Population: Katie

by Connor, Penelope

  I’m not sure if he wants me to continue my lame explanation, or what I was saying to Cameron when I walked in, so I decide on the latter. “There are nine pairs here, all in decent shape.” I start handing them, one by one, to Cameron to try on.

  As it turns out, he can see reasonably well with two of the pairs, so he tries them both on several times before deciding to take them both; one to wear now, and one to pack away in his bag, in case he ever has this problem again. He thanks me, both of us all too aware of the three men still watching us.

  Derek motions to Cameron to go back upstairs, nods to the guards to secure the door, then gestures for me to follow him. He seems to be a man of few words when he wants, and I find something about that even more unnerving than if he were to just yell.

  Derek leads me through the door that connects the front area to the rest of the main floor. Upstairs, the offices are small and plentiful, with several large boardrooms that we use for training, eating, sleeping, and storing supplies. But downstairs, there are very few offices, and the ones that I see are overly large and elaborately decorated. The rest of the space is fairly open and very welcoming, the walls adorned with large posters promising a better, more convenient life through the company’s various offerings. I still have no idea what the company was trying to offer, but there’s no marketing department to take issue with.

  “I heard about the split,” I blurt out.

  Derek looks over at me, his expression still unreadable. We walk all the way to the back corner of the building, and stop in front of a door. There’s a bar across it, similar to the one that secures the front entrance, but the arms that hold it in place are still shiny and dust free. Since there’s plenty of dust to go around, and no reason to clean it up, especially in this unused corner of the building, the bar must be a recent addition.

  “Guards found the door in pretty rough shape during their patrols this morning,” Derek tells me, running a finger along the bar. “Two of the zombies had bashed the hell out of it, trying to get in.”

  “They were trying to break down the door?” I ask, eyeing the solid metal.

  “Not just trying,” Derek says. I follow his gaze over to a wall a few feet away. There’s another door lying against the wall there. It’s wooden, and badly beaten in, splinters of wood shooting out from the center. “We had to... we neutralized them, then replaced the door with one from a neighboring building, like they did with the front door when they first arrived here.”

  I crouch down in front of the door and examine the hole in the middle. Up close I can see that there are streaks of blood and tiny chunks of flesh wedged into it. I stand up and look over at Derek. “Why are you showing me this?”

  “I want you to understand what we face out there,” he says. “Yes, you’ve been out there. Yes, you’ve faced them on your own, and in numbers that none of us could survive. But you’ve been lucky. You’ve seen the fast ones, right? The ones that attack out of nowhere?” He pauses, still touching the new door. “They don’t just follow the others, it’s like a switch goes on in their head and they don’t see anything but whatever it is they want to attack.”

  My breath catches in my throat as images of the ones who attacked Dale and I break into my thoughts. The way they ran, the look in their eyes... it was too pointed, too purposeful, like a boxer focusing on his opponent in the ring. The whole rest of the world melts away, and all you see is... red. “Aggressors.”

  “Okay, Aggressors,” Derek says. “Well, we don’t see them often, at least, we never used to. There’ve been more and more of them coming around lately. Usually, they attack each other, which makes our job easier, but sometimes... sometimes they do things like this, instead.” Derek points to the now useless door. “I don’t know what sets them off, but once they get going, they’ll tear up anything that gets in their way, and that could include you.”

  “You’re saying that I shouldn’t have gone out there,” I surmise, nodding my head in agreement. “Not just because you’ve all told me not to, but because it could be more dangerous than I think it is.”

  “No,” Derek says, and now a smile is pulling at the corner of his mouth. “I just want you to understand what our team faces out there.”

  “I know, but - wait!” I backtrack over his statement mentally. “Our team?”

  “I was going to tell you after training tomorrow, but I figured Tim and Kimberly would get to you first. They want you to be on their side of the split, when the time comes.”

