked from me to Carla, then back to me. He knew he was being studied like a rat in a cage. I didn’t care if he knew. My brother might have contracted something freaky, and we weren’t going to take any chances. Period.

  He said, “Honestly? It tastes okay, but I’d rather have a steak.”

  “Maybe you’re anemic,” I said. What I didn’t say was: Maybe that goddamned space rock screwed you up.

  “Maybe.” He kept eating, but without enthusiasm. I got the feeling that he was trying to please me. “So...Mike and I...we’re not an isolated event?”

  “No.” I had briefed him on what Anna had gleaned from the internet. He had listened quietly, impassively. I had expected a different reaction from someone who had just learned that he might soon be going crazy and start eating other human beings. Instead, he took the news in stride. Too much in stride, I thought.

  “Are the others getting better?”

  “Some.”

  He looked at me. “Do you think I’m getting better?”

  I did my best to hide my breaking heart. “Joey, you do look better. But your eyes...”

  He shook his head excitedly. “Jack, all my senses are heightened. I can see better than before. I hear everything. There’s a cat on the other side of your garden wall. A hummingbird is two houses over. Anna and Jared are talking quietly. I can’t understand what they’re saying, but I know you don’t hear them at all. Do you?”

  “No, I don’t.” I turned my head, slightly curious about the cat. I also turned my head because I didn’t want to look at my kid brother. “How’s your mind, Joey? You were delusional. You were also vicious.”

  “I know, and I’m sorry.”

  “And now? I mean, I need to know how you really feel.” I tapped my head.

  He considered my question, his eyes flashing briefly red. Eyes shouldn’t look like that. And my brother shouldn’t be hearing a goddamn hummingbird two houses down either.

  Jesus Christ.

  For a moment, I didn’t think he was going to answer me. He glanced briefly at Carla and hesitated, and I suddenly understood his apprehension. He didn’t feel comfortable speaking freely. Maybe if Carla hadn’t been there, he would have told the truth. He might have told me about the insatiable hunger...

  Might have.

  Perhaps if he had, things might have turned out differently. Perhaps. I’ll never know. One tiny thing like Carla’s presence, which had been well-intended, might have have possibly turned the giant tide.

  But she was there, and I didn’t even know about the enormous tide yet, and it might not have mattered anyway.

  I guess my brother was as honest as he could be. “I don’t feel anger or irritation, Jack. But I do feel more alive than I ever have in my entire life. I feel really strong, too. You know? Stronger than before. It’s weird.”

  Now I studied him. His color was back to normal. Yes, he did have a healthy glow. The only trace of illness left now was in his eyes. His red eyes. No, they weren’t completely red. The whites were still white. It was his irises. Once a dark green, they were now streaked with red, as if he was wearing some crazy Halloween costume contact lenses. His eyes gave me the damn creeps. God, I really hoped he was better.

  “And,” he continued, “like I said. I’m really hungry. Starving. And the oatmeal just ain’t doing it for me, bro.”

  “Do you feel like you’re better? Be honest.”

  Again, he hesitated. He was trying, I knew that now. “I think so.”

  I waited. I wish now that I’d known what he was really thinking. It could have made a difference.

  “The truth is,” he added. “I’m not a hundred percent sure, Jack. Maybe I’ll feel better if I can, you know, eat some more.”

  I considered what I had to say. Again, if Carla hadn’t been there, I might not have been able to have the courage to say to my own brother what I was about to say. “Joe. You know I love you.”

  “Ditto, bro.” His smile was bittersweet.

  I said, “If you’re really thinking straight, then I hope you understand that I think we need to give this a little more time, you know?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I want you to wait this out in the cellar.”

  He drew a deep breath.

  I tensed.

  So did Carla. Her hand was resting loosely on the butt of her pistol.

  Joe let out his air. “Okay, yes. I do understand. I’ll go back down there. Can you just leave the light on this time? It doesn’t hurt our eyes so much.”

  I gave his arm a squeeze. “Of course.”

  There didn’t seem to be anything else to say. My brother looked out the kitchen window, taking in the morning blue sky as if for the last time.

  * * *

  In the cellar, I gave him a hug before I cuffed him again. Mike was quiet. No doubt, he was waiting for me to leave so he could talk to his cellmate.

  I left the light on, as requested. I felt guilty as hell cuffing my brother down here again. But I would have felt worse if he’d hurt himself or someone I loved. I debated, and then turned and asked him, “How do you want your steak?”

  His answer was immediate, and as he spoke his pupils flared brightly red. “Rare.”

  My brother, of course, had never ordered his steaks rare. I should know. We’d barbequed enough times together. He always ordered them, in fact, medium-well.

  “Rare?” I repeated.

  Next to him, Mike nodded as well, his eyes equally red.

  Joe said, “Rare. Very, very rare.”

  Chapter Twenty-four

  When I unlocked my bedroom door shortly thereafter, Anna practically flung herself at me, furious. It took me minutes to calm her down. When she finally agreed, she understood that I had done my best, under the circumstances, to keep her and Jared safe.

  “Fine,” she said, glaring at me. “But I still hate you.”

  “You can hate me all you want, but at least you’re alive.”

  Anna was elated to know that her Uncle Joe was feeling much better and asking for food. Of course she wanted to see him, too.

  I considered her request. “Carla’s downstairs making some steaks now. I suppose you can see him when we bring down their food. But Anna, I don’t want you to touch him.”

  “But if he’s getting better—”

  “Until I know for sure this isn’t contagious, you’re not coming into contact with him.”

  “But didn’t you come into contact with him?”

  I had, of course, and it was something I was doing my damndest to ignore. Especially considering that I was feeling worse and worse. />
  “Let’s not talk about that now, baby.”

  “Uh, sir?” Jared spoke up. “Is there any more steak left? We haven’t eaten yet.”

  “Of course,” I answered. Where was my head? “Do your parents know where you are?”

  He held up his phone. “They know I’m okay.”

  “Do they know you’re here?”

  He blushed a little. “No, sir. Not really. I told them I was with another friend.” He looked at Anna and blushed some more, then looked at me again. “It seemed too complicated to try to explain. I’m sorry I lied.”

  My thoughts were getting fuzzier and fuzzier. “Don’t you think you should go home? Won’t they want to see you?” My voice drifted. I had lost my train of thought. What the hell was wrong with me?

  “It’s okay,” said Jared. “They work a lot, you know, at the zoo. We hardly see each other anyway.”

  “Jared?”

  “Yes, sir?”

  “You don’t have to call me sir all the time. I appreciate your respect, though. Call me Jack.”

  “Thank you, um, Jack.”

  “Let’s go!” Anna was smiling now. “We’re hungry and I want to see Uncle Joe!”

  “All right, all right. But remember your promise. You can talk, but no touching—and don’t get too close, either. Can I trust you?”

  “Yes, Dad. Geeeez!”

  * * *

  The two infected men sat now, facing each other. They’d been given wet cloths to clean themselves up, toothbrushes and a comb. They’d washed their faces and felt fairly decent. Except for the hunger.

  “So, you told him about the heightened senses?” Mike asked. They were alone in the basement. Their voices echoed, and sometimes they heard critters rustling around in the shadows. Rats. Joe was mildly disturbed that his stomach actually growled when he thought of the rats. They could hear footsteps above, and the sound of someone cooking in the kitchen.

  “Yeah. It is kind of cool, don’t you think?”

  “Hell, yes. I feel better than I’ve ever felt. Like I could take on an army.”

  “Me, too.”