  I process this new information as quickly as I can, as the pair of us walk back toward the front entrance. Erin was right. Derek wants me to join the ground team. Tim and Kimberly want me to follow them, along with Kyle, Erin, and whoever else, to a new home base when the group splits.

  “I’ll do it.”

  “Good,” Derek says. “I’ll let the others know.”

  We walk through the front entrance and begin up the stairs. This is probably the most amiable moment I have ever shared with Derek, and despite my brain warning me to leave it be, I find myself asking, “Why are you training Kyle, if you know it means he’ll leave in the split?”

  Derek glances at me briefly, and then answers in his usual matter-of-fact voice. “We could be separated at any moment, on any mission, or even right here in the building, if things ever... went wrong. Training him myself is the best way I can take care of him. Even if it means him leaving.”

  “Oh.” It’s the logical answer, but it still doesn’t sit right. It sounds like the kind of thing a father would say, not a brother. Despite the fact that Derek’s only a few years older than me, he seems to treat everyone around him like a child. Most find it irritating, except for Kenny of course, his adoring class volunteer.

  Another question flits to mind, and I impulsively ask it as well. “When you did that demo... uh, on me, that day... how did Kenny know that she was safe? How did you know you wouldn’t scare her?”

  Derek lets out a half-hearted laugh. “You’re asking how I could lecture you on ethics, while pointing a loaded gun at a nine-year-old, without scaring the pants off her?”

  “Not the way I’d put it, but sure.”

  Derek grabs my hand, which makes me flinch in surprise. His hand is warm and rough, and he squeezes mine in a short, but distinct pattern, then releases it again. In total, he had hold of my hand for only a couple of seconds, no longer than he had held Kenny’s hand when he pulled her forward during the lesson in question.

  “You have a code,” I say with a laugh. “That’s how she knew.”

  “Yup,” Derek replies.

  “What does it mean?” I ask, completely forgetting that I’ve more than used up my question quota with Derek. He surprises me by offering up the most personal answer yet.

  “When he was little, I used to use it on Kyle. Started doing it when I walked him to his first day of preschool. He was so damned nervous, I was holding his hand, and he started squeezing mine. So I squeezed it back, and it made him feel better. I did it for years, until he was too old to want to hold hands with his big brother.”

  I look over to see Derek smiling fondly.

  “It means,” he tells me, as we step into the common room, “trust me.”

  Chapter 13 – The Hospital Run

  On my very first mission, I accompany Derek, Kyle and another woman, to an abandoned building three streets away, in search of food. I find that I trust Derek implicitly. It’s not a hard thing to do, because everyone else feels the same way. There’s a deep-rooted trust within the group that makes our missions so effective. I can see why having a small group, where everyone knows everyone else, is beneficial and why they’ve chosen to keep it this way.

  Many of our missions are like this - short, simple runs, in search of food or supplies. Some days all we find is a vending machine in a staff room that hasn’t been broken into. On days like that, when supplies are low, and nutritional value questionable, we sometimes substitute in one of Kenny’s rabbits. Or something that Cameron
, his sight returned to him, has captured or shot during the day.

  No one even considers consuming any of the food we find before packing it up to take back to the base. We know exactly whose bellies we’re depriving if we return home empty-handed.

  Other days we do better. I can get into a lot of tight spots that no one else can, unlocking doors, or simply carrying otherwise inaccessible supplies out of a building full of Passives. It feels good to know that I’m a part of something important, and even better to know that I contribute in ways that the others can’t.

  One night, Erin’s group returns from a trade run with the other resistance group with news that they need medication.

  A team forms up, and first thing the next morning, we head out into a part of town that I haven’t yet explored.

  It’s funny. When I used to live in Middleton, this was a part of town that I was very familiar with, but now, it’s hardly recognizable. It seems that the closer we get to the heart of the city, the more destruction we find.

  We make it to their base, which is on the sixth floor of an apartment building, without incident. Derek’s carrying a messenger bag with all of the medication that we had on hand – which isn’t much – and offers it to Deirdre, their leader, as soon as we’re safely inside.

  Deirdre is a very tall woman with very short hair. She’s dressed head to toe in leather and I notice many cuts and scrapes on her face and arms where her sleeves have been pushed back. She looks tired, possibly more so than anyone I’ve ever seen.

  On the way over, Kyle tells me what Erin told him about the group. In the last week, they took in three new children and lost two of their hunters, resulting in a challenging lack of balance between people who could provide, and people who needed to be provided for. Deirdre, as leader, was out every day, pushing the boundaries of where they could look for supplies, and it was clearly taking its toll.

  We all follow her into the medical room, which is staffed by two people, and filled with assorted beds that I assume were dragged in from the surrounding apartments to accommodate the sick or injured.

  At the moment, there are four beds occupied, but it’s easy to see whom we’re here for. A woman lies sleeping in a bed near the only window, a small boy at her side. She’s pale and sweaty, and even in her sleep, she looks like she’s in pain. Her mouth keeps twitching, and her hands clench and unclench around the sheets.

  “What happened to her?” Derek asks. I wonder if this is someone that he knew before the group split the last time.

  Deirdre approaches the young boy sitting on the bed. “Hey, Sweetie, why don’t you go and see what Lily and Georgia are up to? I heard they invented a new board game.”

  The boy nods his head, scoops up several toys from the edge of the bed, and makes his way from the room in silence.

  Once he’s gone, Deirdre responds to Derek’s question. “She was pregnant. She met an OB/GYN doctor a few months back; that was his son, and they’ve all been travelling together ever since. The three of them joined us a month ago.” She pauses. “There were complications, and we just didn’t have what he needed.”

  “The baby?” Kyle asks.

  Deirdre shakes her head, then continues. “She’s lost a lot of blood, and the doc thinks she has an infection.”

  Deirdre waves over one of the attending women, and hands her the bag that we’ve brought. The woman empties it out onto an unoccupied bed, and digs through the small pile carefully. There are only a few bottles of medication, and they’re mostly empty already.

  The girl picks up one bottle, shaking it around thoughtfully. “We can try this, but there’s isn’t much left.” She gathers up what she thinks they can use from the rest of the supplies, then replaces everything else into the bag and hands it to Derek.

  “What I wouldn’t give for antibiotics,” Deirdre mumbles.

  “Why don’t we get supplies from the hospital?” I suggest casually, “It’s really not that far from here.”

  Deirdre’s eyes bulge, and the attending woman actually turns around to see if I’m being serious. Apparently, this is not the most practical suggestion.

  “What?” I ask, turning to Derek for an answer. “Is it all raided out?”

  “You’re such a tourist,” he says, shaking his head. Derek goes on to explain that the two hospitals in Middleton were where all of the infected people were sent to at first, before people understood what they were up against. There came a point when the Gov stepped in and quarantined the hospitals, sealing them off entirely, leaving the infected people trapped inside.

  “But if it was quarantined near the beginning,” I argue, “then it stands to reason that it’s fully stocked. There could be antibiotics there, or even food. Lots of stuff we could use.”

  “It’s not that simple,” Derek says. “Lots of people have tried, but it can’t be done. No one has enough bullets to clear it out.”

  I give Derek a pointed look. “Can I do it?”

  “I can’t let you -”

  “No,” I say, cutting him off. “I’m not asking your permission. I’m asking, can I get in? Can I get out? Is it possible?”

  Derek looks from our group, to Deirdre, the nurse, the injured woman, and then back round to me. “I don’t know.”

  I nod my head. “Then I think we have to at least try.”

  The hospital run is the most elaborate mission that we’ve ever organized.

  First, we all have to get to the hospital, which takes longer than expected because that part of town is dense with Passives. Once we arrive, we need to find a way onto the roof, which Derek and Deirdre assess as the best way to get in without risking any of the Passives getting out, and the only safe place that they can wait for me while I’m inside.

  Derek rigs a rudimentary rope and pulley system that will both lower me down through the skylight into the hospital, as well as serve as a means to extract the supplies I find.

  Deirdre holds out the pair of medium-sized duffle bags that she brought to carry supplies, which I sling over one shoulder before accepting the rope from Derek. I step into the large loop and pull it up over my legs so that it rests just below my hips. Derek helps me climb through the skylight so that I am hanging onto the ledge, legs dangling in the air. He pulls the rope tight, then instructs me to let go so that he can lower me the rest of the way.

  I let go of the ledge with one hand, wrapping it around the rope in front of me, and then repeat with the other hand. The rope swings back and forth lightly, but remains steady as Derek slowly lowers me into the hospital.

  Once inside, I know why this place has never been raided. The hospital is rank with the stench of death, decay, and expired bodily fluids. The number of bodies is second only to the number of Passives inside. Many are injured or still locked alone in patient rooms while others are strapped to beds, twitching and looking around uselessly.

  I try to calm and steady myself without the benefit of a deep breath, and set out to find the items on my list. The halls are packed with Passives and it’s difficult for me to make any forward progress as they all walk in various directions, squishing me between them as they go. This would be so much easier if I weren’t so much smaller than most of them. I begin a tactic of squeezing my way between, the way I used to in high school when I was late for class, fighting to break through a crowd of students heading in the opposite direction.

  This gets me moving at a decent pace. That is, until I slip on something squishy, taking down the closest Passive with me as I slide to the ground. I look down to see that I’ve slipped on a pile of intestines, blackened and flattened by the many feet stomping them all day long.

  I let out a sound of disgust and use the fallen Passive to push myself back to my feet before I get trampled too.

  Before long, frustration takes over and I resort to pushing everyone out of my way, feeling more and more claustrophobic as I go.

  By the time I reach the first junction in the hall, I decide that it’s probably time to consult my map.
The attending woman in the med room of Deirdre’s home base is a nurse, and used to work in this hospital. Before we set out, she drew me a map of where I am most likely to find what I need, and the best routes to get there. I spot a counter to my right and begin rudely shoving my way toward it. The first woman that I need to move past shuffles forward and out of my way before I make contact with her, causing me to stumble forward into a large man. I grab at his shirt for balance, my hand landing in something wet and squishy.

  It takes only a fraction of a second for me to regain my footing and realize that I’ve stuck my hand into the gaping wound in the center of the man’s chest. I scream and pull my hand back, then proceed to wipe it repeatedly against a passing doctor’s jacket, all the while making little gagging noises and trying desperately not to think too hard about what just happened.

  I climb up onto a counter and pull out the map. My hand does not leave marks on the paper, but is still visibly red. I make a note to look for some kind of sanitizer before I collect anything to bring back for the others. I wish I had my backpack. There are at least two little bottles of sanitizer in there.

  I hear a tapping sound from above and look up to see that Derek and Deirdre are looking down through the skylight directly above me. They must have been following me on the roof, and are wondering why I’ve stopped. I realize how awful this must look, me sitting cross-legged on my little island while the Passives mull all around. I wonder if they saw my poor hand violate that man.

  Derek mimes pulling on a rope. He’s asking if I want out.

  I point to the map, and then give them the thumbs up sign. They seem to understand, nodding their heads and giving me the thumbs up back.

  Choosing my path, I jump back into the crowd, swerving, shoving, and tripping my way along until I finally reach my first destination.

  I enter the pharmacy and am relieved to see that, while not well stocked, it’s in excellent condition. No spilled bottles or turned over shelves, or any of the other telltale signs of desperate thievery, which means that all I need to do is find where the pills I need should be, instead of aimlessly digging through piles on the floor as I’ve done in pharmacies and drug stores on other missions.